My Lolita, Que Son [book suggestions .TXT] 📗

think about rejection and failure. Anytime this thought pops up, i kill it. I will do all i can to make her mine, to make her love me. I don't have anymore chances to find happiness. This may be my last chance. I am a middle-aged man, and not getting younger.

I take a taxi and show the driver the address of the cafe. I know this place, he says. It is a garden cafe, a good distance from the street, so there is not much traffic noise. I told D that i will sit at a corner table. So i find a corner table. Giant bonsai are placed here and there among the tables on a bricked surface. One man sit alone not too far from me, reading a book. There is a couple on the other end of the cafe. I look up and see a blue sky. But that may change at anytime. Dark clouds may roll in quickly and massively and the rain will pour.

 

The waiter comes and asks me what i want. I say beer. He comes back with a beer, and pours the beer into a glass. I listen to the music. Fifteen minutes until my dream lover shows up. I run my hands on through my hairs. I have a few gray, and the gray show ups on my beard too. I am wearing a white dress shirt and a pair of gray pants. The eyeglasses are always on my nose. A rolled up newspaper is in my left hand.

 

One beer finishes and i order another beer--and she walks to my table, quiet like a cat. She wears a red tshirt and a pair of black jeans like she has said she would. She sits down in front of me, smiling. Hi, she says. Hi, i say. Things around me and in me suddenly crumble. I am not in this world anymore. I am transported to the seventh heaven. All turns silent. The earth disappears. All i see is her smiling face, the only real thing--everything else become fathoms. I cannot utter another word. That is her: 100 percent as i have imagined. A boundless and warm feeling of love overwhelms me. The intensity of the affection is much more than what is called love at first sight. All my fantasies and expectations are answered. The silence between us lasts for an eternity. Then i hear her say hi again. Her soft little voice is music, and her eyes are large and pearly black and they shines, and her smile is the most beautiful thing i have ever seen. She wears shoulder length hairs. Her neck is high and her skin is a perfect color of ivory. She places her hands on the table and i look at them. Ten long slender fingers--another masterpiece of nature. She does not wear makeup. I smell the flesh of a virgin, a smell that is more attractive than any perfume, and it arouses you .... like a male animal in heat. The silence lasts for a few seconds or an eternity, i am not sure.

 

-How are you, she says.

-Nice to meet you, i say.

-You traveled such a distance to see me.

-I am glad we meet at last.

-I am glad to meet you too.

-What would you like?

-Coffee.

 

The waiter comes over and i say coffee and he walks away. My heart is still beating hard and it is difficult for me to talk. My throat suddenly feels dry. She looks at me with inquiring eyes. The smile on her face quietly fades, but the look in her eyes becomes more intense. It is that curiosity that i have detected in her during our correspondence. She is studying me. For me, i don't need to study her. I already know what i need to know: i am more in love with her now than ever. Before, the feeling was vague, but now it is tangible, something that i can feel with all my senses.

 

-You look exactly like in the pictures, i say.

- ........ -You have no school today? I say

-I take the afternoon off, she says.

-Just to see me? I think my voice trembles.

-Why not. I have been anxious to see you, she says.

-Now we are here together.

-Yes.

-How's school?

-Fine.

-How's your family?

-Fine.

-When did you arrive in the city? She asks.

-Yesterday afternoon, i say.

 

She looks even younger than she does in the pictures. People might not say that she is 20, but more like 16 or 18. The waiter comes back with the coffee. I tell him to bring me another beer. She picks up the little spoon and stirs the coffee and puts it in her mouth and licks the milk. Her lips are pink, almost red. The smile returns--is it because the milk is so sweet?

 

-Is this the first time you're in this city? She asks

-No, i have been here before, i say.

-Really, when?

-A few years ago... i was on vacation.

-Oh.

-Where do you live? I ask.

-Not too far from here. About 20 minutes ride.

-You ride a motorbike?

-Yes .... and .... you know.... she starts then trails off.

-Yes? I listen very carefully.

-You look exactly like in the pictures, your facial features, i mean.

-Ok, i say.

-But older, she adds.

 

I have anticipated this comment. So i am not surprised. And i don't think it matters much now.

 

-Perhaps you mean a lot older? I say.

-I thought you were 32 years old.

-That was what i said to you.

-And are you really 32? She asks.

-No, D, i am not 32. I am 47.

 

So i did it, i confessed to my real age, and it feels as if a giant rock has been taken off my chest. She is silent. What's going through her head? She must be in shock. She looks down on the coffee and turns the spoon slowly. I am waiting for her answer, i am waiting for her reaction, but she is taking an eternity. I cast my eyes down, pick up the beer and pour it down my throat. The smile has completely disappears and her face slowly turns red. Suddenly, the sky roars and the sunlight vanishes. The waiter hurries to our table and raises the big umbrella, and as soon as he has done so, the rain falls.

 

-Well, D... i say, attempting to wake her up from the shock.

 

She still does not say anything, but continue to keep her eyes down.

 

-I am sorry that i lied to you .... i say.

 

She looks up.

 

-You are almost as old as my father, she says.

-I am sorry to disappoint you, I say.

-I was prepared to take our friendship one step further, but now....

-Am I too old for you? I ask.

-Yes, you are. You look much older than in the pictures. I thought i had some special feelings for you, and was willing to be more than just a friend for you once i see you because you have gone such a distance to see me .... i was excited... but now.... i don't know what to say.

 

I don't know what to say either. I have expected such an outcome. And i cannot refute the fact that my love for this woman has become a million times stronger now than before, and i will not let her rejection kills off this feeling. I have been waiting 100 years for this, i have been wanting this loving feeling, this powerful loving feeling to happen to me. D, with her charm and youth and beauty, has rained on the desert of my heart. Now i want her, i need her, i must have her, and i don't care if she loves me or not. I want her.

 

-It's up to you, D, but you can understand why i was not straightforward with you, i say.

 

Silence. All i hear are the rain and my own voice:

 

-I was alone for too long, and i was afraid of rejection. In the beginning i thought it was only a game between us, something to entertain ourselves with, but as time went by.... you made me feel ... you made me feel loved .... wanted ... that was why i wanted to see you in person even though i knew you might be disappointed.

 

I wave the waiter over for another beer. The first burst of rain has stopped. Another burst will come at any moment. D is still silent and she is looking past me at the bonsai. I can see a trace of sadness in her eyes.

 

-I was feeling the same way about you, she says.

-And now?

-I don't know. I am not sure. But what i am sure of is you are too old for me. Thirty two, i can accept. But Forty-seven .... i am sorry. But i liked you a lot and i think i still do.

-I understand.

-Perhaps we can still be friends, she says and suddenly returns to her ownself: bright, smiling, and charming.

 

We can still be friends? What does that mean? Does it mean we will go back to cyberspace and exchange emails again without ever seeing each other again? Emails that may become tasteless and meaningless and no fun anymore. No, that will not work. Perhaps we can just let go and forget about the whole thing. In a flash, the thought of losing her forever crosses my mind and it saddens me.

 

-You mean we will go back to writing emails? I say.

-Yes, we can do that.

 

But i am sure that after a very short time, she will stop writing and all will be forgotten, as if we have never met.

 

-I am in town for a week. Can i see you tomorrow? I say while my heart is being butchered into a million pieces.

-It is not a good idea.

-So this is it. I am glad i met you.

I stand up and she stands up.

-Let me walk you to your bike, i say.

 

She smiles and nods her head. I pay the bill, and walk with her. Her hairs are flying in the gentle afternoon breeze, and her ass sways discreetly while she is taking short steps to her bike.

 

-Bye, she says.

 

As soon as she is out of the parking lot and on her way, i hurry to the corner and ask a bike-for-hire driver to follow her.

 

-Follow that girl in the red shirt, i say and point my finger in her direction, keep some distance.

She never notices that she was being followed. The traffic is thick with motorbikes and the engine noises are deafening. We are just two bikes in a jungle of bikes. From behind, her hairs fly in the wind. Here at any moment, there are thousands of bikes and thousands of faces on each city block. You are there but you are not there. It is a gigantic human beehive. She stops in front of a gated house in an alley then opens the gate and enters. It is a three-storied house. I note down the house number, the name of the alley and the name of the avenue to which the alley belongs. Then i tell the driver to take me to my hotel.

 

When i get back to the hotel, it is dark, and the rain has stopped. I change into dry clothes and lie in bed. I turn on the tv. The big news of the day is a big fire in the center of the city that destroys a large department store and kills 32 people. The reason for the high number of deaths was trampling. Then comes economic news, and then world news. I call the front desk and a woman answers and i ask her to bring me some beers. Ten minutes later a woman appears at my door with a bucket that contains ice and some bottles of 333. I thank her and give her a tip. Then she lingers. I ask her what is she up to, and she asks me if i want company for the night. You? I say. No, someone else, she says. I'll call later, i say. She nods and walks away.

 

I lie