Parts Unseen; The First

He wakes up at four. Not because he wants to. Heck no. He’d much rather be in bed. He turns and looks at the body of the lithe young thing that kept him company through the night. Some of these university girls could be so impressionable. That’s what he thinks as he gets up. He remembers the conversation all too clearly. It was not a particularly stimulating conversation. Could have put a cup of coffee to sleep actually. But she did look good, and easy. Easy was a plus.

He’d told her he was busy, but she’d insisted on meeting with him. She was his biggest fan; her size not withstanding. He’d looked at her and asked himself what harm there could possibly be.

They’d hooked up and after a couple of drinks she’d said she had forgotten her keys with her roommate and she had nowhere to spend the night. She’d then looked at him with the sort of eyes that practically screamed, “Take me”. . .

She didn’t have to. He’d been trying to find away of sweeping her off her feet, literally and into his bed for a meaningful overnight relationship. It’s also been referred to as a One-night stand in some circles.

And now she lay there. Barely a stir. He wondered how he’d get her to leave. A hint of guilt stops by in an attempt to recall where it was heading. He wonders whether the polite thing to do would be to leave her some money. After all she is a University girl . . . the guilt remembers its original destination and sets off as Dirk (for that’s his name) shrugs his shoulder and convinces himself that he did her a favour.

He freshens up and gets ready for work.

As he dresses up he sees her bag, lying on the floor. He hesitates, but curiosity gets the best of him and he sneaks a peek.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary in it. Well, there’s a half empty pack of condoms.
That explains how they managed to get them at that hour of the night, he thinks to himself. He also appreciates her thoughtfulness…he doesn’t see the Identity Card that shows what Secondary School she is still in.

Dirk arrives at the station at a quarter to 6. He pours himself a cup of tea. Good help is so hard to find. He wonders whether he should mention to the manager that he had to pour his own tea. Five years here and he still has to perform such mundane tasks . . . His mind drifts back to the girl he left back home. . . But only just, he has more important things to think about.

He goes through his mail. A couple of plaudits here and there and then there it is. He knows who its from even before opening the envelope. Worse still, he knows what’s been written. Its one of his strongest critics . . . no, not a critic, a hater as some of those guys he’d been hanging with in the states would say. The States, hmmm, he makes a mental note. He figured he will talk about that during his show.

Its now five minutes to six.

He considers calling her. But what will he say? That he was checking on her? It wouldn’t do. In fact, if he did that and any member of his species got to find out, he would without a doubt suffer “The Fate Of A Thousand Suns”. . . which is a simple procedure involving the loss of his nails one by one without any application of anesthesia. Well, that’s what’s written in “Alpha Masculinity 4 Dummies”; a book he picked up in the United States. And is not everything connected to the States legit.

He puts his phone down.

He plays a couple of songs and then goes on to tell the listeners what to expect during the course of the show. He finds that he sounds more authentic when he affects an accent. It used to be such that it wasn’t his, but with the way he kept dropping it, it made itself resident.
One of the draw backs would be the fact that people listening in to his show would complain that he messes up the artistes’ names. Then again, at that time, people are too preoccupied with work and losing sleep, they seldom notice.

He begins to talk about his visit to the United States of “A”, then stops as his mind makes its way back home… into the bed he left her in. He cuts it off before it gets into the house and goes on. He hopes no one notices the brief hesitation and if they do, that they appreciate the “coolness” of it all…

He asks listeners to call in and glances at the studio clock hanging on the wall opposite him.

Its 6:30am.

Comments

comments

1 Comment

  • savage Reply August 8, 2006

    Dude, you can sure weave a tale.

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