In response to challenge #4
Bizarre Love Triangle by Saturnine Rate PG-13/R
3,561 words
(yes I stole the title from the song by New Order, no, the story has nothing to do with the song)
My outburst in the courtroom led people to question my sanity. Defense, the repulsive Mr. Mustache, went so far as to suggest that I was the killer. My lawyer thought I must be affected by the overwhelming heat. I was dismissed from the courtroom. Who? I don’t remember.
I sat in the car, trembling. Going home would only invoke that terrible memory of that day when death swooped down and snatched her soul. I drove to the nearest hotel and made a reservation. The clerk at the front desk stared at me, no doubt intrigued by a man drenched in sweat, wearing a heavy gray coat over a hibiscus t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants.
He handed me the keys and I headed to my room. I had no belongings with me except a couple of textbooks that I always kept in the car. Logic dictates that I should take a shower and change my clothes. Instead, I was at the desk, perusing the pages of a textbook, concentrating on the words as opposed to my discomfort. Until I married, I had a passion for studying.
When I attended college, studying was my favorite pastime. Unlike most desperate young men, I didn’t care for women. There might have been gals with looks that aroused lust, but I didn’t care to look. I was oblivious and in return, the world would have treated me with indifference if studying yielded no results. My peers and teachers marveled at my brilliance, promising that my genius would not go unrewarded. Employment came easily. I had my own private office and an endless supply of funds to do my research. People were quick to envy my success and ignore my shortcomings. Besides, I had no wicked characteristics and no troubled past save for the usual childhood dilemmas, such as bullies and goldfish deaths. I did not backstab or cause discord among colleagues. How could I, if I stayed in the office all day, reading my books?
I had an eager and enthusiastic assistant by the name of Roger Worth helping me with my research. He told me that he was getting married and invited me to the wedding, which I missed due to my detachment to time. Roger was disappointed.
“You should have come!” he exclaimed as he organized files in my office.
“You know that I don’t care for these things,” I replied.
“Then you’re not the least interested in meeting Kitty?”
“I don’t see why you would be so anxious to introduce me to your cat.”
“No… do you listen to me at all? Kitty’s my wife.”
“What a cute nickname. So your wife’s name is Katherine or Kathy with a K?”
“No, no, no. Kitty is her real name.”
“Ah. I know a woman who insisted that Candy was not her nickname and that she did not go by Candace at all.”
“Anyways, you have to see her. She’s the greatest person in the world! Tonight, I’m holding a banquet at a fabulous seafood restaurant in honor of our wedding. You are coming… no more excuses this time. I’m making sure that you come.”
I smiled. Soon, I forgot about the banquet, working late into the evening. I didn’t notice Roger come into the office until he announced his presence and reminded me about the banquet.
“I’m not dressed for the part,” I admitted.
“Oh, you and your excuses! Just go and have a jolly time!”
I followed him to the parking lot where he left his car. A young woman emerged from the passenger seat of the car and greeted me with a firm handshake.
“Hello, you must be Mr. Arcadia. You won’t believe how much Roger admires your dedication to your work!”
I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say to the beaming, bright-eyed lass in the dazzling crimson dress.
“It’s quite obvious that you’re staring,” said Roger, grinning. “Yes, she does look quite striking. I picked out the dress myself.”
“Uh… I see,” I said.
“Well, don’t just stand there.”
“Huh?”
“Get in the car.”
As I took a seat, Roger whispered into my ear, “Don’t worry. Kitty is a nice person. She won’t bite, I promise!”
On the way to the seafood restaurant, Roger and Kitty were talkative and affectionate. I did not pay attention to whatever they were discussing and so I did not join in the conversation.
We arrived at the banquet, where Roger and Kitty met up with many of their guests, while I awkwardly waited. Roger introduced me to many people, the names and faces of which instantly fleeted my memory. He prompted me to take a seat at a large round table that seated thirteen people. The couple’s guests at the round table were a vivacious bunch, engaging in an endless flow of mindless chatter.
“Mr. Arcadia, you haven’t spoken all evening! Is something the matter?” asked Kitty with amazing concern for a person she just met.
“Oh, he is always quiet. Deep in thought, I guess.”
“What do you think he’s thinking about?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“What are you thinking about?” I was caught off guard.
“I’m sorry… what?”
“You were daydreaming!”
“Kitty, don’t scare the poor man!” Roger said playfully.
Embarrassed, I pulled off a trick I learned from past interactions with people. I smiled.
“I was thinking… I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, actually,” I said.
“I find that hard to believe,” said Kitty. “There is something on your mind that you would rather not say aloud.”
She read my mind.
“Isn’t she the greatest person in the world?” Roger put his arm around Kitty’s shoulder, raised his glass into the air, and shouted, “A toast to the greatest person in the world!”
Guests cheered.
“Awwww, they are such a happy couple, don’t you think?” said woman sitting next to me.
I nodded.
Roger drank the glass of red wine and poured some more into his glass. He let out a joyous, albeit bawdy laugh before raising the glass into his lips and quickly swallowing the liquid. Then he poured himself another glass. After a while, he grew tired of the action and drank directly from the bottle.
“I think you’ve had enough,” I said a little too softly for my voice to be heard above the volume of noise, the sound of people enjoying themselves in the restaurant.
Kitty had drunk quite a bit also and she was clapping her hands out of rhythm to Roger’s off-key singing. He wasn’t singing any song; it was some gibberish he made up that he thought were words.
“Kitty may be the greatest person in the world, but I am the greatest singer!” cried Roger.
“Hey, look at this!” cried Kitty, frantically waving her arms. Before I could do anything, she put her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.
“Stop! I’m jealous now!” screamed Roger.
….
I don’t remember what happened next. The rest of the evening was a blur. Somehow, I managed to drive the wild couple to my apartment, and they fell asleep at last in my living room. Roger slept on the floor while Kitty claimed the couch.
I was exhausted and eventually fell asleep in the armchair while reading a lengthy chapter in a textbook.
“I apologize for crashing your apartment. I hope we didn’t appear too silly,” said Roger.
“It’s no problem at all,” I lied. I was mad at myself for oversleeping.
“I feel so guilty… please let me make this up to this. How about I buy breakfast?” He hastily put on a coat and rushed outside before coming back in to retrieve the keys from me.
I examined Kitty’s sleeping form on the couch and noted that she looked fantastic even with tangled hair and ruined makeup, especially the lipstick stain on the corner of her mouth. She was still wearing that red dress. As the skirt had a slit in the side, I had an impressive view of one leg dangling over the couch.
Eventually, she woke up, groaning and stretching her arms. “Ughhh….where am I? Where’s Roger?”
“He’s getting breakfast.”
“Oh good, he’s gone.” She looked me in the eye. “A chance for me to talk to you alone.”
I didn’t know quite what to make of this. I said nothing, waiting for her to explain.
“I have doubts.”
“Doubts…?”
“Doubts about my marriage, silly!”
“I… don’t understand.”
She stood up, the thin linen cover sliding off her. “I want to be Mrs. Arcadia.”
“Uhhh… excuse me?”
“I like you… Roger is just…. I don’t know…” She fished for a word. “… not you.”
Well, obviously, he not me. An idea circulated in my mind that she was not yet sober, but she was… acting not drunk.
“What I mean is Roger will never be like you. Oh wait… that didn’t turn out right… did it? I have to say that you are much more intelligent than Roger and will obviously reach higher up the ladder than he will… he’ll always be your student… your assistant…. or for anybody else actually.”
“We just met,” I reminded her.
She laughed a little. “Funny thing. ‘We just met.’ Roger has told me so much about you that I feel like I know you intimately… which I hope will happen in real life.”
The whole time she was talking to me, I was uneasy, wondering how Roger would feel if he walked in on the conversation. I glanced at the window for any signs of his car or of his person.
I didn’t feel any better when he knocked on the door. I opened the door and Roger walked through, smiling and holding a bag of fast food.
“Breakfast muffins!” he said. “Good stuff. Eggs. Sausage. Bacon. Cheese. Clogs your arteries… hey, what’s wrong? You looked baffled.”
I shook my head. “It’s…” Kitty was right there, watching me. “…nothing.”
Later that day in my office, I told him what Kitty said.
“Oh… that’s what been bothering you. Don’t take her seriously. She has these intense crushes that don’t last long. I’ve known her since high school and she once broke up with me to date this guy in a band. Well, the relationship lasted about a week before she lost interest. She’s impulsive like that. Why is she smitten with you? I think that Kitty feels like you’re uncharted territory or something like that… just brush her off.”
If Kitty had been any other woman, I would have brushed her off easily. However, Kitty was different in some way I can’t quite put my finger on. Perhaps, it was her mercurial temperament? I thought about her more and more until it distracted my concentration and I could read a page without knowing recalling the information. I only saw the words, not the meaning behind the words. Words are just symbols after all. Those deemed vulgar would be just benevolent characters without that connotation attached. What if “fuck” is an emotion that describes happiness instead of being an expletive? Would it be one of those words that elicit gasps from parents and teachers and figures of authority?
Anyhow, I digress… this is like me to try to detach myself from an emotional situation. Unlike any other human being I have met, Kitty brought out a dormant part of me. Ever since I was younger, I knew I possessed an ability to devote myself completely into something, which I learned unfortunately by wasting time on video games. Once I got started, I had to reach the finish. When the levels became almost too difficult to beat, I couldn’t quit. I had to become good enough to win the game. Over time, I decided that video games were not worth my time and I directed my obsessive streak towards a productive activity, hence the constant studying that defines and consumes me.
Only studying seemed a bit dull compared to the lady in the red dress. I can bring her up in memory, but memory has its limitations. Her image and voice were vague and distorted. I had to interact with the real person rather than flirting with recollections.
I could not possibly tell Roger about my new infatuation, yet I wished to see her again and I needed an excuse to do so, or at least to hear about her. Every day, I would ask Roger how she was doing and it was always the same answer.
“She’s fine,” said Roger. He would slip in a couple more words, such as “she’s bored at home” or “she doesn’t like being a housewife,” but not enough.
I would scrutinize his face to make sure he didn’t suspect anything and sure enough, he was his usual friendly self. Then I detected subtle changes in him, like in the way that he would shut the door. Normally, I wouldn’t notice, except that I was too preoccupied with Kitty.
Finally, he confessed that he had been arguing with Kitty. “Remember how I told you that she despises cooking? Well, we fought over that and some other things. I told her that if she didn’t like being stuck at home, she should find a job and she reacted like a true Aries. She refuses to talk to me now.”
Within me, I had conflicting feelings of sympathy for my friend and selfish hope for myself.
I carefully chose my words. “She’s probably get over it.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the support, buddy.” Inwardly, I cringed. No matter how I tried to push it aside, I had a hunch that something was going to happen with me, Roger, and Kitty. I don’t know what.
After Roger had left the office, Kitty called.
“I don’t want to be in the same room with Roger. Can I spend the night at your apartment instead?”
“Uhhhh…. Roger isn’t home at the moment?”
“No. I sent him to buy groceries. I’ll just leave him a note, saying that I went to dance lessons.”
“You have dance lessons this evening?”
“Yes I do, so it won’t be a flat-out lie, but I’m skipping tonight.”
“I don’t think Roger will approve.”
“Psh. Of course he won’t approve. Why do you think I sent him out?”
“Then no, you cannot spend the night in my apartment.”
“Okay… how about a compromise?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Uhhh… let me think.” I waited for a full minute.
“How about you and I and Roger…. yes, the three of us… how about we all go to dance lessons… ballroom dancing…”
“I don’t know how to dance.”
“That’s why you’re taking lessons!”
“Uh, I can’t say no.”
“Wonderful! I could kiss you!”
“Don’t.”
I hung up the phone and resumed my usual duties before it rang again.
“My wife wants us to take lessons with her just for one night. I couldn’t say no to her.” He laughed. “The secret is out. I don’t know how to dance.”
“Me neither.”
“I don’t know what you said to her, but I’m glad she’s talking to me again.”
Roger paid a surprise visit to my apartment. I was in the middle of “cooking,” which consists of heating up frozen cuisine in the microwave, a lost art form, selecting just the right time and waiting for the tray to cool. I discovered that the directions on the box sometimes didn’t correspond exactly to the power of my microwave.
“You should learn how to cook,” Roger said.
“Does Kitty know how to cook?” I asked.
“No, actually, and she absolutely will not learn. What you two have in common is that you both like abstractions rather than practical matters.” Roger sighed. “She’s hopeless. She doesn’t know how to cook, clean, or sew. Every night, she goes out: ballroom dancing, astrology classes, art and ceramics. Quite a spendthrift as well. Our home is full of watercolor paintings, expensive tapestries, and exotic plants. We have one water fountain shaped like Cupid out in the garden.”
“Can you afford all this?!”
“No… I’m afraid to see my credit card bill this month. We are going to be in debt.” He looked a bit distraught.
“Roger, what’s taking so long?” a voice called out from outside the apartment. I pulled back the curtains and saw Kitty waiting in the car, stunningly dressed in a gown with a plunging neckline.
Roger forced a smile and said, “I don’t know why I told you all that. Let’s go out and have fun.”
Wow, she’s not the greatest person in the world, after all.
“No, let’s not,” I said.
“We can’t keep her waiting.” I heard Kitty honking furiously outside.
“I’m coming!” shouted Roger over the noise and he opened the door to leave when Kitty ran to the front step, holding up her skirt as to not trip.
“What’s taking so long?” she said breathlessly.
“Have some patience! We will go in no time.”
“We might as well not go at all.”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“Well, I was planning on not going anyways. I already know the steps.”
“But what about the $50 I pay for each lesson-”
Kitty was not listening to him. She walked past him to talk to me.
“I’m leading,” she said. “Just do as I do.”
Before I could protest, she took my arm and she started to whirl around as I tried to keep up. Roger and I exchanged puzzled looks.
“I don’t think this is ballroom dancing,” I said, observing her grandiose movement of her arms and legs.
“I’m trying to be a gypsy.”
She released my arm and attempted to twirl around like an inexperienced ballerina on her toes. She lost her balance and fell on the couch, laughing and I, deciding to play around, laughed with her.
“I wish I had a tambourine!” she said.
“We have enough junk in our house as it is,” Roger scolded her.
“Oh hush! You’re always trying me what to do and how to act. I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”
Kitty danced some more and I watched, observing her wild gestures and once again, she captivated me. I tried not to stare as Roger had said I was too obvious, but she seemed to enjoy the attention. In the midst of her formless dancing, she winked at me.
Tired at last and with the sun rising in a few hours, she bid goodbye as she walked out the door holding Roger’s hand.
“You must come with me to my lessons!” she said, blowing a kiss while Roger was not looking. I obeyed her, showing up at all of the places where she took lessons. Roger came too, even when she urged him to stay home. When we were in classroom, she chatted excessively with me and I found myself enjoying her company as well as the classes. In ceramics, I made a vase upon to which to put the flowers she learned how to arrange in yet another class.
Meanwhile, in the office, Roger became very silent. We only made small talk. As the weeks flew by, Roger said in a rather strange voice, “Somehow, I feel like the third wheel whenever Kitty, you, and I go out.”
I said nothing in response. “File the papers by chronological order,” I instructed him.
He smiled bitterly. “You know what? I quit.” He pulled books off the shelf and threw them into a box without checking to see what they were.
“You should give at least a week of notice if you’re planning to terminate your job,” I said.
“I should, shouldn’t I?” His face was contorted. “I hope you’re happy.”
“Why should I be?”
“Hahahaha, that’s funny. I’m getting a divorce soon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Sorry.” He shook his fist at me. “The irony! You’re not sorry. All along, you’re been waiting for this moment. You just don’t know how obvious you are. Live happily ever after, won’t you?”
Roger slammed the door and I didn’t try to keep in touch nor did Kitty ever mention his name after.
In the hotel room, I remembered suddenly that I should have told Roger about her death. He might have heard the news elsewhere, but I wasn’t so sure. I hesitated, wondering how he would react. I haven’t seen him in years. I imagined he carried on with his life, marrying somebody else and having children. Together, they were probably living happily ever after in a middle-class neighborhood.
I stared at the phone, knowing that I didn’t have to call him and yet, I felt like it was an obligation to do so.
I dialed his number and counted the number of rings.
“Hello?” a gruff voice answered.
I didn’t respond right away.
“Hello? Is this a prank call? I’m too old for these games.”
Sensing that he was about to hang out, I quickly said my name.
“Oh, it’s you. I heard about the ghastly murder on the news… you don’t have to tell me. You must be devastated.”
“How are you coping?”
“I have a confession to make.”
“Promise me you won’t be offended.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I kind of wished it would happen… you know, the kind of childish wish that you make that someone would die that you really don’t mean?”
Upset, I hung up the phone and resumed reading my book.
My outburst in the courtroom led people to question my sanity. Defense, the repulsive Mr. Mustache, went so far as to suggest that I was the killer. My lawyer thought I must be affected by the overwhelming heat. I was dismissed from the courtroom. Who? I don’t remember.
I sat in the car, trembling. Going home would only invoke that terrible memory of that day when death swooped down and snatched her soul. I drove to the nearest hotel and made a reservation. The clerk at the front desk stared at me, no doubt intrigued by a man drenched in sweat, wearing a heavy gray coat over a hibiscus t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants.
He handed me the keys and I headed to my room. I had no belongings with me except a couple of textbooks that I always kept in the car. Logic dictates that I should take a shower and change my clothes. Instead, I was at the desk, perusing the pages of a textbook, concentrating on the words as opposed to my discomfort. Until I married, I had a passion for studying.
When I attended college, studying was my favorite pastime. Unlike most desperate young men, I didn’t care for women. There might have been gals with looks that aroused lust, but I didn’t care to look. I was oblivious and in return, the world would have treated me with indifference if studying yielded no results. My peers and teachers marveled at my brilliance, promising that my genius would not go unrewarded. Employment came easily. I had my own private office and an endless supply of funds to do my research. People were quick to envy my success and ignore my shortcomings. Besides, I had no wicked characteristics and no troubled past save for the usual childhood dilemmas, such as bullies and goldfish deaths. I did not backstab or cause discord among colleagues. How could I, if I stayed in the office all day, reading my books?
I had an eager and enthusiastic assistant by the name of Roger Worth helping me with my research. He told me that he was getting married and invited me to the wedding, which I missed due to my detachment to time. Roger was disappointed.
“You should have come!” he exclaimed as he organized files in my office.
“You know that I don’t care for these things,” I replied.
“Then you’re not the least interested in meeting Kitty?”
“I don’t see why you would be so anxious to introduce me to your cat.”
“No… do you listen to me at all? Kitty’s my wife.”
“What a cute nickname. So your wife’s name is Katherine or Kathy with a K?”
“No, no, no. Kitty is her real name.”
“Ah. I know a woman who insisted that Candy was not her nickname and that she did not go by Candace at all.”
“Anyways, you have to see her. She’s the greatest person in the world! Tonight, I’m holding a banquet at a fabulous seafood restaurant in honor of our wedding. You are coming… no more excuses this time. I’m making sure that you come.”
I smiled. Soon, I forgot about the banquet, working late into the evening. I didn’t notice Roger come into the office until he announced his presence and reminded me about the banquet.
“I’m not dressed for the part,” I admitted.
“Oh, you and your excuses! Just go and have a jolly time!”
I followed him to the parking lot where he left his car. A young woman emerged from the passenger seat of the car and greeted me with a firm handshake.
“Hello, you must be Mr. Arcadia. You won’t believe how much Roger admires your dedication to your work!”
I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say to the beaming, bright-eyed lass in the dazzling crimson dress.
“It’s quite obvious that you’re staring,” said Roger, grinning. “Yes, she does look quite striking. I picked out the dress myself.”
“Uh… I see,” I said.
“Well, don’t just stand there.”
“Huh?”
“Get in the car.”
As I took a seat, Roger whispered into my ear, “Don’t worry. Kitty is a nice person. She won’t bite, I promise!”
On the way to the seafood restaurant, Roger and Kitty were talkative and affectionate. I did not pay attention to whatever they were discussing and so I did not join in the conversation.
We arrived at the banquet, where Roger and Kitty met up with many of their guests, while I awkwardly waited. Roger introduced me to many people, the names and faces of which instantly fleeted my memory. He prompted me to take a seat at a large round table that seated thirteen people. The couple’s guests at the round table were a vivacious bunch, engaging in an endless flow of mindless chatter.
“Mr. Arcadia, you haven’t spoken all evening! Is something the matter?” asked Kitty with amazing concern for a person she just met.
“Oh, he is always quiet. Deep in thought, I guess.”
“What do you think he’s thinking about?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“What are you thinking about?” I was caught off guard.
“I’m sorry… what?”
“You were daydreaming!”
“Kitty, don’t scare the poor man!” Roger said playfully.
Embarrassed, I pulled off a trick I learned from past interactions with people. I smiled.
“I was thinking… I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, actually,” I said.
“I find that hard to believe,” said Kitty. “There is something on your mind that you would rather not say aloud.”
She read my mind.
“Isn’t she the greatest person in the world?” Roger put his arm around Kitty’s shoulder, raised his glass into the air, and shouted, “A toast to the greatest person in the world!”
Guests cheered.
“Awwww, they are such a happy couple, don’t you think?” said woman sitting next to me.
I nodded.
Roger drank the glass of red wine and poured some more into his glass. He let out a joyous, albeit bawdy laugh before raising the glass into his lips and quickly swallowing the liquid. Then he poured himself another glass. After a while, he grew tired of the action and drank directly from the bottle.
“I think you’ve had enough,” I said a little too softly for my voice to be heard above the volume of noise, the sound of people enjoying themselves in the restaurant.
Kitty had drunk quite a bit also and she was clapping her hands out of rhythm to Roger’s off-key singing. He wasn’t singing any song; it was some gibberish he made up that he thought were words.
“Kitty may be the greatest person in the world, but I am the greatest singer!” cried Roger.
“Hey, look at this!” cried Kitty, frantically waving her arms. Before I could do anything, she put her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.
“Stop! I’m jealous now!” screamed Roger.
….
I don’t remember what happened next. The rest of the evening was a blur. Somehow, I managed to drive the wild couple to my apartment, and they fell asleep at last in my living room. Roger slept on the floor while Kitty claimed the couch.
I was exhausted and eventually fell asleep in the armchair while reading a lengthy chapter in a textbook.
“I apologize for crashing your apartment. I hope we didn’t appear too silly,” said Roger.
“It’s no problem at all,” I lied. I was mad at myself for oversleeping.
“I feel so guilty… please let me make this up to this. How about I buy breakfast?” He hastily put on a coat and rushed outside before coming back in to retrieve the keys from me.
I examined Kitty’s sleeping form on the couch and noted that she looked fantastic even with tangled hair and ruined makeup, especially the lipstick stain on the corner of her mouth. She was still wearing that red dress. As the skirt had a slit in the side, I had an impressive view of one leg dangling over the couch.
Eventually, she woke up, groaning and stretching her arms. “Ughhh….where am I? Where’s Roger?”
“He’s getting breakfast.”
“Oh good, he’s gone.” She looked me in the eye. “A chance for me to talk to you alone.”
I didn’t know quite what to make of this. I said nothing, waiting for her to explain.
“I have doubts.”
“Doubts…?”
“Doubts about my marriage, silly!”
“I… don’t understand.”
She stood up, the thin linen cover sliding off her. “I want to be Mrs. Arcadia.”
“Uhhh… excuse me?”
“I like you… Roger is just…. I don’t know…” She fished for a word. “… not you.”
Well, obviously, he not me. An idea circulated in my mind that she was not yet sober, but she was… acting not drunk.
“What I mean is Roger will never be like you. Oh wait… that didn’t turn out right… did it? I have to say that you are much more intelligent than Roger and will obviously reach higher up the ladder than he will… he’ll always be your student… your assistant…. or for anybody else actually.”
“We just met,” I reminded her.
She laughed a little. “Funny thing. ‘We just met.’ Roger has told me so much about you that I feel like I know you intimately… which I hope will happen in real life.”
The whole time she was talking to me, I was uneasy, wondering how Roger would feel if he walked in on the conversation. I glanced at the window for any signs of his car or of his person.
I didn’t feel any better when he knocked on the door. I opened the door and Roger walked through, smiling and holding a bag of fast food.
“Breakfast muffins!” he said. “Good stuff. Eggs. Sausage. Bacon. Cheese. Clogs your arteries… hey, what’s wrong? You looked baffled.”
I shook my head. “It’s…” Kitty was right there, watching me. “…nothing.”
Later that day in my office, I told him what Kitty said.
“Oh… that’s what been bothering you. Don’t take her seriously. She has these intense crushes that don’t last long. I’ve known her since high school and she once broke up with me to date this guy in a band. Well, the relationship lasted about a week before she lost interest. She’s impulsive like that. Why is she smitten with you? I think that Kitty feels like you’re uncharted territory or something like that… just brush her off.”
If Kitty had been any other woman, I would have brushed her off easily. However, Kitty was different in some way I can’t quite put my finger on. Perhaps, it was her mercurial temperament? I thought about her more and more until it distracted my concentration and I could read a page without knowing recalling the information. I only saw the words, not the meaning behind the words. Words are just symbols after all. Those deemed vulgar would be just benevolent characters without that connotation attached. What if “fuck” is an emotion that describes happiness instead of being an expletive? Would it be one of those words that elicit gasps from parents and teachers and figures of authority?
Anyhow, I digress… this is like me to try to detach myself from an emotional situation. Unlike any other human being I have met, Kitty brought out a dormant part of me. Ever since I was younger, I knew I possessed an ability to devote myself completely into something, which I learned unfortunately by wasting time on video games. Once I got started, I had to reach the finish. When the levels became almost too difficult to beat, I couldn’t quit. I had to become good enough to win the game. Over time, I decided that video games were not worth my time and I directed my obsessive streak towards a productive activity, hence the constant studying that defines and consumes me.
Only studying seemed a bit dull compared to the lady in the red dress. I can bring her up in memory, but memory has its limitations. Her image and voice were vague and distorted. I had to interact with the real person rather than flirting with recollections.
I could not possibly tell Roger about my new infatuation, yet I wished to see her again and I needed an excuse to do so, or at least to hear about her. Every day, I would ask Roger how she was doing and it was always the same answer.
“She’s fine,” said Roger. He would slip in a couple more words, such as “she’s bored at home” or “she doesn’t like being a housewife,” but not enough.
I would scrutinize his face to make sure he didn’t suspect anything and sure enough, he was his usual friendly self. Then I detected subtle changes in him, like in the way that he would shut the door. Normally, I wouldn’t notice, except that I was too preoccupied with Kitty.
Finally, he confessed that he had been arguing with Kitty. “Remember how I told you that she despises cooking? Well, we fought over that and some other things. I told her that if she didn’t like being stuck at home, she should find a job and she reacted like a true Aries. She refuses to talk to me now.”
Within me, I had conflicting feelings of sympathy for my friend and selfish hope for myself.
I carefully chose my words. “She’s probably get over it.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the support, buddy.” Inwardly, I cringed. No matter how I tried to push it aside, I had a hunch that something was going to happen with me, Roger, and Kitty. I don’t know what.
After Roger had left the office, Kitty called.
“I don’t want to be in the same room with Roger. Can I spend the night at your apartment instead?”
“Uhhhh…. Roger isn’t home at the moment?”
“No. I sent him to buy groceries. I’ll just leave him a note, saying that I went to dance lessons.”
“You have dance lessons this evening?”
“Yes I do, so it won’t be a flat-out lie, but I’m skipping tonight.”
“I don’t think Roger will approve.”
“Psh. Of course he won’t approve. Why do you think I sent him out?”
“Then no, you cannot spend the night in my apartment.”
“Okay… how about a compromise?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Uhhh… let me think.” I waited for a full minute.
“How about you and I and Roger…. yes, the three of us… how about we all go to dance lessons… ballroom dancing…”
“I don’t know how to dance.”
“That’s why you’re taking lessons!”
“Uh, I can’t say no.”
“Wonderful! I could kiss you!”
“Don’t.”
I hung up the phone and resumed my usual duties before it rang again.
“My wife wants us to take lessons with her just for one night. I couldn’t say no to her.” He laughed. “The secret is out. I don’t know how to dance.”
“Me neither.”
“I don’t know what you said to her, but I’m glad she’s talking to me again.”
Roger paid a surprise visit to my apartment. I was in the middle of “cooking,” which consists of heating up frozen cuisine in the microwave, a lost art form, selecting just the right time and waiting for the tray to cool. I discovered that the directions on the box sometimes didn’t correspond exactly to the power of my microwave.
“You should learn how to cook,” Roger said.
“Does Kitty know how to cook?” I asked.
“No, actually, and she absolutely will not learn. What you two have in common is that you both like abstractions rather than practical matters.” Roger sighed. “She’s hopeless. She doesn’t know how to cook, clean, or sew. Every night, she goes out: ballroom dancing, astrology classes, art and ceramics. Quite a spendthrift as well. Our home is full of watercolor paintings, expensive tapestries, and exotic plants. We have one water fountain shaped like Cupid out in the garden.”
“Can you afford all this?!”
“No… I’m afraid to see my credit card bill this month. We are going to be in debt.” He looked a bit distraught.
“Roger, what’s taking so long?” a voice called out from outside the apartment. I pulled back the curtains and saw Kitty waiting in the car, stunningly dressed in a gown with a plunging neckline.
Roger forced a smile and said, “I don’t know why I told you all that. Let’s go out and have fun.”
Wow, she’s not the greatest person in the world, after all.
“No, let’s not,” I said.
“We can’t keep her waiting.” I heard Kitty honking furiously outside.
“I’m coming!” shouted Roger over the noise and he opened the door to leave when Kitty ran to the front step, holding up her skirt as to not trip.
“What’s taking so long?” she said breathlessly.
“Have some patience! We will go in no time.”
“We might as well not go at all.”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“Well, I was planning on not going anyways. I already know the steps.”
“But what about the $50 I pay for each lesson-”
Kitty was not listening to him. She walked past him to talk to me.
“I’m leading,” she said. “Just do as I do.”
Before I could protest, she took my arm and she started to whirl around as I tried to keep up. Roger and I exchanged puzzled looks.
“I don’t think this is ballroom dancing,” I said, observing her grandiose movement of her arms and legs.
“I’m trying to be a gypsy.”
She released my arm and attempted to twirl around like an inexperienced ballerina on her toes. She lost her balance and fell on the couch, laughing and I, deciding to play around, laughed with her.
“I wish I had a tambourine!” she said.
“We have enough junk in our house as it is,” Roger scolded her.
“Oh hush! You’re always trying me what to do and how to act. I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”
Kitty danced some more and I watched, observing her wild gestures and once again, she captivated me. I tried not to stare as Roger had said I was too obvious, but she seemed to enjoy the attention. In the midst of her formless dancing, she winked at me.
Tired at last and with the sun rising in a few hours, she bid goodbye as she walked out the door holding Roger’s hand.
“You must come with me to my lessons!” she said, blowing a kiss while Roger was not looking. I obeyed her, showing up at all of the places where she took lessons. Roger came too, even when she urged him to stay home. When we were in classroom, she chatted excessively with me and I found myself enjoying her company as well as the classes. In ceramics, I made a vase upon to which to put the flowers she learned how to arrange in yet another class.
Meanwhile, in the office, Roger became very silent. We only made small talk. As the weeks flew by, Roger said in a rather strange voice, “Somehow, I feel like the third wheel whenever Kitty, you, and I go out.”
I said nothing in response. “File the papers by chronological order,” I instructed him.
He smiled bitterly. “You know what? I quit.” He pulled books off the shelf and threw them into a box without checking to see what they were.
“You should give at least a week of notice if you’re planning to terminate your job,” I said.
“I should, shouldn’t I?” His face was contorted. “I hope you’re happy.”
“Why should I be?”
“Hahahaha, that’s funny. I’m getting a divorce soon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Sorry.” He shook his fist at me. “The irony! You’re not sorry. All along, you’re been waiting for this moment. You just don’t know how obvious you are. Live happily ever after, won’t you?”
Roger slammed the door and I didn’t try to keep in touch nor did Kitty ever mention his name after.
In the hotel room, I remembered suddenly that I should have told Roger about her death. He might have heard the news elsewhere, but I wasn’t so sure. I hesitated, wondering how he would react. I haven’t seen him in years. I imagined he carried on with his life, marrying somebody else and having children. Together, they were probably living happily ever after in a middle-class neighborhood.
I stared at the phone, knowing that I didn’t have to call him and yet, I felt like it was an obligation to do so.
I dialed his number and counted the number of rings.
“Hello?” a gruff voice answered.
I didn’t respond right away.
“Hello? Is this a prank call? I’m too old for these games.”
Sensing that he was about to hang out, I quickly said my name.
“Oh, it’s you. I heard about the ghastly murder on the news… you don’t have to tell me. You must be devastated.”
“How are you coping?”
“I have a confession to make.”
“Promise me you won’t be offended.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I kind of wished it would happen… you know, the kind of childish wish that you make that someone would die that you really don’t mean?”
Upset, I hung up the phone and resumed reading my book.