Love’s Odyssey: A Journey of the Heart

Will she pull through? Chances were high; it was, after all, her who had approached him. He couldn’t believe his luck. To be honest, no guy his age would. He peered through the gas station’s glass door to see if she was still in his car. So far, so good. It’s all about the money, honey!

He walked through the door, towards his car, in measured strides. His mind, though, was a blur of motion; orchestrating the plan from beginning to end; racing through it mostly, but meticulously even, going piece by piece. He handed her a paper bag; in it was a smoothie and a bar of Hershey’s Milk Chocolate. He figured she would appreciate the gesture. He got himself a box of Pringles and a coffee. Lunch, or rather the lack of it, hadn’t been satiating. It was at the diner he had gone for lunch that the young lady, sitting in his car at the moment, had approached him upon hearing that he was headed to the town she desperately wanted to get to. Once he was sold to the idea of taking her with him, and in the anticipation of what lay ahead, his appetite had been misplaced. Now, it had found its way back.

“So, do you want to talk about it … why things are so messed up for you?” He plopped a few crisps into his mouth before offering her any.

She clenched a few in her palm; she hadn’t eaten much all day either. She had gone to the diner that very morning for a one-day gig so she could make enough money for a bus ride to her grandparents. “I told you I need to get to my daughter a-sap. My grandparents can’t look after her anymore. My granny, I told you, is … kinda sick.”

“And your parents?”

“My dad was never around. My mom is a druggie; has been since Dad officially left. She was so messed up back then that it got me messed up; trying to trace my selfhood, trying to trace love. Got pregnant at the age of seventeen. I decided to keep it … so my grandparents took me in. But after my daughter was born, I ran away; leaving her with them. She was all of two months. I guess I wasn’t ready. My grandparents looked after her well. I called, now and then; told them I wanna see her but I can’t look after her. I didn’t have the means; whatever I would manage to earn would be eaten up by the end of the day. I missed her, I did … she’s now fourteen months. When Granddad called last night, I didn’t know what to do; I couldn’t go back with nothing on me. But now, with the … money coming …” she glanced at the guy, “now things have changed. I can show my grandparents that I …” She paused, glancing at the guy again, “I’ll make good with the money, I promise. Thank you. Thank you.”

“You’re okay with our arrangement? I take it you do not want to rethink.” He knew what he had asked of her; had offered to pay her well for it, but he wasn’t sure she was cognizant of his requirements from her. He wasn’t specific about his intentions; he didn’t want to scare her off. But then, not being specific could’ve also been misconstrued. Well, so far, so good. He decided to go with the flow.

“What about you? Family?” She hadn’t missed the shadow of a ring on his finger. Divorced!

“Divorced. I have a daughter, but I haven’t met her in a while.”

“How old is she?”

Just a little younger than you. “Seventeen.”

Just a little younger than me. Gawd, what am I doing? “With her mom?” She waited for the nod before continuing, “When was the last you met her?”

He looked out the window. He didn’t reply immediately; he couldn’t give himself away. Nine years. “It’s … been a while.”

“A while, as in … months? Years?”

“Years.”

She wondered what would’ve kept him from meeting her. She knew what kept her from meeting her own dad; he never once came back or inquired about her.

The five-hour journey did not zip by for them; they didn’t have much to talk about apart from what they had already shared, and declared, to each other. He put on the radio; Keith Urban was crooning ‘Making Memories of Us’. She listened to the guy hum along; waited for the song to end, and then switched channels till she caught Zayn pulsating “Love Like This’. They took their turns switching channels; it was a long drive.

They stopped for one snacks-and-bathroom break before arriving at her grandparents’.

“So, uh … I’ll spend today and tomorrow with them and my baby … see how granny is. You’ll come to pick me up the day after, at 10am, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

He handed her $225—one-fourth of what he had promised her for one whole day of hers; from one morning to the next. His gut told him she wouldn’t back out.

Two days later he was there on time; standing by his car, dressed in a blue tweed jacket and beige chinos. She could tell her grandparents he was her boss, if she willed.

She came out of the house with a cabin bag by her side, and a smile. She didn’t want her smile to say more than it was supposed to, but it stiffened just as she was about to get into his car, letting trip out emotions she hadn’t been sensitized to the last time she was with him. That split-second display was not lost on him, but he said nothing. He placed his hand on her hand that was idling on her thigh, gave it a double tap, and roared the engine.

The next day, right after a hearty brunch he drove her back to her grandparents’, as promised. He handed her the balance amount, as promised. He stepped out of the car, opened the door for her, and hugged her. “I would like to meet you again.” He looked into her eyes; her eyes looked hopeful.

But she, only half- smiled, and ran into the house; the money secure in her fist. She dumped her bag by the stairs, ran up to her room without meeting anyone, shut the door, and fell on the bed, crying. She cried and cried. The money, on the floor; crumbled, forgotten.

*

She couldn’t help but feel jittery when the guy had showed up that day, at her grandparents’ driveway. She had hoped he wouldn’t; she had taken the advance, needed the rest of the money he had offered her, and yet, hoped, with a twist of fate, he wouldn’t show up. Apprehensive, nervous; uneasy with the thought of what lay ahead, she had walked out of the door and shut it behind her. But all the way to the restaurant where he took her for lunch, the guy had been the perfect gentleman, refraining from any suggestive gestures or conversation.

He got out of the car, went around to her door, and offered his hand to help her step out. She expected his hand to slide onto her waist as he ushered her into the upscale restaurant, but it didn’t.

He and she were seated, and handed the menu. Red wine was requested.

“Duck?”

Her eyes widened. “Sure.”

There were served seafood salad and spring rolls and sweet potato fries, and duck pancakes with sweet bean sauce. She desired to indulge, and have her fill but wondered if she should leave her stomach less satisfied. A full stomach could be a party pooper. She could indulge in the wine, though.

Some twenty minutes later, as the plates were being cleared, he looked at her, straight in the eye; the look willful, suggestive, delinquent. “Fancy an Oreo McFlurry from Mcds?”

Her eyes widened again. “Yes, please!”

Zooming out of the drive-through, she asked, “Where to from here?”

“My place.”

Her heart went Pang! His first suggestive move finally came through.

He had a beautiful home; glamorous, spotless. There was welcoming warmth in the place; she felt as comfortable in his home as a child’s hand in a children’s glove.

“How do you keep this beautiful, grand place so immaculately clean?” She could see no staff around. There had to be staff; a house this wiped down was suggestive of a helping touch.

“Rosa looks after this place, and me. She’s been with me for years, now. I told her to take the day off.”

Pang!

She walked around, feeling awkward; touching surfaces, familiarizing herself with them; shedding her inhibitions on them.

“Shall we watch a movie?” His voice made her jump.

“Uh, sure!” He needs to warm up.

He gestured for her to join him on the sofa. She sat down, a mere few inches away from him. “What do you want to watch? Here, you select the movie while I go and change out of this. Taking off his blazer, he vanished into one of the rooms down the hall.

How would I know what kind of movie to put on? Crap!

“Do you want to change into something comfortable?” He was back; she hadn’t yet figured out what to watch. And he was looking—well, not seductive, but near-about seductive, in a sky blue t-shirt and white shorts.

“Yeah, sure.”

“The room’s down that way, to the right.”

She slipped into a short dress; felt it would be appropriate. For the moment. She stepped out of the room, her hands pressed against the hem of her dress. She found him cozied up on the sofa; his head on the armrest, a throw over his legs. The TV was on but the screen was black and soundless. Upon seeing her he adjusted himself and made space for her, pulling the throw over her. And then, everything on the screen turned pink. Barbie! “It’s just out. Girls are raving about it; thought you’d like to watch.” After a few minutes, she felt his hand at the back of the sofa; she cozied closer to him, nestling in, waiting for his next move.

“Is it okay if I run my fingers in your hair?”

She nodded. Seems to be his first time. Or, he’s a smooth player.

He played with her hair; his fingers massaging her scalp. She felt relaxed, felt she could loosen up; finally open up to him.

And she fell asleep.

When she woke up, the room was quiet, and it had darkened; it was telling her, The time to sleep is now.

Her eyes looked for him; he was in the kitchen, at the other end of the room.

“I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how I fell asleep. I’m so silly. I … I wasted the day away.”

“Hey, no worries. I’m glad you rested. Now I won’t feel guilty for keeping you up till late.”

She blushed. She was warming up to him. And she needed to make up for her faux pas.

“You hungry?” The dining table had been laid. He gestured her to take a seat at the table and he got about warming the food.

“I can help you with that.”

“No, please, be seated. I want to serve you. Let me … I want to. I cooked for you, by the way.”

“But you didn’t really need to. I … uh, I don’t know what to say. Thank you! That is too sweet.” Is he for real?

“Pleasure’s all mine, believe me! I can’t tell you how many years I craved to cook for my daughter. How I craved to sit with her, eat with her, have a movie night with her; binge-watch. How I craved to spend just one whole day with her. A whole day of hers, from one morning to the next, just for me.”

*

And now, after dropping her off, he wanted to meet again. He wanted another whole day of hers.

But she had fallen in love with him.