I saw the man in the black uniform trying to put his glasses on at an angle…trying once, twice and finally on the third try he gets it right and his spectacles or glasses as the Americans call it, were rightly positioned over top of where the bridge of his nose. His nose arched and rose up from his face, with huge nostrils you’d imagine could smell even the slightest whiff.
He thought of what his wife may have cooked for dinner or whether they would have take away like the night before. He hated eating out. He felt it was better his wife murdered him than have him eat all that saturated and hydrogenated fat…He wondered whether he would die of a heart attack like his father and his grandfather before him…Why is she not concerned for my health he wondered? Does she hate me so much to desire my death? She’s lazy…the spawn of the devil – sloth.
He was lazy too. He had gotten too comfortable in the Play de Les miserables that his life had become. She promised him a lot when they first got together – she would bear his children, cook, clean do everything for him…She had big dreams for him, dreams for their beautiful family – luxury, comfort and travels to far and exotic places.He never could make those dreams come true and soon a curtain of gloom dropped on their life…Act II, Scene Apathy.
He got home and his wife was ordering takeaway…again.
“Do you have change for the tip?” his wife asked. Her tone nonchalant.
“Sure,” he said.
He went in to freshen up until the delivery guy came in.
When his manager called him up he said he was at lunch when he was infact, meeting with a client for business. He was unsure about the outcome of his meeting and didnt want to be badgered by the ‘big man’ at office. ” So where do I sign” asked the client and the imaginary dark cloud lurking behind his virtual rainbows and sunshine demeanor (the one he puts on for client meetings) vanished!
He dialed his boss – “I’ve closed a deal”…
“What! I thought you were at lunch!…Amazing!”
Happy to have been able to impress his boss using a white lie he had said earlier, he drove back to office. Expectation managements an art.
The author looked at herself in the mirror and noticed the fine lines on her forehead and wished she had moisturized more often. Wisdom lines, laugh lines… all happy names for Senility’s unwelcome arrival leaving his unseemly mark with his fine tipped feather pen. She pictured him in her mind wearing a crazy looking hat getting his jollies off shouting ‘I’m here, I’m here!’…
Her thoughts were interrupted by her teenage daughter who had now joined her at the bathroom mirror to refresh her makeup. The author noticed how fresh and smooth her daughter’s skin looked until all of a sudden her face was upturned, her features were now stretched and the skin on her daughter’s forehead creased and folded into more than twenty lines. The young lady was trying to get a proper look at a tiny pimple on her chin.
‘Stop that right this minute’, the author shouted, startling her daughter…
“What?!!” the daughter snapped back.
“That – whatever you are doing with your forehead”, she said her long finger drawing imaginary circles on her daughter’s face.
“Mom, you are crazy” the daughter said and stormed out of the bathroom.
She was left alone once again with the lines on her face.
“Wisdom lines! bah! Loony lines that’s what you are”