About last night

Note: Bloody in many parts - Part 6

The traffic was extremely bad that one particular morning. I had to wake up early for the eight o'clock meeting and had to leave the house long before the people around my neck of the woods were up on their toes. I was caught up in this unimaginable two-hour traffic jam that caused the road temperature and everyone's temper to rise. That defined how my day went and closed in a rather peculiar way.

The last meeting I had in this classy restaurant ended at seven. By the time I reached the mall terminal, it was already eight. I was tired, sleepy and hungry. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught that tall familiar figure looking my way with his arms folded in front of him. He was lovely sight to look at that made all my worries disappear in thin air. I turned to smile quite sheepishly and walked consciously towards his direction.

Bloody was in a happy and relaxed mood. He was enjoying his free time watching people go about their quiet lives and was probably thinking of plans on how to screw up mine. At the far end of the corner, his co-drivers gossiped like women. For Bloody, it was an opportunity to take off his mask and talk like a free man without The Wife’s spy satellites on him. He asked how things were with me for the past few days we had not seen each other. I summarized my misery in a short sentence that had the word "busy" in it.

“Your life is like your cell phone. Always busy.” He was sitting on this concrete bench wearing his usual white shirt and faded jeans that fitted him so well. I thought he was handsome without that brown cap he uses to hide his eyes.

“Welcome to the 21st century.” I tried to sound as casual as I could to conceal my excitement and prevent the nerves on my head from popping. “You’re the only Filipino I know who doesn’t own a cell phone. Even babies have one.”

He chuckled. Bloody owned commuter vans but not even the world’s lousiest cell phone. Last Christmas, I overheard him telling this other front seat girl about his sad story on how The Wife took away his unit. In my mind, that time, I labeled him "jerk". Really.

“Wait for me. Don’t go anywhere.” Bloody went to the nearest phone booth to place a call that took ten minutes. Hiding behind a book, I watched him intently like a serial killer studying his prey. I took note of those impatient little gestures. I had imagined what the conversation was about whenever he would run his fingers through his dark brown hair or rummage his pocket for coins to feed the hungry telephone unit. After what seemed to be a thousand years, he emerged out of the hell hole with a relief on his face. With just a nod, I followed him to his van and decided to book the entire front seat. I had a plan brewing for that night. I wanted to get to know who this creep really was and learn more about his worth without a nosy third wheel clogging our conversation. He seemed glad.

During the short trip, I asked him about his past, his family, his work abroad and his life today. He gave me honest answers. Bloody did not offer too many details unless asked specifically. Time flew without me noticing that we already reached my destination. I felt my heart sank.

I was going for the door when he asked, “Would you like to join me in a joyride?”

What joyride? Was this Roxette's "Joyride"?

My mind suddenly went blank as I groped for a more appropriate answer. Was it a date? Was it even good or bad?

Then curiosity kicked in and took over my rational thinking. Why not? We're no longer kids but two middle-aged adults. We both knew our boundaries. I was confident enough to think that we would emerge out of the whole sticky situation with our clothes still on. I just wanted to seize the day, live for the moment and worry about the future later.

So I said yes.

Now I knew what killed the cat.