Unusual.......

“I want to make out with you right here”, he said staring at her cabin curtain seat of the Volvo.

The Volvo would take her back to Medical school, away from the city, away from him, away from “them”. The 3-day break she took all of a sudden seemed far too less time to touch him, feel him, kiss him, love him, or know him. She was desolate. He even more so, but couldn’t show it and as usual used lust as a defence mechanism. He knew it would make her smile.

She did and kissed him, tears flowing slowly off her cheeks onto his and somehow they felt “one” sharing a tear.

“I love you and we’ll be together for good”, she choked.

“I love you and we’ll be together for good”, he repeated, waving her goodbye.

They were 19 at the time and as such “lifelong promises” don’t materialise. Life and circumstances get in the way.

4 years passed. They had their share of relationships, without letting go of their friendship. The calls continued as did the conversations.

He was at work one Friday evening when “Anita Calling” appeared on his cellphone.

“Hey Ken”.

“Heyyyy, Long Time. How are you doing?”

“Ok. I’m a doctor now by the way. Forget that. I’m back in Bombay. Let’s meet up. My parents are out of town.”

“Congratulations. Sure lets meet up. Dinner at the ‘usual place’”?

“Sure. It isn’t ‘usual’ considering we haven’t been there in over 4 years”

He smiled. “I’ll see you at 8-30, which means you’ll reach by 9-30”

“No, I’ll be on time. I’ve matured.”

He sat at the “usual”, reading a business magazine. It was 9-15 pm.

She arrived fifteen minutes later looking well, beautiful.

“I thought you had matured”.

“That’s your first line when you see me after 4 years?”

“I thought you had matured”.

“Well, I’m still a woman, ain’t I?”, she smiled.

Being late is a virtual “given” with women, like a lot of other things in life. It’s a rule in an unwritten book of rules that men have learned to abide with, without question. Ofcourse it’s easier to accept when a woman’s late because she always seems to look beautiful when she arrives finally, which somehow makes up for the irritation of the wait.

“Yes you are”, he resigned.

And so the evening began.

They caught up, smiled, laughed and talked about their partners “in between”. At that moment, all their previous relationships seemed meaningless.

“So, How’s she?”

“She’s great...........I’m in love with her and I think she’s the one for me”. He carefully worded his sentence.

“That’s great. I’m so happy for you. You deserve happiness and I mean that”.

He noticed something wasn’t “alright”.

“How’s he?”

“We.....We broke up yesterday”.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He stayed silent, with her, without asking questions, demanding answers or offering false assurances, he knew her all too well.

“You know I really wanted to marry him”.

The moment a woman uses “marry” in a sentence, it means the guy was special. But what I don’t get is how a woman can utter the word “marriage” at the age of 23 when her whole life and career is right in front of her.

He looked at her, said nothing.

She looked “rock-bottom”, the beauty of her face stricken with loss that yearned for acceptance, belonging and love.

They ordered starters. It let time pass.

“Let’s play a game”, he announced.

“Not in the mood”.

“Thankfully “mood” is not a necessary requirement in this game.”

She smiled, “Tell me”

“Let’s rate the women sitting here”

“What!!”, she sounded bemused.

“You have to rate the women here. Give me a justification. I’ll decide if you’re spot on or not”.

“Shut up. I don’t want to play this game.”

“Of course you don’t, it’s challenging and you’re insecure”

“Oh Shut UP”

“Let’s try one. How about that woman behind you?”

She looked behind. On the seat was seated an attractive woman, in her mid-twenties, whom he had been noticing all evening. She wore a white T-Shirt and Jeans, striking features and a smile that would have you dream. He had mentally given her an 8.

“I don’t know. 6?” she quipped, hesitatingly.

“She’s an 8!!”, he ordered.

“NO WAY”, she stopped him as if she were an expert in rating women, “I mean look at her. Her face is too sharp.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means. She’s an 8. She’s hot.”

“She’s not. Her top doesn’t go with her figure, plus her bag doesn’t cut it for me, not to mention her shoes.”

“Jesus. That’s not how you rate women. You rate women by their “inner beauty”, not their outer accessories. She’s got great tits, not to mention slender hips to move one’s hands around while you’re caressing her curvy ass.”

“You’re sick. You rate a woman; physically by how "easy on the eyes" she is.”

“Like you can see “easy on the eyes” when the lights are off. Never make rules for games you’ve just begun playing. You know the years of science that men have used deriving the rules of this game”, he said using his most convincing tone.

She laughed, “Yeah? Explain the science”

“You look at the woman. You determine how much you’d pay to fuck her for an hour. 1000 bucks is the top limit, because I don’t want to spend more than that on anyone. Divide that value by 100 and you have your rating for that woman.”

She laughed louder calling him sick every 2 seconds. The pronunciation of the term “sick” getting elongated with every laugh.

She adjusted her hair, sat back in her chair, took another look at the woman, “I don’t think I’ll pay more than 300 bucks for her”.

“You’re such a lesbian slut. Tell me what you’d want to do with her for that hour”

They laughed. Starters were long done with. The main course was on the way as they sipped their Ice teas.

“You’re saying you’ll blow 800 bucks for an hour with her?. You must be joking”

“Yeah. I’l blow 800 bucks and receive a blow back. Good barter. If only you knew how to think with a dick.”

“You guys are so sick. So sick!!”.

“Look at the whore who just said “she wouldn’t mind paying 300 bucks to bang that woman” talking”. They laughed.

And laughed some more right through the evening. His age old trick of using lust as a defence mechanism had worked once again. It distracted her from her fucked up state of mind to the thought of deciding how much money she’d pay to fuck a woman. It was perverse, to an extent but who gave a fuck if it made her flash her truly beautiful smile; clear the lines of distress from her face; forget her troubles if only for a little while and live.

They walked out. It was 11 pm and strangely the streets weren’t that busy with traffic, people, business or noise.

“Are you getting late?”, she asked as she ate her Cornetto.

“Not at all. It’s a Friday. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“No. I want to sit with you, somewhere, anywhere.”

“Ok. Does there look good?”, he pointed at the sidewalk on the road, outside the shutter of a shop just closed after business.

“There?. It’s almost on the road. Hmmm.....Screw it, let’s sit there”.

They sat. Talked. Laughed. Reminisced. Smiled. Held Hands. Felt. Saw each other. Smiled again.

Just then an “outstation bus” arrived right opposite to where they were sitting. People began adjusting their luggage on top of the bus before getting into the bus.

“Do you realize, about 4 years ago, the last time I had seen you, you had dropped me on of those very buses and here we are 4 years on, sitting practically on the same road, together but not together. We’re 23, supposedly grown up. You’re with The Times of India, I’m a doctor. How times have changed.”

“Yeah”, he mustered, practically the only time that evening where words failed him as he looked at her, “but we still have each other”, he added what felt like a timely interlude.

“Yeah we do, as we always will.”

They parted ways, holding hands and looking at each other silent, the irony of life and love still lost on them.

As he stepped on the train remembering every tid-bit of the previous three hours, every joke, the woman whose price they fixed, the unintentional glances, the sitting on the road later, the déjà-vu of the bus appearing. Everything.

Just then his cell phone vibrated. She had sent him a message that got him smiling.

“Ok, I’ll pay 650 bucks for that woman, but nothing more. PS - Thank you for being you.”, it said.