It's been nearly seven months since you left, and I can still remember that night so clear. It was a few days after New Years. Two days to be exact. You got into your car and as you drove away you promised me that it would be okay. But I'm still waiting for the "okay" bit to come along.
I decided to go out on Friday night for the first time since you left. Decided I was going to enjoy myself. Go into the club and see how my luck would go. Had a few drinks and went in dancing. Scanned the crowd for potential lovers, and what I didn't expect to see was ex lovers. I saw you. Saw you dancing with her, looking at her with complete love in your eyes. It was the same look you once had for me.
I escaped to the outside, lit up and smoke. Little bit of Dutch courage. I ended up going back in, ignoring you and danced some more. But you came up and talked to me. It was awkward to start with and it remained awkward. It was never like this before. We chatted, I remained closed up. I allowed you in once in my life and I won't allow you back in any time soon.
After our little chat I ended up drinking to forget. To forget you, what we had, and the pain I felt and still feel because of you. And when I couldn't drink anymore, memories came flooding back. And I remembered how it all started. I remembered that Friday we met. And how it all started.
******
I spent a frustrating weekend with a light switch that only worked after a series of obscenities. Deciding that it was not the way I wanted to continue, I called in the sparky. As a writer I do most of my work late at night; and even though a computer screen provides a good light, it also provides a good headache. I do consider myself as a Jack-of-all-trades, but definitely a master at none of them. And when it came to electricity, I'd be the joker. Knowing myself, I'll probably end up electrocuting myself or wiring it up completely wrong. I'm terrible, I admit it.
I walked to my study and started to make sense out of the chaotic scene. Rearranging papers and stacking away some of the books I had used for research. A few minutes passed and what seemed like a room hit by a hurricane, it actually resembled what a study should look like. Neat and organized.
"Amazing" I thought to myself, knowing that as soon as I get started, that hurricane effect will take place again. I'm a firm believer of organized chaos and with that I decided it was time for a coffee. I pad to the kitchen, switched on the jug and as I waited for it to boil, I reach for the milk in the fridge. The door of my fridge covered in a myriad of sticky notes, full of scribbled ideas for my next chapter or sometimes, sentences.
After pouring my milk, another idea bombards my head and I add another scribbled sticky note to the million others. I sipped slowly on my coffee, but my mind still sped along at a hundred miles, seeking new ideas. Suddenly, the shrill sound of the doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I put my coffee down and walked to the front door.
"Hiya" I said as I opened the door.
"Hiya" she said, "I'm the sparky for that light switch."
I must've had my mouth open in surprise for she gave me a rather peculiar look. It wasn't because the sparky is a female. Being a female myself, I think "you go girl." But it was more surprise, well to be really honest; I was knocked back by her beauty. Her red hair tied up in a pony tail, her green eyes sparkling as she smiled. Recovering my wits, I smiled back and thought of a plausible excuse.
"Sorry," I said laughing (and probably blushed), "I just got an idea that I gotta write down. It's for my book. I'm a writer." I babbled.
Shut up! I thought to myself. Now you're blabbering like a complete fool.
"Come in. I just made some coffee, would you like a cup?" I kept on blabbering while walking to the kitchen.
"If it's not too much trouble, I'd love one."
"It would be an absolute pleasure."
Easy now tiger, she might not even be gay I remind myself. And you putting on the charm might not be such a good idea. She could wire it up so that you get a nasty shock. Hmm, she could do my wiring any day. Whoa! Focus on the coffee now!
She sat down at the kitchen table and I handed her a cup. She sipped slowly and I couldn't help but focus on her lips. Imagining what they would feel like, taste like. She probably caught me looking (and drooling most likely) because she laughed and put the cup down.
"You seemed surprised earlier. Expected a male aye?"
I blushed and stumbled out some excuse.
"Well, yes. It's just, I know there are female electricians out there, but didn't think they'd be this gorgeous." I said without thinking.
She blinked twice and reached for her cup, smiling. Then I realized what I had said and blushed deeply.
"Oh god, I'm sorry. Um, I meant that I always had this idea that the female electricians would be the typical butch lesbian types or something. And I'm sure you've gathered that I'm gay. So um, yeah" I stopped and gulped down some coffee. Wincing because it's still hot.
She laughed heartedly. She took the last sip of her coffee and put the cup down. She smiled at me, but I swear this time there was a difference in the smile. But I couldn't put my finger on it.
"Well," she said, still smiling, "my clients aren't usually this good looking either."
I choked and sputtered on my last swallow of coffee. She laughed and stood up.
"Let's get started on that switch." She said as she gathered her toolbox.
I stood up, still recovering from the choke, and led her to the study. She cracked up as she saw the pen marks all around the switch.
"Ah, the writer's weapon of choice, a pen." She chuckled.
"I'm that obvious aye. Yeah, that's the offending switch. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." I said as I backed out of the room.
"Not a worry. I should be done in few minutes."
I walked down to the kitchen, marveling at what had just happened since I opened that door. A certain form of energy had filled the air. As if there is some kind of attraction, some kind of unspoken notion between us. Maybe you're just imagining it, I berate myself.
I sat down at the kitchen table, grabbed a pen and a notepad and let my mind take over my hand as I scribbled down potential paragraphs. After I turn the second page, I looked up and saw her standing in the door. I blushed and felt exposed. I feel at my most vulnerable when I write, my face becomes a window in which my emotions become exposed.
"Sorry, just scribbling away. As writers do, you know."
"It's all good." She answered softly while walking towards the table, "um, it was a loose wire. I reattached it and it shouldn't cause you anymore grief."
"Thank you so much. Now I can write without running out of pens to chuck at it. How much do I owe you for that?"
"How about," she started softly, "I wave the fare and you cook me dinner?"
I swallowed, not believing what I just heard.
"Are you proposing a date?"
"I suppose I am, yes." She answered in a husky tone.
A grin broke out on my face, "Sounds like a deal. When would you like this dinner?"
"I finish at 5 today, how about 6?"
"It sounds perfect" I answered, still grinning.
We stood there for a while, just looking at each other. As if caught in a spell. Then for the first time, she blushed.
