Wandering Heart Chapter 2

It's not yet a week, but I decided to appease my few-but-eager readers with an early update.  Thank you very much for  reading the 1st chapter and supported me through your comments. I'm so grateful for the personal comments over BBM or Facebook Message. However, it does help me more if you directly review the story by leaving your comment here. Even if you say I'm suck at writing the romance thing, I'm OK with that. I won't cry, I promise... Probably I'll just sob silently in my classroom.

Chapter 2 : With or Without You 

 (Bono/1987, Performed by U2)

Shaft of sunlight made its way through the half closed curtain to torture my sleepy eyes. It was 7pm on Saturday morning but to my poor eyes it shone as bright as the noon day. It quickly continued its journey to my brain and jolted me up from my slumber. My head ached as if a child wanting an ice-cream just screamed right at my ears. Fighting up the sudden urge to scream back at an imaginary kid, I slowly get up and made my bed. 

As I gain consciousness, I heard metal clangs that obviously came from the kitchen. Melinda must be there, cooking breakfast was a chore she cherished. She had talent and also willingness to explore and experiment with the recipes, a fact that I cherished everyday since the first morning I woke up in this building. She left me with cleaning up the shared bathroom on my chores list. Not that I was apt at scrubbing ceramic tiles, but she hated the feeling of ceramic cleanser on her skin and I preferred cleaning up the toilet once a week than cooking every day. So, I was very pleased with this arrangement and would forever be grateful for having her sharing the apartment.

The air outside my petite room was filled with the savory scent of chicken fried rice. Melinda stood in front of the stove, humming one of Celine Dion’s song while using an aluminum ladle to shovel the brownish rice. She caught sight of me as I pulled one of four chairs in our designated dining room and greeted me with a sing-song good morning. Her high-pitched voice seemed to amplify the spoiled kid's scream and sent a pinch to the soft tissue in my ears. Despite the pain, I managed to conjure energy which only enough to reply with a far less enthusiast good morning. 

Melinda and I met at our college dorm, though we were of different rooms. The first time I spoke to her was one morning when I accused her stealing my Harry Potter and The Sorcerer Stone novel. I came again later that day to apologize when I found the novel lying on my bed, having been ‘borrowed’ by my room-mate. Never one to hold a grudge, she quickly befriend me as a fellow reader. Our friendship became stronger each time a new volume of the series published. 

When we found out that our workplace was in the same neighborhood, we decided to share an apartment. We could only afford a small apartment, but still we were grateful for the new-found ability to avoid the infamous Jakarta traffic jam. However, anybody visited our apartment should be well-informed to prevent claustrophobia panic attack. 

However, we did enjoy little ‘Melaudrey Manor’, as Mel amalgamated our name and ‘baptized’ the apartment in our first day. We unleashed our inner artist and decorate it to attain the glory the name implied ever since. In our first week, we tirelessly painted the wall half down by hands so that it resembled honey-colored bricks. We made the living room/dining room an open air balcony, so I drew golden railings on top of the bricks and Mel painted the rest of the wall and ceiling with blue sky and white clouds. I drew faraway hills and green forest behind the TV.

Mel and I shared near-religious adoration to Harry Potter septalogy. So, when it's time to decorate our sanctuary, we shamelessly let our inner geek took charge. Melinda’s 2,5 x 3 meters bedroom was made a green house. We drew various plants, from the quirky combination Calla Lilies, Gerrbera Daisies, Lilacs ‘planted’ on top of her bed, to magical plants like Monkswood, Belladona, even Dirigible Plum. My room was made the library which contains an old ‘first copy’ of Dante’s Divine Comedy, Bronte Sister’s novels to course companion books that were used by students of Hogwarts. We only hoped J. K. Rowling would never step a foot in our rooms, otherwise she would definitely sue us over copyright infringement. 

The apartment’s owner was near to having a heart attack when he saw what our artistic talent did to his apartment. We had to pay him some more money to repaint the wall if we decided to leave the apartment. All the more reason to enjoy while it last, said Melinda at his dismay. 

“So, what happened last night?” She put down two plates of fried rice while I got us some plain water and the cutlery needed.

 “Arrgh, not you too!”

“I can’t help it. You know, Henry told me he’s going to propose when he picked you up last night. He showed me the square-cut diamond. It was huge! Lady, you’re one lucky girl. He was excited and I was also so excited for you. But being a good friend I am, I kept my mouth shut until this morning. So, you have to reward my self-control and spill me the beans! Oh no… Show me the ring first!”

 I showed her my empty fingers dramatically.

“No!” She exclaimed as she took a seat and spooned her share of fried rice.

I nodded as I gulped. "Anyway, Excited huh? Henry and excited should not be put in the same sentence, Mel.”

“Well, he was excited in his own way. Not really jumping up and down, like we would, but it’s still excitation. At least he told me his plan. If he’s not excited, he won’t do that, right? For someone who thought herself as a good judge of character, you seem so oblivious when it comes to him.”

“I’m not oblivious. It’s Henry. He’s driven by his ambition. So, what he did was a calculated action. He must have seen how close we are, and he was telling you his plan to make you his ally. Tell me what you did after he told you that, besides keeping your mouth shut?”

“Oh yeah, I helped you dress and chose the olive satin cocktail dress for you over your previously chosen hideous white frock and jeans that I would wear for scrubbing the floor. I convinced you it’s appropriate, considering Henry’s smart suit. I convinced you further by complimenting how it matches your skin tone. Goodness! I even helped with your  hair! Did he really calculate my actions?”

“Believe me, he will be a successful politician in his thirties. Foreseeing and controlling people’s reaction is an ability that he must have to succeed. And you’re not a difficult person to read anyway, Mel.”

“And I’m proud of that. I shivered at the thought of your conversations in your dates. It must be far from sweet-nothings. Both of you must have planned how to conquer the world.”

I laughed at her statement. Although the topic Mel suggested was never on the table, Henry and I have others, very diverse topics to converse about. Romantic he may not, but Henry had the ability keep our conversation going. Not many male could do that, and that made me stay with him for two long years. He was not boring, and he probably would never be. 

Once upon a time, we clicked that way. If we were in a different era, he must be a powerful roman senator who had a beautiful submissive patrician wife, and I probably was a courtesan who he often met to exchange intelligent banter.

He was also the only man who did not laugh when Mel excitedly informed him the Harry Potter theme of our apartment. Heaven forbid, he never read the series, but he was even curious and probed us about the idea. Well, right before he mentioned the blasphemous statement, that Harry Potter books were for children. Mel  looked shocked and hurt, while I almost hexed him to oblivion had I ever owned a wand. I refused to talk to him for almost a month, but then caved in when he brought me to watch Deathly Hollows part 1, despite his busy schedule. 

Yes, he was still as romantic as an oak tree in the winter, but he was sweet in his own sneering, manipulative, and haughty way. It was impossible to not be fond of his character flaws after 2 years. Somehow it had been a convenience, a strange comfort even, to spend some time in his presence.  

 “Audrey, I’m sorry.” Melinda hugged me and brought me back to reality. I felt my cheeks wet. At first I thought I was Melinda’s tears, but then I realized that those are mine.

“I loved him once upon a time, Mel. Two years is not a short period of time. But, I just can’t marry him, it would be the death of us.” It was short compared to for life. We had different dreams and for us to achieve those, our path must part. I knew this for a long time, but I was too greedy to let go.

“I know sweetie. I know. I’m sorry. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I understand.” She cooed as if I was her student in first day of school, being separated from my mom for the first time. In the comfort of her arm and shoulder, I continued crying, though I was confused of the reason. It seemed as if the rage that overtook me last night seeped out and left me with grief. No matter how good I rationalized it, separation was never easy.

We hugged each other for almost 15 minutes before finally my sobs faded. She put her palms on my shoulders and looked right into my red swollen eyes, “Well, if aspirin works for headache, you know what might work on heartache?”

“No.” I wiped my excess tears.

“Chocolate ice cream, caramel pop corn and Spongebob Squarepants marathon. What do you think?”

‘I think it will work successfully.” I laughed as she ran back to the kitchen and prepared the things she mentioned. 

I couldn’t help but to smile at her. My dear friend Melinda did view the world in her funny logic. Had she been a doctor, she probably would be the female version of Patch Adams, assigning his cancer patients to watch Mr. Bean instead of taking a handful of chemotherapy pills. Forever the optimistic, it’s as if she brought the sun everywhere she went. At times like this, even without the understanding of the circumstances, she always ready to lend her hand to pull me from the sinking sand. I stood up on my feet and followed her to help in the kitchen. I too, shall exert all my strength not to let myself sink deeper.

Thank you for reading this far. Hopefully J. K. Rowling won't sue my bottom for mentioning her masterpiece here. I can't help it, I'm such a pathetic fan. These two chapters and the next one were more 'get to know the characters' than get down to business. Since this story is written in 1st person point of view, I'd prefer the reader to understand Audrey's character and even empathize with her, so that in the long run, the story is more enjoyable.

Wandering Heart Chapter 1

Author's note: This story started as my attempt of writing romance. Failed again *sigh*. It's  now a mixture of romance-comedy-adventure (kind of). I had intended to use song titles as the chapter title, and you might as well noticed that the title of this story is taken from a hymn, "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing" (so far. It might change in the future. It was named "Little Paperback Writer Adventure" a while ago. I am bad at writing titles, if you have any idea, don't hesitate to hit the comment button below and tell me ). Thank you for sparing your precious time to read my story!

 

Chapter 1 : That’s Life

(Thompson/Gordon, 1966, performed by Frank Sinatra)

The restaurant was full as usual, but the way soft incandescent light dimly lit the tables somehow gave an intimate feeling to its clienteles. The grand piano at the entrance was softly playing acoustic version of a Frank Sinatra song that I could not recall. This restaurant was popular for its ability in satisfying the appetite of young executives with money to burn. The tenderloin steak that I ordered, although perfectly grilled medium-rare, was mediocre in the flavor department. It was not marinated as proper as it should, the rare part in the center of the steak tasted bleak and it made me feel like a cannibal for eating it. My room-mate Melinda could cook twice better flavored steak with a tenth of the price.

My thought about the glorious food was on halt when the man sitting in my table took my left hand that was resting on the broken white table cloth. I got a kick in the teeth when he slipped a golden ring with a square-cut diamond into my left ring-finger.

“Audrey Siregar, be my one and only wife, the love of my life.” Said he whilst holding and caressing my left hand.

He said that with all the certainty he had, and God knew that he had plenty, for he slipped that ring to my finger even before asking. I thought about his sentence and I’m pretty sure it’s not even a question. Everything he spoke of is an order.

I looked into his eyes. I tried to contain the rage building up within me, indifference becomes my mask. The man staring back at me, Henry Hadiningrat, my date today and my boyfriend for two years, was not a view to be treated with nonchalance. From afar, he had a build like heroes from historical romance novels. When he stood up, he stood up straight, with perfect posture that could only be produced by good breeding and Spartan schooling. He towered everyone around him with his dominance. As you get closer, his features became more intimidating. He had a set of piercing dark brown eyes, which projected confidence and authority to everyone he talked to. His bone structures could be compared to those belonged to Roman senators, perfectly fit to his occupation as a staff in a political party. Add shiny cinnamon curls to that, he did look like 21^st century Marc Anthony.

Although I hate the smugness that he always oozed out, I had never question myself of why I would ever dated him in the first place. Jealous glances from females around me which confirmed my place as the alpha was one of the reason. Henry and I met at a charity luncheon hosted by his party. My boss was invited and I was the plus-one. Two socially awkward journalists in a population of politicians could only mean one thing: we were keeping our vigilant eyes open so that no political affairs shall go unnoticed. Henry was there, looked ravishing, conversing with me and suddenly asking me out. I was curious at his request, as I was never considered a beauty, too shabby and gawky to be a classic and too confused to even apply little make-up and almost-numb fashion sense for being considered a modern beauty. Occupational hazard of being a print-journalist, I guess. When I started dating Henry, I would swear I saw girls from other departments who once treated me like a willing caddy, went agape as we strolled down the stairs hand in hand. Somehow we became couple, and two-thirds of female population in my office building went crazy. Oh, how I love being the ‘it’ girl by hanging out with the dashing rising star.

However, marriage is a totally different thing. I did not have any idea where did he get his certainty about marriage with me. We were not a great couple; our differences often resolved by treaties that preceded by raging wars. Nobody would ever call me a cool-headed or submissive woman, two qualities that I think, should be possessed by his wife. Our romance is far from fairy tale, for he is as romantic as an oak tree in the winter.

Probably, his mother nagged him. We were in our late twenties, the age of “Quarter-life crisis”, or in her words, the age of “get married and get me grand children!” To think again, it’s most likely his boss did the nagging, Mrs. Elaine Hadiningrat never had that kind of power over her son. His boss was a conservative politician who claimed himself to hold family values more than anything. It means that his married employees would be considered more important than those without a ring on their fingers. The thought that his proposal was just about career advancement further enraged me.

I must be silent for quite awhile, something that was not often happened. People always thought that it’s impossible to stop me talking. I felt his palm dampen. He must have felt the storm in my mind, the certainty in his eyes faded a bit. “Audrey? A penny for your thought.”

I lowered my sight, my eyes on the ring that he secured in my finger. I hated square-cut diamond. The four sides reflected security and stability, and with the ring, it’s as if Henry promised me the same thing. But all I could think of the squared-ness of his offer was a cell of four walls. I had too much fire within me, locking it up within it would be dangerous. More than that, I hated the thought of me being a trophy-wife. Eventually, I gathered enough motor-function to say a one-syllable word, “Why?”

 “I don’t understand your question. Don’t you like the ring?”

“I mean, why do you propose to me?” I brought my eyes back to his.

Now it’s his turn to be silent. His eyes seemed to question my sanity. He was also not a silence-lover, so it only took him about half of a minute to start talking again.

“I think it’s about the time for us to be more responsible in life, to be more stable and well of course, to raise a family together.”

Damn you, Henry Hadiningrat! I’m a responsible and stable adult already, in my own way. And you know what? This world is over-populated already to be filled with Henry Hadiningrat juniors!!

I wanted to scream that to him, but my tongue went numb. He rendered me speechless. I took the half-full wine glass in front of me and gulped all it contained. Probably I needed the alcohol to be able to do what I was about to do.

I slipped the ring out of my finger and put it in his right palm. “I’m so sorry, Henry. I doubt that you will want to spend the rest of your life in hell that our marriage will become if I am to agree with this proposal.”

With that, I stood up, took my purse with me and walked out the restaurant, leaving Henry stunned on his seat. Somehow a strange sliver of delight came to my heart, congratulating myself of what a good judge of character I am. Even before he spoke of it, I was able to deduce his motivation of the proposal. I held my head high while feeling everybody’s eyes on me. Darn! In my rage I forgot that it was him to drive me to this fancy restaurant. I reached the concierge already, and a journey back to his table would be a journey to serve myself as an entertainment to those posh people inside. Begging Henry to bring me home after refusing his offer and mentioning “hell” in the same sentence would be equal to my humiliation. He did not bother to follow me to the front door, for he must be hurt by my rejection. It’s always the pride who took the hardest fall. So, I asked the concierge to call me a taxi. Miraculously, only a minute after a taxi stopped in front of me. I got in quickly, told the driver my address, and buried my face with my palm to control my rage.

The taxi did not move, and I felt a finger poked me on my right shoulder. I lifted my head to see there was a man already in the taxi.

“Excuse me, may I get out of this taxi first before you barged in? I need to walk through that door” He pointed the door on my side.

“WHAT? Can’t you just get out from that door?” I pointed back to his side’s door. “Or the earth has to stop revolving so that you can get out of this taxi?”

“Ma’am, that door is not working, he has to use your side’s.” the taxi driver explained to me with a tone that Melinda, a kindergarten teacher, often use to reprimand her fowl behaved students.

My rage was not properly released as I displaced it to an innocent bystander. My whole skin turned beet-red as I acknowledged my wrong-doings and begged forgiveness from the stranger in black suit.

“Nevermind.” He said, in a hurry, “now, may I?

I got out of the taxi and waited for him to do the same before I jumped back in and hoped that no way on earth I would meet him again. 

That's all for now! I'll update in a week :)

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