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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3641 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Tuesday Afternoons lia (E V Brooks) The plane leaves for Singapore tonight at 8:45 -- I will be on it. We spend the afternoon at a small table sipping from black cups on the pavement of Knightsbridge. Coffee rides up over the heads of the swarm tugging the street. Our meeting place for four years. Every Tuesday. We knew she was pulling weights, treating her skin to saunas and mudpacks, a massage from some tanned fitness fanatic- hands guiding oil over her limbs then a bit of fun in the private suite. We haven’t been any better-- Twisting to the bass of that perfect song on a wet Tuesday afternoon, three and half years ago-- morals discarded on the walkway. The clashing of swords in a dark grey sky outside the window. The apartment is sold. A high flying business woman nodded at the view from the balcony. The granite and steel kitchen clinched the deal. “Absolutely wonderful darling!” So we have no where to go. Relief is intense. Shock at the other side of the table twists deep on pallid skin. What of promises? What about marriage, children-- A small house somewhere south, under beech trees where a lake kisses the heels of the glen? Always waiting for a good time, a right time to tell her gently. Always waiting… I tip the waitress-- The best coffee these four years. Strong and rich with the softest vanilla wisps tangled in heady darkness. I remain behind black glasses, leave words reflecting from the table- trapped amongst sunlight and head for Piccadilly and the branches of the Underground that travel far beneath my feet. |
