Memory Lane

I hopped in the back seat of the car, sat at a corner, rigid with tension. His back and side views were all I could catch. We got down the car, walking side by side down the slope. His arm enfolded my shoulder and that was our first encounter. Down at Bamboo Hut, I was engrossed with my 8-inches pizza. He stretched forth a piece of meat ball and fed me in the most chivalrous dash. It was cherubic. My mind was running the sentiments if that was how angelic this friendship would grow. It snapped me that moment, this is going to be a life changing experience.

Deey treaded the brake just outside the front porch. We unloaded the baggage and a box of Big Apple donuts. Back in the room, I was baffled with the mess created by the technician who came to pipe the aircond earlier on. As I dazed, his tough built paced an inch closer. So close, I could hear the cottony rustle of his shirt as he breathed. He had his arms wrapped around me like the embrace I'd been looking forward to since the day he promised me one. He caressed my stomach. It was true that part of me likes this man a lot. Part of me found him interesting. Part of me was tempted to blurt out all the sweet things I'd noticed about him since we met. Perhaps if I wasn't an individual who chose the quiet, all-to-myself path, I would have done. Our gazes fixed, those eyes were addictive and all I realized subsequently was our lips met and tongue plaited. I never felt any better than this, virtual kisses were never comparable. Heavenly, I called it. 

"I'll do it for you." he offered like a nobleman. "No worries. I can do it!". "Be careful ok!" as he watched me doing it. I mounted the stool, reaching out to the panel, 15 feet from the ground. Tiptoed with an arched back, still I failed to drape the curtain. I turned around and looked at him with a pair of pleading eyes. At that instance, he caught hold of me, hooked my arms around his neck, legs around his waist, smiled and carried me down. He repeated my actions. Mounted the stool, reached out to the panel, tiptoed with an arched back and draped the curtain. The advantage for being 15cms taller than me. I was lucky to have him around.  

The conversation I vaguely retrieved from that night was when I randomly questioned, "Why is there a box of donuts?". "I thought you like them?". The casual reply I received in return. Soft giggles fenced in, he remembered my likings after all and then presented a box that contained a donut arm-rest before me, followed by two crafty origamies he folded with the bank notes into the shape of a pig. That was again a promise he fulfilled. They caught me in a mixed spirit of love, joy and appreciation. His thoughtfulness tickled my heart right then. We laid flirtatiously in bed. He demanded for a reward, seven kisses were what he asked for. Six for a half a dozen donuts and one more for the donut arm rest. Blushed, I snog it in a staccato manner all around the face. Later that night, we were entwined under warm sheets in a room highlighted with the orange hue reflected from the lamp, exchanged giggles like the soft talk of secret sex. So very, very tempting and it lies there. To get to the meringue-covered climax, several potential obstacles arose. Tender in his embrace, I fell asleep unknowingly till the skies turn light blue. If only that night had lasted forever. 

The morning sun was bright. Its rays lustrously illuminated the dimmed space I lived in. I was seated on his lap, idling away time while he searched for a talk show to keep us entertained. I grabbed the box of donuts and picked up a piece from the variety, of our choices. Fed him a mouthful while we shared the luscious sweetness. Halfway through the feeding I exclaimed, "I don't like cream. Will you take this?" He took a big bite off the chunk of cream and had the leftover stuffed back into my mouth from his. An enigmatic divine, a clandestine gesture of seduction and an undisclosed desire in our hearts were all obliged within the stuffing. "Donut-kiss?" I asked with an utmost expression of a philanderer, like I'd had many. A donut would never have tasted as good as that ever since. I love this man whom I dallied with. 

"More pepper. It'll taste nicer." as he sprinkled the second sachet on the fries and offered it before my eyes in a flaunting action. We were at McD. I settled closer to catch the fries, he drew off his hand. I grinned and pouted. Flaunting it again, he tried pleasing, "Come, I won't do anything.". "Don't want!". I glanced up, feigning dander. "Come, it's really nice." he persuaded. I inclined forward as he dropped the fries into my mouth. I nodded. It was good. We both laughed. That was when I started the habit of taking extra pepper every time I buy a meal from McD. I never had fries without pepper since then. 

That afternoon, we decided to watch Percy Jackson And The Lightning Thief at a cinema. We walked down the isle of an empty theater. There were only us. He would turn to every loud trampling footstep of the audiences when they entered. One after another. Clumpy. Uneven. They filled the theater. It was cold in the dark room. I was donning his hoodie, my hands safe and snug in the pockets. It wasn't long before the giant screen came into motion pictures. I retreated my right hand from the pocket and tucked it under his left arm, securing a position for myself, he gestured a little to the left as a signal of permit. My head comfortably resting on his broad shoulder, wondering when is the next time we'll be doing this again. When the movie was still going on, his hand arrested mine assuming the woven-fingers style, our fingers curled down around the hand of each other. He turned around and gazed right into my eyes. "Why are you holding my hand?" he uttered. "What??!" I articulated with a frown followed by a grin and withdrew my hand from that entanglement. He took hold of my hand again and repeated the same before he finally secured my hand under his custody. It was never quite the same everytime I look at my hand because the spaces between my fingers were right where his fit perfectly. 

He is never quite a guy who loves shopping like I do. We were strolling in the mall, hovered by a deadly silence, it sent a chill down my spine. That place was deadly like we were the only souls left. We spent some time meandering around, hunting for a birthday gift meant for a friend. Our hands nudged against each others incidentally at some instances. I slipped a hand through his underarm and another clutching tightly to his biceps like we were doing the wedding march of a father and daughter on a red carpet. Once in a while, he would turn to me and reprimand sternly, "Can you walk properly, like a lady!". I stared right into his eyes and saw my own most innocent reflection portrayed from his pupil for sympathy. With a subtle cuddle, he coaxed me back. 

Soft whispers. "You ok?" I checked at every fragmented interval whenever he took a sip from the half emptied pint of brewed beer. "Ya. Don't rape me tonight". "Fat hope!" He looked fuddled, blushed red like a beetroot, I would understand how the alcohol flush reaction worked. I had the same reaction every time I was indulged with alcohol. Hidden in the genes were the amino acids that encode the enzyme of missense polymorphism, they named it the Acetyledehyde dehydrogenase. I crossed seat to his left and had a good conversation with the babe while she teased me for looking good that night. He was busy with the catch up talk with some friends. Our hands nudged, 90 degrees from the alignment and fingers wrapped around, practising the negligible flirt. I was a little abash cum awkward in public, my skin blushed like I had a shot of alcohol too. That was at a senior's party. 

I was out from a shower and found him lying there in a stilled soldier position, tired and motionless. I sat by the bed, my hand brushed across his neatly spiked hair and he was awakened. "Are you alright?". "My skin is burning and paining." He unbuttoned the shirt to show me how hyperemic it'd become, especialy the back and inguen region. The alcohol rash which was surfacing made me a tad anxious. There was something about it that sent prickles of worrisome belief zizzing down my spine. He would probably be in pain by tomorrow. "Would you like a cold compress? I'll get you some ice". He nodded. I returned with a few small blocks of ice wrapped in a towel and applied mellowly with light pressure over the skin. I frowned up at the ceiling where spotlights were flickering. He bracketed my face, opened his eyes as if the pain was eased and looked up at me, a half smile curving in his mouth. "It's enough. Thanks.". "Feeling any better?". 'Yeah, much better.' My anxiousness was relieved that night. 

He came back from a brunch date with his best mate. We had a lunch appointment with a couple, scheduled to be at one. He was feeling sick right after the return, we had to cancel every itinerary for that afternoon. Frantic look in his eyes. It wasn't long before he fell asleep, curled up like fetus on the bed. That's his favorite position, I noticed. I'd heard much about the nexus between sleeping position and personality, but I wonder how true can that be. Reclining to the fetal position impersonates that these sleepers present tough exterior to the world, yet their true colors are shy and sensitive. It left me ponder for a minute. I have so much to know about him to come to a conclusion. The itch kept him in a sleep-wake cycle. My heart grew concerned about him, called into question if he would be fine. Finally, he was awake, his eyes brightened. We lazed on the bed, doing some thinking and rescheduling our plans for the day to prevent bedsores while I succour the itch on his back with a bit of a rub. He appreciated. We hugged and kissed. 

He drove down the street and parked right in front of the convenience store. "Seven eleven!!" I squalled. "What Seven-Eleven?". "Nothing!". We broke into giggles and understood each other. Back in the room, our body languages were substantial and got hovered by naughty pre-thoughts, we joked about purchasing condoms, just to be safe. Doctors aren't saints, that's true. He walked into the bank to withdraw some money. We passed the store, I stopped at the corridor, took a glance at the brochure stuck on its front door. "What are you looking at?". "Good bargains of course. What do you think I was looking at?" We laughed and got into the car. Before he started the engine, "You really want to get it?". "What??! Urh.. it's your choice. You want, you get it." He lifted the latch, pushed the car door opened and paused for a second. "I think we'll only do it when we're stable, ok?" brushing my hair gently. "Of course!" with a frown, I replied. That was how I trusted him. 

I brought him to my favorite cake shop, the infamous Nadaje. On the table were my favorite Strawberry Mille Crepe, the pasta he ordered and our drinks. We shared food. Such a lazy afternoon was good enough to just chill out and do nothing else. We were sitting by the glass pane in front of the counter, every walk-in customer caught our attention. I pointed to him those girls whom I found in my humble opinion were pretty, he disagreed. One of the many differences we have. I think it's elegant to carry stuff that have an element of gold color in it, he thinks they look old. I like shopping, he prefers football. He's a social butterfly, I enjoy quiet time alone. We had a glorious afternoon chatting, agreeing and disagreeing about stuff, only to get to know each other better. 

"Why are you lying here? You should be studying. You have an exam.". Snorted."It's my habit. I like studying in bed. Please?". "Okay. I'm going to sleep while you study. Ask me if you don't know anything". "Alright!" Silence. "They said there's a question on acute abdomen. What do you think?". "Tell me about acute pancreatitis. What are the clinical features?" I hesitated a moment, my mind screening through the list of facts I remembered. I listed a few. "What else?". "Ya, what else huh?". "You tell me larh!! Ish.. You are the one who's taking the exam." Next. "What are the etiologies?". "Oh, I know! Scorpion bite!" "What??!!" His eyes widened in disbelieve. "Omigosh!! Who taught you that?" He threw me the most stupefied grimace, shaking his head and sighed. Still trying to defend myself, "But I read it somewhere?". "Okay, listen. This is how I remember them. A's for Alcohol. B's for biliary tract diseases. C's for..........." And the list went on as he counted those he's named with his fingers. He sounded like a man with knowledge. There we were, debating and discussing about acute pancreatitis, starting from its etiology down to its management. Then there were hypersplenism, hepatomegaly, splenomegaly, acute urinary retention etc. It was a great relief I learnt something that evening, my attention were all diverted and stunned at his vast knowledge. Instead of being a walking Bailey & Love, like I always nicknamed him, he became a walking Shenoy. I could text him anytime of the day for a snappy answer, much more convenient than flipping the through the references or searching for it on my HTC. He'd never disappoint me so far. 

He took a left turn into the college. We were there to pick up Jaemie for dinner, his friend from the same hometown. He asserted to find his way to the bak kut teh shop he saw somewhere near the hypermarket. I directed him there without much confidence for I wasn't sure of the road either. "I don't remember passing by here." "Oh, then we'll turn back. Do a U-turn at the junction." He did like how I directed. "Hey, I think it's that road just now!" "HUH??!" Both Jaemie and I gaped widely, we were teasing him, he guarded the embarassment with reasons like a poor night vision. He looked through the phonebook for Ian's girlfriend, pressed the dial button and passed me the phone when the call was connected. Ian's his elder brother and his girlfriend's a local in this town. She directed me to the same place where Dex suggested. We had a good dinner together, craking jokes and laughters, he'd make sure I eat nicely. Pivoting the chopstick, he picked up the food at frequent interim and dropped them on my plate. My heart warmed by these little caring acts. 

"Let's go to the fun fair!". "You serious?". "Do I sound like I was joking?". "Ok..." Being forced by my whimsical demand this time, he drove in to the parking lot. "I think they are mostly children on the rides," Jaemie sounded. "How?". "Let's leave!". Then there was the river cruise we disputed whether or not to go. "You really want to go?" I nodded miserably. We missed the turning while he was still doubting my earnestness. He thought it was a pun, I thought he wasn't serious, only to realize, he'd love to bring me there if he'd known it wasn't a joke. My regret turned into a contentment when he promised to being me there the next time he returns. 

The digital clock showed 10.30pm on the cellphone. He needed a nap, I knew it. That was the only way to hive off his restlessness due to the rashes that troubled him the entire day, at least to restrain him from scratching. "Wake me up an hour later. I need to pack." Of multiple attempts trying to arouse the NREM stage of a catnap, he mumbled at every effort and passively resignated to somnolence. Those syllables were arduous to grasp like a babble of a baby, so incoherent, I wondered if that was somniloquy. 12.30am on the cellphone. He was still soundly asleep. I could worry no more about the unpacked luggage, attended to the pile of clothes, folded and neatly stacked them up. Somehow an Obssessive Compulsive Disorder to unfinished business. The discharged handphone was a distress, I plugged in the courser and allow the currant to run in completion. 1.00am. I nestled on his chest, broad and robust. The cold and airy space we were in sent a tingle of quiver, I drew the blankets up to the base of our necks, laid warm and fell asleep. 2.30am. "You helped me pack already?" I was awaken by the soft whisper into my ear. "Yeah. You wouldn't wake up.". "Really? Thanks!" A kiss was planted on my cheek. He got up for shower. When he returned, "You packed everything?". "I tried. Anything that I could. I charged your phone too.". "My phone too? Yeayy!! Means I don't have to pack already! Thank you!!". "Yeah. You just have to arrange everything into your suitcase." The pair of charming eyes glowed and the delighted smile on his face pandered my heart as he gleefully held me close to him with a tight embrace and smooched my lips. "Thank you! Let's go to sleep!" Again. We dived back into bed. He is curled on his side, his back to me and I'm curled around him, facing his back. He liked me doing this, but never knew I was feeling nostalgia that night, my eyes rimmed with tears of melancholy. Grubby tears tracked down the scarlet cheeks. If only he'd turned for a glance. That was was our last night together. 

Memories, oh but they are fading each day. I could no longer pick them up like the clear colorless quartz of a pebbled road. Lots of things are hazy now and I'm so in danger of forgetting him. I had simply forgotten to keep him at the fringes of my mind.