65. Deathrow High
The light was off and Ai Leen in bed by the time I walked out from the bathroom. I found this odd, terribly odd and I was fucking perplexed. Regardless, I pretended otherwise and slept beside. Tried recalling Shirley’s behaviour to compare if there was anything similar, but instead, what hit me was a collage of relationship blunders. Moreover, Shirley and I never ever did spend many nights together. I can count the occasions with the fingers on my hands.
For fifteen minutes we lay there. I assumed she was asleep and tried not to adjust my position. I move a lot in bed. The reasons for these movements are: one, I tend to be a light sleeper and require at least an hour to toss and turn before the brain decides finally to shut down and relax; and two, I felt awkward with the current state of affairs.
“Why do you love me?” came a voice in the dark suddenly. As there was no one else in the room I took it to be Ai Leen’s. If not…then are we in for a lot of trouble, I’ve heard countless ghost stories involving hotels.
“Why do you love me?” she asked again. With my pre-thoughts lingering on the supernatural, I’d totally forgotten the significance of this question.
“Er…what?” came my reply.
“Are you asleep?”
“No.”
“So, why do you love me?”
“Well…I…er…” this came as a surprise. It’s not that I don’t have an answer; it’s just that my mind wasn’t exactly working on those lines. Where was it, you ask? Where else!!! This being the case, it’s imperative I provide the correct information and not shoot off my…er…head…
“And don’t give me one of those “becos yer caring and supportive” type of answers,” she added.
“Why do I love you?” I repeated, “Simple. Yer positive.”
“That’s all?”
“Besides the “caring and supportive” element,” I saw the silhouette of my hands doing the quotation mark in the night, “You always see things from simple but effective point of views, and…and…you’re naturally fun.”
“Simple, fun…” she thought about it, “aren’t these shallow ingredients?” she wanted to know. It was dark, so I couldn’t see her facial structure. Was she frowning, disheartened, or inquisitive? I didn’t know.
But I knew beyond all doubt I had to give a positive comment. So I said, “On the contrary! Look at me; I’m deep and serious…”
“No yer not,” she piped in with a dash of delirium, “You jump around with no clothes on…haha.”
“So do you,” I inflicted revenge. I wanted to mount her right there and then, but something prohibited. Perhaps it has to do with the topic of conversation. And for a fleeting moment too I wondered whether dancing naked triggers openness and the desire to disclose deep matters of the heart.
“But isn’t it considered shallow?” she further enquired, “Everybody, nowadays, wants to be knowledgeable, have their opinion and interpretation of things; and what with the world getting smaller through communication, advancement and all.”
“That’s not true about you,” I assured, “You have your opinion on things.”
“Prove it.”
“Like…like…this afternoon, you were saying that love should be the decisive factor for actions; that’s pretty deep. In fact that’s the deepest thing anyone could say.”
“But that’s so common; anybody can say it. In fact, everybody does,” she slammed her average character, “I bet yer just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No, no,” I insisted, “Look at me…I’m deep and complicating…but…but it’s gotten me nowhere. I struggle with questions that I have no answers for, but…but…you on the other hand, you just accept things as they are and live to the max.”
“But I’ve seen the way you allow things to touch you, like this morning. That’s just so marvellous, and the way you talk about your relationship with God in the past and…re…recently, dancing. You’ve beaten me by now,” she justified; her sound, slightly morose.
However, I didn’t want to take full credit. Besides, it concerns love and truth, so I added to her advantage, “I couldn’t have done any of it without you. I wouldn’t have found the beauty of dance had you not been around. You…you are my inspiration. You’d always been since I got to know you…`cos…`cos…you’re so…so…so FREE…!”
Quietness oozed in as if it were goo from a Ghostbusters movie. It covered the door and the carpet, plus the desks and lampshades. Slowly its on-reaching tentacles crept up the bed, and it very well looked like we were about to slumber in its enveloping embrace when…a bug bit me and I asked, “What about you? Why do you love me?”
She thought for a while, and finally produced the following, “Your perspectives…”
“What about them?”
“Don’t interrupt.”
“Sorrie…” I apologized.
“As I was saying, your perspectives. They’re different from everyone else’s. It excites me…spurs me, and, and yer both serious and funny at the same time.”
I didn’t want to query any longer. I knew that her answer gave me something to sharpen and hone. That something wiggled in my mind and I had to work it out…but tomorrow. Now I rolled over to face the wall. With no physical contact with my love…I slept, and my cock along with me. Strange…
AI generated art prompted by author
All characters and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental