Walking In Rain

this blanket i am wrapped in has a familiar scent. for a moment, i try to remember where i’ve encountered this smell, but realize that i cant. next to me are two mugs of water that have been chilled by the air conditioning - exactly the way i like it. our leftover lunch sits quietly on the floor. i swear to God it is brimming with tension - the edges of the plate are swirling like the heat on afternoon roads and the curve of the spoons seem almost accusatory. i stare hard at the smatterings of red sauce on the sides of the plate.

“i like you a lot,” he blurts out suddenly.

“why?” i ask sharply.

he looks very taken aback. “what do you mean, why?”

“why do you like me?”

slowly and carefully, he says, “when you like someone, there doesnt have to be a reason. if you can put your feelings into words, the truth of it is gone.”

i want to smack my forehead. if this was a scene in a movie, and i was an audience member, i would turn to the person on my right and say, “damn cliche, man. like no other line to use liddat!”. i remember when i was 15 and this explanation was so impressive to me. but now, i’ve heard this cop-out answer so many times i’m beginning to wonder if it’s from some famous movie i never watched or some famous book i never read.

“haha no. i refuse to accept that answer. if you like me, there has to be a reason. you cant like a person for no reason.”

there is a halt in time. he’s blushing so much that i feel a little bit regretful over my reaction. i’m about to open my mouth to say something, anything, when he says -

“because i can’t stop looking at you. everytime i look at you i feel so happy… everytime i look at you i feel like i want to make you happy. and your smile. it’s just so beautiful. and.. and when i send you an sms and you dont reply, i stare at my phone all day just waiting. and it’s how i love to listen to you talk, even when it’s not me you’re talking to. yeah. it’s things like that.”

he’s not looking at me anymore. i cant look at him either. i stare at the red sauce on the plate again.

shit. i dont think anyone has ever answered this question before when i ask. and now that someone has, i dont quite know what to say. quickly i run through all the options in my head. do i say, ‘really?’ or do i say, ‘dont bluff lah’. or do i wrap him up in a big hug? do i kiss him? do i say ‘you dont know what you’re talking about’? finally, i pick silence, cos i’m too chickenshit to do anything else.

and why does it have to be you, i wonder. why cant it be him? why cant it be him who gave me this answer?

“you’re the first girl to ever use this blanket,” he says softly while reaching out to touch the hem of the cloth. hurriedly i throw it back at him, apologising profusely. his eyes widen and he quickly bundles me back up in his blanket. “no no no, i want you to use it. please dont say sorry,” he says in alarm.

i fall into silence again.

he starts. “look. i want to be your -”

there is a loud rap on the door. his housemate wants something. i absolutely cannot believe the timeliness of the interruption. he heaves a sigh of frustration as he goes to open the door. i bury my face in my palms to stifle a groan. i just want this time to breathe, i dont even wanna think about what i have to say when he returns to complete his sentence.

fucking chocolate chip cookies.

30 comments September 16th, 2006