Relapse - Part 2

Headache from the previous day’s drinking. I can feel the throbbing sensation in my temples radiating across my forehead. The alcohol must have made is way into my brain cells. I am going to die a young and horrible death.

I smell the stench of cigarettes on my fingers. Have I been smoking? I can’t remember. I am lying in an empty bed with my CK’s, comforter draped over me and the midday sun shining into my face. It’s time to get up now, lazy bum.

I hear the turn of the doorknob and the clanking of plates. He’s home. I get a quick glance of the clock beside the bed and I realise it’s a quarter past 3.

Fresh boiled prawns in lettuce, cucumber and tomato with a dressing of balsamic vinegar and thousand island sauce. I offer to slowly peel off the prawn shells for him and he gently obliges me feeding him. Bliss. I am reminded of happier days with my ex.

I gulp down the whole prawn without peeling it. I like the skeleton; It’s crunchy and has a twang to it. He prefers it skinned because he reckons the shell is nasty. I can agree by saying that the head is disgusting if you focus on the fact that some orange goo comes out of it when you squeeze against the sides of the poor prawn’s head. A goo that was once the “brain” of this not-so-intelligent crustacean.

Forks to scoop up the salad and feed one another. The sour taste of Thousand Island gives the salad a very nice kick to it, and the fresh prawns help to mediate the strong taste of vinegar and tomatoes. He’s very good with mixing different types of food together to make one big dish. He has to be; he’s studying it at TAFE level.

I’m slightly bashful when it comes to affection in living areas. I’ve never grown up in a house where affection was the norm so kissing another person in the living room is equivalent to sin sin sin. I must go for confession soon.

Two DVD’s and heaps of cashew nuts to chew on. We have amalgamated on the sofa such that we are no longer two distinguishable separate entities. Tied up in a knot of hugs, I sense a feeling I’ve not felt in many months.

The feeling of wanting to be with another person.

Tuna sandwich for dinner. Or rather, CANNED tuna sandwich. I’m pretty sure I’ll like it, there’s even a Made In Malaysia sign on the tin of tuna. Familiar food from a familiar country.

Slicing the lettuce and tomatoes, I notice how sharp his knife is. He politely says that the knife is a blunt one; he has sharper. I’m amazed at his sense of perfection when it comes to cooking. He won’t even let me flip the omelet over on the pan because apparently a spatula is a much more civilized way of cooking.

Bloody cats are still around. His housemate loves cats and he has set out to populate the house with them. They must be very hungry because they keep meow-ing at me as I feast on the fat huge sandwich that lay before me. I can tell they are jealous. I’m getting all the attention and they are being ignored. One tabby cat climbs the window sill and sends a disapproving look darting across the room to me but I take no notice of it. Come on. They’re just cats. What do they know about love and attention.

Delicious sandwich prepared with all the love it can possibly have. Over discussions about meaningless topics such as hobbies and sins-of-the-past, I find myself gently discovering more and more about this fascinating person whom I’ve known for barely a week. I slowly gain a sense of his emotions, his thoughts, his ideals, little by little.

The Witches is being aired on the telly. I can tell he’s slowly drowsing off now; he must be very tired from yesterday’s dancing. Carrying him in my arms, we climb the staircase towards his bedroom and he lights a candle to illuminate the room. Playing soft relaxing music from his computer, I am lulled back into that dreamy world I was in not too long ago the previous day…

He falls asleep on my shoulder and I find myself kissing his forehead spontaneously.

I could get used to this.