LJ Idol Week 6 Entry

I was never the one to claim anything I desired as a basic right of mine. Part of me sometimes wished I was like those women in the movies, with black hair and red lipstick who were depicted as beautiful splinters broken off from the mountain of evil. They never got no as an answer and they never felt bad because of all the people they made burst out into tears. One of them being the pristine blonde in the blue dress.

I felt bad, more than often because of more harmless things. When I got a “No”, I accepted it.

I accepted when Brad told me he would not dine with me on my birthday because of some family emergency. I was sad, yes, I was and part of me was furious, too, but I practised acceptance, because I had no right to claim Brad SHOULD be there. Because he was someone else's husband. Never thought I could do that anyway. We met like you meet in daily life, in a cafe where I tripped over the power cord of his laptop, which almost made his 2000 Dollar Mac hit the stone floor of this vintage hipster place. Not only was I stuck in the nowhere between black and white queen, I was also a bit clumsy with expensive things.

After he saw that nothing was damaged at all (Relief), he invited me and my blushed face to sit down and have a coffee with him.

Soon after, I learned that he was married and that his kisses were the right mixture of rough and soft. In my mind, I pictured his wife like a poisonous creature with hair consisting of purple snakes and a double voice which came from a mouth filled with sharp teeth. He did not tell much, but whatever he told me made this picture of her become more vivid. The other part was added by my secret desire to have him leave her and move in with me.

What if on that day the Roger’s, my favourite restaurant, had not been closed due to a family emergency? What if my friend Mary had not been ill, too and would have encouraged me to go to the movies and for some drinks?

Then, I would not have had the spontaneous urge to walk into the Milagros in 7th Street, a place I could not afford. I wanted something I had never tried. Or a Martini. Or both. A burger sprinkled with exquisite truffles. When the receptionist asked me if I was alone, I looked around the room and I saw him. My heart seemed to stop for a second when I realized it was Brad. With a woman sitting at the most exposed table, laughing, holding hands and even exchanging a kiss.

I walked mechanically, following the waiter to my table, near enough to them so I could hear the waiter asking “Anything else, Mrs. Croydon? Mr. Croydon?”

No snake hair, I thought, and a beautiful smile, so beautiful it brought a pain to the left side of my body.

And then, there was this part of me, that was closer to the black queen and her red lipstick. This part made me get up and follow her to the bathroom, and made me leave the stall just at the same time she was ready to wash her hands and repaint her lips.

I smiled, she smiled back and I heard myself saying how beautiful this restaurant was, especially for a nice candle light dinner as a couple. She looked down when I told her that I would not come with my husband anymore since he had cheated on me with some blond assistant lawyer from his firm (How did I make this up? I don’t know, I never had a husband, let alone a cheating one.) Then I said some nice things that made her blush and probably thing I was trying to flirt with her until she wished me a nice evening and hurriedly left the bathroom. I went back to the table, emptied the glass of wine I had ordered, paid and tipped a large sum at the counter before I left.

At night I got a message from Brad: “Was this you? What is this about you recently?”

I deleted the message. I was further from white than I thought.