The Flower Farm

Note: Bloody in many parts - Part 9

Are you happy?

The question snatched his thoughts back to present reality. I studied his face with the hope of finding signs of brain activity. His right hand held mine so tight as if I would disappear from his side anytime. He was driving on our way back to my office.

I had questions rehearsing themselves inside my head. And while it took Bloody forever to give his reluctant yes, I couldn't resist asking some more. If he's happy, what was he doing here with me? What about those two other women I saw he flirted with last Christmas? He justified his philandering by his ability to provide for the family. As long as no one got hungry, it's ceasefire. He winked at me.

I felt his pulse, inspected his nails and gave his hand a crude massage. Maybe that would drive enough blood supply to his brains and let him see things as they were. He drove around the place with one hand on the steering wheel and alternated it on the clutch. His mind flew out of the window and landed somewhere along that dusty highway to be run over by trucks.

We met earlier that day at the other terminal on my way to work. It was the first time we were together on a daytime. I felt relaxed and comfortable sitting beside him while we were telling each other vacation plans for the Holy Week. From time to time, I could feel his hand on the clutch brush against my knee and would sometimes rest his arm on mine. When all passengers were gone, he started holding my hand. The warm fuzzy feeling was intoxicating me.

Out of the blue I blurted things I should have not said. Words like sleepy, tired and hungry had underlying meanings in the male dictionary that I wasn’t aware of. Before I knew it, he turned left on the road that would lead us to that particular spot famous for motel chains I bluntly labeled "the flower farm". I saw in his eyes the quiet determination to pin me down somewhere.

Then my life flashed before me.

I just couldn't do it. A quick roll in the hay was never included in my plan. It took so much persuasion on my part for him to finally turn around and head back to the main highway.

That gorgeous smile that brought sunshine to my day was wiped out by pain of rejection. The most charming guy in the terminal had just failed to score on a naive 30-something virgin. But Bloody wasn't the type who would just give up on selling the idea to me. We're old enough, he said.

Stealing him from his wife could be easy. Really. He had not seen that dark side of me - my persuasion, persistence and creativity. But it was far way below me and Bloody already knew I was too chicken for anything like that. All of these stupid mind games had morphed itself into an entity I was afraid to even look in the eye.

I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I felt his hand clasp mine. It was already close to noon and we were stuck in the middle of the traffic. The heat outside already reached a sweaty degree that we could actually fry an egg on the windshield. The comfort inside those air-conditioned rooms of the flower farm a few blocks away was beckoning me. I shut the thought out of my head.

Bloody put his arm around me as he pulled over in front our building. I was about to say goodbye when he leaned forward and kissed my lips without saying a word. It just blew my mind away.