Part I: It Might (Not) be Love
I knew him, I always knew him. Not that I was his friend, but I simply knew him. I saw him at the first time I came to this place, where all I saw were just people who were eating, drinking, and many of them…kissing. Yes, people were not only so busy with their own activities, but also with convincing others that they were in love. Love! I’d have rather made my stomach full than thinking about it.
There, he always had his lunch with his friends who, I believe, had the same job as his, whatever it was. It didn’t need so much time for me to catch his eyes, his figure. Right, his figure. Damn! I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t like someone just because his physique. You know what? For me, falling in love for only someone’s physical appearance was the stupidest thing in the world since physique would change…it always changed…believe me. However, I couldn’t control myself, I couldn’t stand of it.
I always saw him, everyday, every afternoon, after the praying time. I always tried so hard to hide my own sight so that he wouldn’t catch my eyes chasing after him. I’m embarrassed, yes. No, not that I was a woman, but because I knew that it would be shameful if he didn’t have the same feeling. I think it’s the same for all people, right? Many men I knew also felt shameful if they were rejected by the girls they liked. It’s not about who felt it, it’s about the god-damned pride.
I had spent three months here in this city to work in a newspaper, and finally I knew that he worked in a hospital, a doctor exactly. I didn’t spy on him, we talked. Not much. It’s only a small talk in front of the cashier or of the door. I liked him more and more. I then was not thinking about his physical figure anymore, I had forgotten it (thank God!). I was admiring his character, his aura, his charisma every time he talked to me. Handsome guys would not look good if he didn’t have such charisma, that’s what I thought. And he did look good. After that, I had to try harder and harder to hide my smile every time I talked to him. Not that I was too embarrassed, but because I eventually knew that he had already had a wife. He’d been already married.
I was shocked, yes… I was broken heart, of course. Why not?? It’s natural, right?? Who on earth didn’t feel broken heart when they knew that the ones they loved had had spouses?? Shit! I couldn’t even concentrate in front of my computer! Okay, I was not that drama queen and I could still get some great interviews with public figures, but not in front of my computer. I didn’t know why…
Days after that, we talked more than we had done before. He often invited me to his table if he was alone. Frankly speaking, I often tried to refuse his invitation after knowing that he was married, but more often than not, I couldn’t. Well, I was not that weak. I was just afraid that suddenly he thought I was mean…or…suddenly he knew what I felt on him. Loving and avoiding the same person was hard, ha?
He told me about his wife, that she was beautiful, that she was the woman that he had dreamed of for so long time in his life, that she was a good wife and a good mother. Great!! Then he told me about his two little sons. And I could barely eat my meal, I swore of God! I almost missed my lunch every time I talked to him. I felt like I loved the wrong one…But that’s not until I knew his thought, what he thought to be true about being a woman.
Apparently, he loved his wife so much not only because she was beautiful, but also because she could be the woman that he had dreamed of. Did you catch that?? She COULD BE the woman that he had dreamed of, not that she ACTUALLY WAS. She was previously a radio broadcaster, but then she quitted her job before marrying him just to be the woman that he dreamed of. Oh my God, how many times had I repeated this silly phrase??!! Yes, that was what happened. I might or might not be spurred by my broken-hearted feeling, but after I knew the truth about his wife, we started to argue each other. Almost fought, if we were not careful.
“Why did she quit??” I asked.
“Because I asked her.” he answered.
“Why??” I almost got my eyes out, seriously.
“I wanted her to be the true woman.”
“The true woman??!!” I was totally shocked, “What was the standard of being a true woman anyway??”
“Being a wife, a mother at home who takes care of her children, cooking, and everything.”
“For God’s sake, you can hire a babysitter!”
“But that’s her job as a woman.”
“Hassan, a woman’s job is not being a robot at home!! You’re a father and you’re also supposed to take care of your kids!”
“I’m working, I’m searching for money for them.”
“Oh my God…What the world are we living in??!!” I almost shouted out loud, but I stopped before it happened.
Few seconds later on, I almost giggled. “Cooking….A woman’s job?? Do you know who cooked your meal?? That..in front of you??” then I asked him, pointing at his plate full of beef steak.
He didn’t answer, I thought he was still shocked by my sudden shout and sayings. More than that, he looked disagreed with my sayings.
“The one who cooked your meal is Donny, a man. I know him because he’s my neighbor.” I told him, but he was still quiet. “And if you still don’t know, I tell you. Almost all of cooks in the world’s restaurants and hotels…are men.”
“They’re chefs. That’s they’re job.”
“Great! Now after knowing that they’re chefs, you’re saying that that’s they’re job!! And not you??!!”
“Rika, please… We should end this.”
He seemed to avoid further argument with me and started to eat his man-made beef steak. I ate my meal too, but my heart started to crash inside.
I didn’t know what exactly happened after that little fight. It seemed awkward for me to have such kind of argument with someone new in my life. More awkward was the fact that I had a certain feeling on him. Feeling…I doubted what kind of feeling that was. Love?? I was not so sure. Hatred?? Perhaps… I didn’t know. I wasn’t even convinced if my feeling (which might be love) had shifted to be hatred inside. Not that he had had a wife, a wife he had dreamed of for so long. I could handle that. It might be hatred because of his point of view about being a woman which hit my own belief. I felt…I felt humiliated by his thought, even though I knew that he felt more humiliated by my thought. I might love and hate him at the same time, I didn’t know…I was not sure.
One thing for sure, for two weeks after that argument, we rarely talked.
Tags: english story, gender, love story, short story
