Bloody on the mirror

Note: Bloody in many parts - Part 4

I was on my way home from church when I saw a familiar sight I missed for the past two weeks – a faded Superman sticker at the back of a blue-violet commuter van. My heart screamed “Bloody!”

With quick but graceful strides I reached the terminal. I scanned the entire place for that tall, dark and handsome figure in white shirt and faded jeans but he was nowhere to be found. A couple was already occupying my front seat. That left me with the next vacant space at the back of the driver’s seat.

Hmm. Not bad.

The van was dark inside and the tinted windows made sightseeing at night more difficult but my accidental guy-watching possible. While I was contemplating ways to calm my hyperventilating self, he came back to check on his passengers. I immediately ducked my head and picked up the book I deliberately dropped on the floor. That was the thirty-something me who simply couldn’t make up her mind. Should I say "hi", smile or put my head inside my bag? I was like a thirteen-year-old who couldn't figure out what to do with an overripe pimple.

He started the engine and the van took off with an amazing bullet train speed. That was what I liked about his driving – reckless, just like him. He drove quietly and was lost in his own train of thoughts as old love songs in the background lulled tired passengers to sleep. I caught his reflection on the tinted side window and studied his face under the guise of reading billboards. And while at it, the only word that echoed inside my head was wow.

Wow. I was smitten.

Bloody was forty but he seemed to age gorgeously like Richard Gere. I wondered how he looked like when he was younger, how many girls fell for him and what percentage of these Bloody converts he took to bed and seriously considered walking down the altar. He certainly both had the face, the body, the wit and the charm. A combo that was far deadlier than all male IQ’s combined.

Maybe I should congratulate The Wife. She did a pretty good job in leashing him, taking away his right to the use of a mobile phone, and planting spies at his workplace. No. I do not try to be messianic. It's just me stating a fact of life that I can never have someone who was not mine in the first place.

He turned the lights on when we reached the destination. Everyone stepped out except for me and the couple seated in front. I hid behind the driver’s seat to avoid his gaze on the view mirror. When Bloody drove to the last stop, I decided to show up my face, smiled at him on the mirror and leaned forward to whisper “ingat”. He turned his head towards my direction, stretched out his arm to touch my shoulder and mumbled something like “nandyan ka pala”. I simply smiled at his amazement. Our gazes locked for what seemed to be forever before I finally released myself from his spell and reluctantly closed the door behind me.

I didn’t want to hear what else he had to say. This time, I may not be able to refuse him.