MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “flirt”

The impulse of an act

wooden bridge nightWhat happened last night?” Vivienne rubbed her eyes as she awakened in a jail cell. Her best friend was sitting right next to her. She had clearly been awake much longer; perhaps she had not even slept at all.

You don’t remember?” Charlotte stared at her wide-eyed. She seemed furious. A bit puzzled too. And quite stressed.

Don’t you remember anything about last night? Nothing? At all?” the panic in her voice was now evident.

Vivienne was still trying to wake up. The litres of alcohol she had consumed the night before were now catching up with her, causing an invisible hammer to pound on her head. She held her head up and calmly responded, “not a thing”. “What did we do?” her curiosity was pure and naïve. It was as if she was asking why the neighbor was piling boxes in his yard. As this did not affect her. As though she did not just spend the night in prison.

Charlotte was furious. And the more angry she got, the more Vivienne wanted to know what exactly happened the night before. She felt as if she was watching her favourite TV series and it had been cut-off at a cliffhanger scene.

The last thing I remember is drinking shots at that bar by the river. Everything is a blank after that. What happened? Did we do something bad?

No honey, we were brought to prison for our own safety”. Charlotte was a master in sarcasm. And she performed best at moments when her rage overwhelmed her.

Sweetie, you got hammered last night. You literally drank a bottle of wine on your own at Spencer’s house, then when we went for Mexican you had half a pitcher of Margaritas, and it was you who insisted we go for more drinks after that. We conceded mainly because you were so upset after seeing Weston again after so long. So we went to that bar by the river that you remember. And we said we’d have one drink. But the waiter took a liking on us – probably you, that is – you were so… friendly and cheerful with everyone; it was bound to get misunderstood.

It’s not my fault I get overly excited when I drink!

Charlotte raised her eyebrows at her. “So, what happened?” Vivienne felt she was listening to a story, not a recount of what she had done the previous night.

We had three rounds of shots and you had another couple of glasses of vodka. You started to get dizzy so the guys suggested we leave and get you out to the fresh air. That is when we went to the bridge and you saw the wooden boat right under it…

Oh no…” Vivienne knew where this was going. She knew herself too well. And her drunk self was even worse. Or rather, more unpredictable and impulsive than her normal self could ever be.

What did I make you guys do?” she questioned in full embarrassment.

You ran down and literally stole the boat for a moonlight stroll. We had to get in too, to control you. But you started feeling woozy and rocked the boat, overturning us all in the freezing river. It was your screaming that brought the police.

And they arrested us for that?” Apparently, it was not a good enough reason.

Oh no, sweetie. They arrested us because you threw up on one of the police officers and then slapped the face off the other one because you hallucinated into thinking it was Weston. That’s what we got arrested for.

But why are you here then?

Because I’m so stupid to care so much for you, I didn’t want to leave you alone in this state of yours. Who knows who else you would molest.

So, I wasn’t left alone at all after that?

Well, just for a couple of minutes when I went to call Justin. He’s bound to come bail us out any minute now. We’ve already been here for six hours.”

OK. So in those few minutes, I didn’t…you know… do anything else, did I?” Vivienne was genuinely frightened. It is scary not remembering part of your life and the actions you may have taken during that time. Especially if they will affect your present or future.

I sure hope not.” Charlotte knew her friend too well, but loved her the same nonetheless.

Their discussion was interrupted by a prison guard coming to let them out.

Is Justin here?” asked Charlotte.

No,” the guard replied. “I made some calls.

Why?” asked Vivienne surprised.

You said you’d only go out with me if you weren’t in here, didn’t you? And I do think we would match. Don’t let my job fool you, I told you I am a trained lawyer. I just can’t get a decent job just yet”.

Vivienne gulped. Her face was heating up and her stomach was churning the previous night’s alcohol.

Charlotte laughed. At least the lawyer-turned-prison-guard was cute. He was young, tall, handsome and athletic. He couldn’t be that bad.

A few days later Vivienne did go on that date with the prison guard, whose name was Leo, by the way. She was blown away at how different he was outside the prison. And so was he. She was careful not to drink too much this time. But she was equally cheerful. It was the excitement of realising that sometimes it is on an impulse that your true desires are revealed and you are pushed into taking the actions that otherwise you would talk yourself out of.

The writing on the wall

WaitingCaterina looked at the clock on the wall. She was sitting in the waiting room for forty minutes already. But this was normal given the occasion. It was a very popular office and urgent things kept popping up. After all, it wasn’t easy to see a Minister.

The waiting room was reminiscent in name to lobbies of medical practitioners. But the atmosphere was very different. The couches were brown leather, but of the “professional” sort, that don’t make noises when you slide across them, and don’t sink as you fall into them. The walls were painted a soft yellow colour that reminded dreamers of the pale colour of sunrise in autumn. And right across the main couch was a framed canvas that read “Good things come to those who wait”. It was a fitting advice, but was it true?

Caterina worked as a press officer for a non-governmental organization that closely cooperated with the Minister. She had booked the meeting a couple of weeks in advance and had everything prepared for today. But now, all she could do was wait. And as she waited, her mind drifted. She stared at the writing on the canvas, noticed how the light colours and the curves made the whole painting seem so much more optimistic, and how it actually managed to transmit that positive perspective to the viewer. But Caterina could not shake off that feeling she had lately – that she was alone. No matter the many people who encircled her during the day, she would always return to a home where she would be alone. She missed having someone to share her life with, and her mind (and dreams) were constantly fixed on this thought, or rather, grievance.

That was until today. Because today, sitting right under that prophetic painting was Johnnie. Johnnie was a government aide. He was perfect for the job because he was a “people’s person”. He was extrovert and always knew what to say; he could start a conversation out of nowhere, and had a way of making everyone crack a smile. And, according to Caterina, he himself possessed the most engaging smile she had seen in a while. When her eyes fell on him, he smiled widely and winked. Caterina blushed, smiled, and turned her eyes to the floor. Every woman loves being flirted with, but it is the ones who dare to make a further move that usually win their hearts.

Johnnie was one of those guys.

He got up and transferred himself to Caterina’s couch. “In the next minute, I will have been here for an hour. And you?” he inquired. “Fifty minutes,” she responded a bit embarrassed.

Seems I’m winning this one,” he joked. She laughed. And he smiled so that his eyes gleamed. Men love to make women laugh, especially if it reveals a spark in her eyes.

Caterina was one of those girls.

That was the day they both realized that sometimes, the good things come when you least expect them, as long as you are open to seeing them and seize the opportunity that arises. In the end, it doesn’t really matter how long you wait, if what you find truly compensates the waiting time.

Also part of Daily Prompt: Waiting Room

To love or pretend to live

Foot popping kissYou watch a movie and almost always it has a happy ending. Especially if it is a romantic comedy (rom-com), or like my brother likes to say, a “chick-flick”. But it does leave you with a fluffy feeling inside. One that brings a smile to your face, for no real reason. However, it makes you think: does this really happen?

How likely is it to find your soul-mate, the person you will spend the rest of your life with, in such a short time and live happily ever after with him/her? How feasible is something like that?

But who doesn’t want to fall in love? To feel the butterflies flutter inside your stomach at just the thought of this one person. To blush simply by their kiss, or their mention of your name in public?

Marcy always dreamed she would fall in love with an amazing guy. One who would sweep her off her feet, and make her foot pop up when he kissed her. She spent hours watching rom-coms, hoping that one day this would happen to her. With all the adventures, humor and romance they all encompassed. And she spent most of her life hoping. Because although she did date, they all, at one time or other, turned out to be jerks, who simply wanted to pass their time, who did not treat her right, or who just left.

But Marcy never lost hope. After all, she had her rom-coms for comfort.

One day, or night rather, she had gone out with her best friend. They decided to visit a new bar in town and have a drink to vent out their problems and concerns with each other. Marcy insisted she would buy the first round. As she turned around from the bar, two drinks in hand, she literally fell onto a person whose eyes seemed to light up the entire room. “I’m so sorry she said,” looking to see if she had spilled anything on what appeared to be an expensive shirt and designer jeans. “Not a problem at all,” he replied as they locked eyes and Marcy remained speechless. “I’m Shane,” he said, extending a hand. Marcy smiled nervously and lifted up the glasses she was holding in each hand. They both laughed. She already knew him. No, really. Shane was an actor. And a renowned one for that matter. He was a bit of a heartthrob and Marcy could now see exactly why. It was not just his looks. He had a certain charm about him. Something mesmerizing. “I have to go,” she said, “my friend is waiting”. He nodded, and as she moved, she heard him calling out “I’ll buy the next round”. She smiled and reached her friend clearly flustered. She recounted the whole story with her friend trying to control her excitement. By the time Marcy finished telling her tale, Shane and a friend of his were already asking if they could join the two girls. To the latter, it was an offer they simply could not refuse.

It did not take long for Shane to win over Marcy, head over heels. She was in love with him and the very idea of being in love. He courted and sought her and that made her feel special. He sent flowers for no apparent reason, showed up in surprise visits and prepared romantic outings. Everything a girl would want, according to Marcy.

But despite the dream she was living, Marcy could not shake off one thing that was spinning in the corner of her mind – he was an actor, how could she be sure he was not acting with her? She always fantasized herself dating one of those handsome young men who held the lead roles in the rom-coms she so loved. But she never actually considered the practicalities of dating one. Because now, how could she really know when he actually stopped acting and was speaking the truth?

One day she told him about her preoccupation. He smiled and told her that the only thing that could reassure her was what she truly felt by what he said and did, and the way he treated her. “The answer is found here,” he said pointing to her heart, “not here” in her head. Marcy immersed herself in Shane’s arms where she felt safe.

But even after years passed and they were still together, she could never shake off that feeling. How can you truly trust a person who pretends for a living? In the end, she thought, she too had learnt to pretend, because it was the only way to survive in a world where nothing appears to be ideal, or even remotely close to that.

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