Summers. I hate everything about them. The temperature rises up to their thirties or forties, just ten degrees less than half a boiling point of water. I wonder what is our boiling point? I believe it is same as the water because we are 70 percent of it. But I don't think we will melt away. I think...we would sweat and sweat and sweat and then finally burst, with no warning whatsoever. And we won't splatter blood. It would all be mucus like plasma thickened from all that evaporation. Ok! I agree. I am exaggerating but don't you speak your brain out about something you hate and only love the things you love in silence?
I was sitting in an air-conditioned cafe, reading and thinking ill of summer, when I heard someone approach. I ignored them. My innate response to anyone crowding me in the heat. When they didn't budge. I tore my eyes from the book and had a good look at them, already cursing them for their audacity. Suddenly, a spark went inside my head; neurons worked hard and handed me a name. I smiled at her familiar face and willingly asked her to take the seat opposite mine.
One thing about me is that I remember and recognize every single one of my lovers and sex partners. She wasn't one of my sex partners. She was my lover. Was. An ex. An ex I never had sex with.
She was as dainty as ever, with a with a small stature, a curvy body, long hair to her waist and high-power spectacles aiding her eyes. An iced-americano was her choice of beverage. She fiddled with her handbag, seeming to never be at ease. I am one of those women, who intimidates everyone. So, I felt pity for her when we ran into each other like this. She looked at me, asking genetic questions and answering generic answers.
We had this thing where we could bask in each other's silence for extended periods of time without feeling the need to say anything. That's what we were doing and what we used to do. Silence with or around a possible mate could either lead to a primal itch to touch them or just a feeling of despair.
We were in a relationship for around a year or so before separating on a violent term, in which I decided to randomly stop talking to her after I was done basking in her innocence. She was a virgin when we first met and she remained a virgin when we broke up.
"Are you dating anyone?" I realized she was talking to me.
"Nope, summer is already bothering me enough. I don't need a human right now,"
She nodded, sipping her coffee. The ice clanked against the glass, giving me a sense of cool spring. It was always a delight, how she would understand my poetic gibberish and give me credit for it. Involuntarily, I chuckled.
"What were you doing around here?" I asked.
"Um...nothing much. Just roaming around."
Oh boy! Roaming around!? In this heat? What was she? An ant?
"Sweet!" I replied sarcastically.
She took another sip, once again letting those ice cubes ring against the glass.
"Actually, I was looking for you." she said. I realized she had to muster up a lot of courage to say that.
"What for?" I wasn't surprised. I was frustrated. I don't like when people dig me up.
"I got my dream job,"
I waited.
"I promised, I would notify you when I'll get my dream job,"
I had no idea what she was talking about but that gesture brought out the generic soft spot I had for her and suddenly she appeared vulnerable. It was delightful to me.
"Well, congratulations. I am really proud of you," I tried to sound as genuine as possible but the summer. Ugh. My brain wasn't braining. And my throat felt slimy.
She smiled. Her sulk left the body.
"Thank you so much."
Really? Nice.
"So, you'll be in town or shifting somewhere else?" I asked, trying to be nice.
"I would love to travel," she said, nodding her head.
"Good. Very well. I am happy for you," I said, hinting that I wanted this conversation to end.
I gathered my book and started to stand up when she stood up as well. I looked at her expectantly. She creased her brows and took a deep sigh.
"Can I come with you?"
Ok! Where did that come from?
"I am going home," I said, thinking she might want to avoid that.
"Yes, I will go home with you."
Hold on! I am hallucinating. The summer's feverish temperature was playing wrong with me. I was sweating in that air-conditioned cafe and felt as if I were entering into a trance.
I took her home with me. She wasn't a mirage after all. I offered her some cold water and made my way into my bedroom to shed my outdoor clothes. I came back to see her in the same position, with the glass of water sitting before her.
"I think I should go," she said, getting up.
So she left.
~
Two days later, on another summer afternoon when the cicadas were being unusually chaotic and the air was thick, she paid me a visit. I could not understand her reasons but somehow I felt I should be there. I am not an easy person to talk to but I can be reliable at times, if I want to. But mostly because I felt bad for her. Even when we were dating, she was surrounded by friends yet somehow managed to appear lonely. And she looked no less lonely sitting on the couch in my apartment.
And after talking to me over a cup of cold coffee, she left.
~
After our two meet-ups, it was I who suggested she come and stay with me. An impulsive suggestion I knew I would regret.
So she paid me another visit, this time with a duffle bag.
She insisted that she would cook for us and so she did. We ate with her, asking me if I was feeling comfortable in her presence, if the food was good, if I was actually sure about her being with me, if this--if that--and so on. Innocence, similar to a child's, is endearing as long as you choose to endure it. And my threshold for tolerating things isn't very high.
"So, can we watch a movie?" she asked.
"Sure,"
I cleaned up the couch and added a couple more pillows as she managed to choose a movie for us to watch. She chose science fiction, a genre that was far away from me. The outer world had always been her thing, not mine. I never thought about anything beyond the moon. We both got settled in on the couch and watched the movie in silence. She would occasionally sit with her knees propped under her chin and then change to sit cross-legged with her back straight. I found watching her more amusing than the movie.
"Would you like something to drink?" I asked.
The movie was boring and I wanted some time away from her.
"Sure," she said and I swiftly got out of the living room and entered the kitchen.
I opened the refrigerator and stood before it for a while. I stooped lower, letting my head hang and stretching my neck. Oh! My head felt heavy but the cool air from the refrigerator calmed me.
"You could have told me you didn't like the movie." Her voice rang out from behind me.
I never like agreeing to anybody, to the point where I feel threatened when somebody gets me. Naturally, I denied it.
"No no. I was just feeling hot. You know. Right? Summer and I don't get along," I smiled, pulling two cans of beer from the open refrigerator.
She nodded.
