With a Flick of the Wrist

Can you believe that I can’t tell time?

It’s not for lack of trying. It must be a block, some kind of mental block that’s just keeping me from understanding. I look at the hands, the little hand and the big. I look at the numbers (but sometimes there are no numbers! Sometimes there are just those frustrating little lines, or even worse roman numerals!) I stare at those numbers, I will those numbers to speak to me to tell me what time is it! 

But instead of recognition, instead of me saying “Ah! It’s 10 past 7!” instead of me saying “Oh no I might be late!” I simply see the clock face melting like a pathetic Dali on my wrist. 

So, naturally, I wind up glancing at my phone. Who needs to tell time anymore, really? My phone tells me the time. 

Regardless of my own shortcomings,I bought him this watch. I won’t say the brand. The brand doesn’t matter, but I will say it was expensive. Man, if you only knew how expensive this collection of cogs and hands and numbers was! Your jaw would drop to the floor, you can bet that! I will say it was more money than I had to spend. I will say that that charge won’t be erased from my credit card anytime soon. 

But I bought it because he takes such pride in his watches. He has such a collection, and he matches them with the cufflinks on his suits. He always looks so handsome when he comes to me after work. That’s when I love him the most. I love him when he smells like a full days work; not fresh out of the shower. I love him when I can smell his entire day; all of the cigarettes he dragged, the sips of coffee he took, the lingering scent of his cologne that was barely hiding body odor. I loved that scent because that scent was him. 

And he would sit on my bed, and take off his shoes. He would groan about work, what a day it was. And then he would carefully remove his watch, place it on the nightstand. He had a diligence about everything, a carefully laid routine. 

So when his birthday came, I knew I had to do something special. So I spent hours researching, poring over reviews until finally I got him the perfect watch.

I wrapped it carefully, tied it with a ribbon. When he came over, I had a cake on the table. (Oh you bet I made it special!) But I will say that I was disappointed at his reaction to the streamers I had hung, to the card and the box on the table. He saw it and he smiled, but the smile was thin and somewhat forced. After a pause he said “Oh dear, you shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

But I didn’t let his lack of enthusiasm discourage me, no sirree I did not! I ran to him, I kissed him, I grabbed him playfully. He grabbed me by the waist firmly, and then his hands began to search my body, “This would have been enough.” He said

I disentangled myself from him and smirked. “But wait!” I said, “Just wait, you’re going to love it!” I grabbed him by the hand and led him to the table, forced him to sit. I jammed the present into his hand.

He looked at it warily. “Babe you really didn’t—”

“Shhhh…” I said, placing a finger over his lips. “Open it!”

So he did, and I don’t have to tell you the look of shock that crossed his face! (I told you, it was a damn expensive watch!) He carefully opened the lid of the box, and I saw his fingers tremble just a bit. He removed the watch from it’s little shelf and slid the cool metal over his fingers. He then removed the watch he was wearing and placed his new one (my one!) on his wrist, not even bothering to set the proper time.

“This,” he said, his mouth truly hanging open, “This is too much. You shouldn’t have done this.”

I looked down at my feet and smirked, then kissed him. “You deserve it.”

He kissed me back, ravenous. I don’t have to tell you what happened next, no I sure don’t.

We ate cake for dinner later, in bed, while watching television. It was such a perfect evening, that I hated to see him go. But I saw that watch on his wrist as he opened the door and felt so warm inside. I was part of him now; I would be his most prized possession!

I slept so well that night, knowing that I had gotten him the most perfect present. I dreamt of him going to the office, showing it off. No one he worked with owned a watch that expensive, I was sure of it. 

So you could imagine my surprise when he came the next evening and he wasn’t wearing that watch at all. Why, he was wearing one of his regular watches, one that I had seen several times. I know he saw me glance at his wrist, but he didn’t say anything, so I didn’t either. 

The next day he didn’t wear it.

And the next day.

And the next day.

As a matter of fact, almost a month went by and that watch failed to accent his wrist again. Neither of us said anything about it, but boy, I’ll tell you it burned me. It ate at me. And the day my credit card statement came in, and I made my first payment, I felt like my very insides were being torn apart at the thought of that watch sitting somewhere, anywhere, other than his wrist. 

So when he came home that night, I sat on the bed, and responded stiffly to his advances. My body was rigid, unyielding, and he felt it immediately. He sat up. “What’s wrong?”

I stared at the watch that was sitting on the night stand. An expensive watch, sure, but not like the one I bought him. I then turned my gaze back to him. I didn’t have to ask him.

He sighed, and rubbed sweat from his upper lip. I didn’t have air conditioning in my apartment, and he often complained about it, but tonight I suppose he didn’t think that was in his best interest. He looked at me. “What do you want me to say?”

I didn’t respond. I just glared at the watch on the nightstand again, then back at him.

He tapped his fingers on his pants, then shook his head. “How was I supposed to explain that? Huh? How was I supposed to explain where I got a watch like that?”

He got up and went to the fridge where he cracked open a beer. He drank from it for a long time before coming up for air. “You knew what you were doing, getting me a watch like that,” he said.

He came back to the bed. He kissed my neck and I let him. What else could I do? He proceeded to unbutton my shirt, and I let him. I let him do it all, because he was right. 

I had known what I was doing. 

Next time, I would have to be careful not to be so obvious.

As he continued, I wondered how I could persuade him to give me the watch back.

I mean, it was a really expensive watch.