CHAPTER 1: THE THREAT
“But it is true. You ARE a whore. Sorry champ.”
Neena feels something tingling down her spine, literally. Her friend had slid down a cube of ice under her T-shirt while making her a drink; the chill brought her back to the present. She wanted to yell at her friend, but did not. Even her otherwise sharp reflexes didn’t make her remove the ice cube from underneath her T-shirt. The cool is good. As good as a whore.
The doorbell rings. Her fears are coming to life. She will have to smile now. She wears her specs in order to conceal her eyes. Somehow the transparence of the lens did not matter; something is filtering her gaze and that seems sufficient for the moment. Her friend has already opened the door letting in a cohort of people; noisy humanoids…humans…human beings. She preferred the term humanoids. By dissociating them from human beings and still keeping them humane, is how she would be able to stay moderately empathetic to this seemingly warm, jovial, caring bunch of people. But she desired wit and challenge. She desired threat. These humanoids posed none.
Hugs. Music. Whiskey. Smiles.
Smiles.
More smiles.
Hug again. Hug swapped.
New hug.
Deep hug. Dense hug. Warm hug.
Warm hug.
Who the fuck…is this?
The threat.
CHAPTER 2: CELL PHONE
She can hear the sound of the train approaching, and the subway announcement. But she can’t seem to lift her head to care. She knows this is the train she is required to board. But she refuses to do it. She wants to sit at the station a little longer; staring at the tiny ant pacing up and down on the floor perhaps looking for its compatriots. She has barely seen a lonely ant, ever. She felt bad for the poor thing. She squashed it. Nobody noticed.
She walks out of the underground station; she decides not to take the train at all. She needed some fresh air. Well, whatever air the city can provide - fresh or not fresh. She looks up to the sky to witness massive nimbuses making weird formations; one even looked like a giant penis. A drop of water splatters the lens of her thick black rimmed specs. Another one followed. And another one. And more. “Dayemn!” she thought. She was in no mood to enjoy the rain today.
“Neena! I thought you were going downtown,” her friend called out from the third floor balcony of their house not very far away. Can she just call her a house mate? But that would hurt her feelings. So friend she is.
“I was! Now I am not,” Neena tried to be as loud as possible. But she thought she just produced some muffled up sounds and a gesture that seemed to resemble lips of a fish blowing bubbles underwater. Thankfully, it wouldn’t hurt the sentiments of her ‘friend’. The sound of the rain has overpowered the space and nobody cared any more.
She knows it is a bad decision; she will catch a cold not just because autumn is almost over and there is a nip in the air, but because November rains are merciless. She knows she will be hurt real bad, yet another time. She smiles at the sense of impending doom, sinking heart and the eventual haircut. Right time for caffeine.
“I knew the moment you were out, that you’d be back all drenched,” said her friend.
“How would you know?” Neena rushed to the bathroom to change.
“Oh! Come on, I know you far too well. And while you make your coffee, please make me one as well. Thanks!”
Really? Does she know her that well? Does she, really?
She scrubbed herself so hard under the warm shower that she thought her skin bled. No it did not really bleed.
Coffee.
Sunday coffee is good. Rain day coffee is good. Black coffee is good.
She takes out her cell phone and wondered if she should call someone. But who? She wanted to talk to someone who was not sincere, someone who wouldn’t come rushing in the worry that she might be depressed or something. Someone, who’d just talk for the heck of it while he busies himself doing his chores; designing some computer shit, or writing their thesis, or jerking off to porn. She dialled her threat.
“Hey sweety, how are you? Tell me! What’s up?”
“Your dick! Bye”
She switched off her mobile. How incredibly boring suddenly the otherwise supposed to be witty humanoid sounded. Human being. Demotion.
Four hours later, in utter nervousness, Neena turns her cell phone on. She doesn’t know what to anticipate. Perhaps, hanging up like that was rude. But she couldn’t help it! The monotone of the strewn up words just overpowered her brain cells and made her do such socially unacceptable things! There were WhatsApp messages - some 236 of them. Three from the threat, sounding as boring as the three lines he got to speak on the phone.
Message 1: “Wait, what just happened?”
Message 2: “Did I do something?”
Message 3: “Fuck you, bitch!”
She rolled on the floor in laughter, again, literally.
Still feeling the warmth of the rug on the floor, she looks at the mobile screen. Was there any message worthwhile to read, she wondered. 232 of them were from various groups - school group, college group, work group, why-the-fuck-am-I-a-part-of-this-group group. There was one message that made her skip a heart beat.
That was straight from the grim reaper himself. He is going to rip her into pieces and suck the soul out of her. They hadn't communicated in eleven months; they had decided that’s best for both.
“You have put on weight.”
THAT was the message from the fat bastard. From that attractive, incredibly intelligent, warm and cruel, fat bastard.
