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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