There are a number of questions have been clumping in my chest. Just as they were about to explode, like a balloon flooded by the air.
First, if your partner was just silent when she knew you have lied to her. You should ask, "Is she silent because she does not want a fuss or she's not concerned about anything?" I wish you digest this question, even though you do not have time to use your heart. Perhaps your heart has withered, dried up like a forgotten mop lifted from the clothesline.
Second, "Do you understand that she lost her smile because every day she just found a quiet dinning table?" There's no conversation in the morning.
She's silent because you love the tangled political traffic more, conspiracy between the parties or between gangs that makes you so closely in loving your associations, and you forget your primary partnership, once you give her the label "Soul Mate".
Third, "Do you know that she's hit by a high level of boredom?" She's bored with the routine and hairdressing and jewelery weighing on her body, she misses the simple things like the clinking of plates, spoons, and soft of heart conversations between the faint sound of piano.
Fourth, "Do you know that she finds another strong shoulders even though he does not sparkle like you?" His shoulders are not winged, not like your arms which are able to fly around the world in seven days. His shoulders are always there when she needs them, he who bows respectfully when you're between them, who smiles so politely as if you can drop his head in your shiny floor? Shoulders of a man that you pay $ 1,000 per month to teach her to sketch, playing the piano, foreign languages, and all non-physical needs that you can't give.
Fifth, "Do you remember you had grabbed her hair one night, while you put your hands on her back and you said, "You seem smart, but actually you're stupid! A man like him does not have anything except the cleverness to lure women with piano or cheap sketch of his dry and dusty hands?"
"Do you remember how she bits her lip to bleed after you slam her body?" She just looked at your face with hollow gaze. Her expression vanished along the drops of your bubbling sweat. Since then you've lost her. For God's sake, you have made a big mistake that night. She is your wife, Zef. You marry her with a sacred promise of marriage. So, if you hurt her, or you ignore her for a few months, she should divorce you. Is that right, Zef? Now she has become a zombie, you have scored her in such a way. She is your wife, Zef. She is me.
ENNE
I am writing this note because I miss you, Zef. This is not the pleading of what I did last night or the night before. Sometimes I'm so crazy, and I do not think its risks. Incidentally I'm happy, and I want to preach to you. I think you'll be happy to see me happy. At least, I will be busy and forget for a moment.
Zef, now I know what to choose. Actually, last night I was sad when you thought I purposely led you both in contention. Really, I was not that bad. But, I chose not to be sad, and I succeeded. I woke up in the morning with a smile, after I found it difficult to sleep and I kept thinking about you. Yes, I chose to sleep well and did not think of you both. I succeeded. I know what it means to choose and love myself.
Zef, it's true I love you. True, I do not want you to go. That's right I want to spend the rest of my life with you and be your wife, your mistress, your secret lovers, or whatever it's called, as long as I can be with you, always. But that does not mean I would then want to be a weak woman in front of you. I would say "No" for "No". I would say "Yes" for "Yes". I will not let you tie my feeling of freedom, judging my thoughts and feelings. I never judge what you feel, what you think. I let you free Zef, like so far I never sue you.
With love, I am waiting for you, Zef. Waiting for you to miss me back. Sorry, I actually hate to linger not see you like this. I just want to know that you still miss me. And you'll see me again, even though your wife knows. Meet me or I'm going crazy because of you, and you'll never know what craziness will I do to you both.
VIE
I'm sorry, Ceez. I have to be honest with you. I've seen all your heart even though you never say anything to me. You have your own way to remove or hide the facts, perhaps even your mood. But as a man -- although the ranging in age between us is not exactly short -- I can read every movement of your body, your breathing, your eyelids flutter as well. You need help.
From the beginning I do not want to get involved in your problem. It is a standard operating of a private tutor for foreign language teaching, playing the piano, or sketching, the three things you're passionate about. I'm a teacher. My professionalism is not measured by money, but value. I am judged by the extent to which my students succeed in absorbing the knowledge. Of course I rejoice when your husband pay me with quite bombastic number. For him, money is only a matter of frivolous, easy as snapping his fingers, money will run to follow him.
Ceez, but for a teacher, money is not a mask to cover his eyes from anything that can be captured from both of his eyelids. My heart thundered, as if the room was about to collapse when you sit alone in the large dining room. You listened to our piano recordings, our lessons in the last week.
At that time we played "What a Wonderful World". You said that song just made me even more humiliated, but you did not explain your intent, and I did not want to force you to tell the story. In a deserted mansion, you sit alone like a Silence Goddess. You offered me a meal, I could not avoid you. It was not eating what you needed, but a friend to talk, and simple sound of cutlery. Talking about the weather, television programs, traffic congestion, rising food prices, or the gossip of celebrities. On that day there was no course of anything, we just talked, brewing the coffee and we looked at each other. As usual, you were always excited and looked okay under any circumstances. But from the way you smiled and blinked, from the way you ate, chewing, blinking, I knew. You needed a friend. You did not need a private tutor. It was just a camouflage for killing time. You're trying to follow the nest of a psychologist, somebody you paid expensive due to your depression in layers: lonely, a lot of money, no friends, abandoned by a partner to be with other women. So, I changed my way to receive your phone calls. Before, with due respect I would say, "Good morning, Ma'am." But since then I said, "Hey." Simple, was not it?
You liked playing a tone, friendly and familiar. You melted, the mist in your eyes would go. Cloudy in your smile would fall, turning into spring. Nothing is more heavenly for someone other than realizing the presence of other is the oasis for other. You do realize it or not? I am an oasis for you.
I'm happy when you're no longer waiting for your husband to go home. He is a public official, you say. His presence is needed everywhere. The ministers need him, party leaders, constituents, and even the president. He is a great man. His face often appears in the newspaper. He deserves to be busy, and will not have time to domestic affairs. All he need is a formality, ceremonial, inauguration-opening. Along with your consciousness --- I do not know, it is the truth or are you just trying to budge --- you start to release the desire to be accompanied by your husband. "He's more needed by others than his wife," you said. You live with your world now. Ceez, I am initially excited by it all. I am an oasis for you and Zef is a perfect cash machine. But when you're silent in front of the piano with your hair neat and your sparkling party dress, I smell the stench of death. It has been a long time you did not cry. Your eyes never swelled again. At that time you just said, "We, we are already caught."
I'm sorry, Ceez. I know, Enne is not the only woman in his circle today. There are also Rien, Sue, and Mer. But Enne is the one that you know because you believe in her. That's what I tried to explain it to you, but you shut your ears. You're just afraid, or ashamed of having a heart free of a common class like me? No, Ceez, I'm a man. What I have to do is to confront him. Challenging him. Inviting him to choose, who is more worthy of us to have you completely.
A Heckler & Koch caliber 45 erupted. Silencer makes its voice less heard by anyone around the big house. A man collapsed on the marble floor. Red stain wetting the carpet. "There is no excuse for an intruder, man!" Zef said.
*****
First, if your partner was just silent when she knew you have lied to her. You should ask, "Is she silent because she does not want a fuss or she's not concerned about anything?" I wish you digest this question, even though you do not have time to use your heart. Perhaps your heart has withered, dried up like a forgotten mop lifted from the clothesline.
Second, "Do you understand that she lost her smile because every day she just found a quiet dinning table?" There's no conversation in the morning.
She's silent because you love the tangled political traffic more, conspiracy between the parties or between gangs that makes you so closely in loving your associations, and you forget your primary partnership, once you give her the label "Soul Mate".
Third, "Do you know that she's hit by a high level of boredom?" She's bored with the routine and hairdressing and jewelery weighing on her body, she misses the simple things like the clinking of plates, spoons, and soft of heart conversations between the faint sound of piano.
Fourth, "Do you know that she finds another strong shoulders even though he does not sparkle like you?" His shoulders are not winged, not like your arms which are able to fly around the world in seven days. His shoulders are always there when she needs them, he who bows respectfully when you're between them, who smiles so politely as if you can drop his head in your shiny floor? Shoulders of a man that you pay $ 1,000 per month to teach her to sketch, playing the piano, foreign languages, and all non-physical needs that you can't give.
Fifth, "Do you remember you had grabbed her hair one night, while you put your hands on her back and you said, "You seem smart, but actually you're stupid! A man like him does not have anything except the cleverness to lure women with piano or cheap sketch of his dry and dusty hands?"
"Do you remember how she bits her lip to bleed after you slam her body?" She just looked at your face with hollow gaze. Her expression vanished along the drops of your bubbling sweat. Since then you've lost her. For God's sake, you have made a big mistake that night. She is your wife, Zef. You marry her with a sacred promise of marriage. So, if you hurt her, or you ignore her for a few months, she should divorce you. Is that right, Zef? Now she has become a zombie, you have scored her in such a way. She is your wife, Zef. She is me.
ENNE
I am writing this note because I miss you, Zef. This is not the pleading of what I did last night or the night before. Sometimes I'm so crazy, and I do not think its risks. Incidentally I'm happy, and I want to preach to you. I think you'll be happy to see me happy. At least, I will be busy and forget for a moment.
Zef, now I know what to choose. Actually, last night I was sad when you thought I purposely led you both in contention. Really, I was not that bad. But, I chose not to be sad, and I succeeded. I woke up in the morning with a smile, after I found it difficult to sleep and I kept thinking about you. Yes, I chose to sleep well and did not think of you both. I succeeded. I know what it means to choose and love myself.
Zef, it's true I love you. True, I do not want you to go. That's right I want to spend the rest of my life with you and be your wife, your mistress, your secret lovers, or whatever it's called, as long as I can be with you, always. But that does not mean I would then want to be a weak woman in front of you. I would say "No" for "No". I would say "Yes" for "Yes". I will not let you tie my feeling of freedom, judging my thoughts and feelings. I never judge what you feel, what you think. I let you free Zef, like so far I never sue you.
With love, I am waiting for you, Zef. Waiting for you to miss me back. Sorry, I actually hate to linger not see you like this. I just want to know that you still miss me. And you'll see me again, even though your wife knows. Meet me or I'm going crazy because of you, and you'll never know what craziness will I do to you both.
VIE
I'm sorry, Ceez. I have to be honest with you. I've seen all your heart even though you never say anything to me. You have your own way to remove or hide the facts, perhaps even your mood. But as a man -- although the ranging in age between us is not exactly short -- I can read every movement of your body, your breathing, your eyelids flutter as well. You need help.
From the beginning I do not want to get involved in your problem. It is a standard operating of a private tutor for foreign language teaching, playing the piano, or sketching, the three things you're passionate about. I'm a teacher. My professionalism is not measured by money, but value. I am judged by the extent to which my students succeed in absorbing the knowledge. Of course I rejoice when your husband pay me with quite bombastic number. For him, money is only a matter of frivolous, easy as snapping his fingers, money will run to follow him.
Ceez, but for a teacher, money is not a mask to cover his eyes from anything that can be captured from both of his eyelids. My heart thundered, as if the room was about to collapse when you sit alone in the large dining room. You listened to our piano recordings, our lessons in the last week.
At that time we played "What a Wonderful World". You said that song just made me even more humiliated, but you did not explain your intent, and I did not want to force you to tell the story. In a deserted mansion, you sit alone like a Silence Goddess. You offered me a meal, I could not avoid you. It was not eating what you needed, but a friend to talk, and simple sound of cutlery. Talking about the weather, television programs, traffic congestion, rising food prices, or the gossip of celebrities. On that day there was no course of anything, we just talked, brewing the coffee and we looked at each other. As usual, you were always excited and looked okay under any circumstances. But from the way you smiled and blinked, from the way you ate, chewing, blinking, I knew. You needed a friend. You did not need a private tutor. It was just a camouflage for killing time. You're trying to follow the nest of a psychologist, somebody you paid expensive due to your depression in layers: lonely, a lot of money, no friends, abandoned by a partner to be with other women. So, I changed my way to receive your phone calls. Before, with due respect I would say, "Good morning, Ma'am." But since then I said, "Hey." Simple, was not it?
You liked playing a tone, friendly and familiar. You melted, the mist in your eyes would go. Cloudy in your smile would fall, turning into spring. Nothing is more heavenly for someone other than realizing the presence of other is the oasis for other. You do realize it or not? I am an oasis for you.
I'm happy when you're no longer waiting for your husband to go home. He is a public official, you say. His presence is needed everywhere. The ministers need him, party leaders, constituents, and even the president. He is a great man. His face often appears in the newspaper. He deserves to be busy, and will not have time to domestic affairs. All he need is a formality, ceremonial, inauguration-opening. Along with your consciousness --- I do not know, it is the truth or are you just trying to budge --- you start to release the desire to be accompanied by your husband. "He's more needed by others than his wife," you said. You live with your world now. Ceez, I am initially excited by it all. I am an oasis for you and Zef is a perfect cash machine. But when you're silent in front of the piano with your hair neat and your sparkling party dress, I smell the stench of death. It has been a long time you did not cry. Your eyes never swelled again. At that time you just said, "We, we are already caught."
I'm sorry, Ceez. I know, Enne is not the only woman in his circle today. There are also Rien, Sue, and Mer. But Enne is the one that you know because you believe in her. That's what I tried to explain it to you, but you shut your ears. You're just afraid, or ashamed of having a heart free of a common class like me? No, Ceez, I'm a man. What I have to do is to confront him. Challenging him. Inviting him to choose, who is more worthy of us to have you completely.
A Heckler & Koch caliber 45 erupted. Silencer makes its voice less heard by anyone around the big house. A man collapsed on the marble floor. Red stain wetting the carpet. "There is no excuse for an intruder, man!" Zef said.
*****
(CZ-Lacalifusa 042113 - A fictional story for a lasting sweet memories and beloved fiance.)
No comments:
Post a Comment