Baby on Board
I waited for an eternity for this trip with her, ever since we first met, like, two weeks ago? And now I notice myself noticing the first two digits of the plate number of the truck in front of me add up to the same sum as the last two, forming a calming harmony. I wonder if she’s sending me a sign by wearing that short skirt.
“Looks like it’ll take us two hours and thirty seven minutes to get there. At least that’s what my phone says.”
“I’ll probably need a bathroom soon.”
“Sure. We can stop at a service station in an hour… or, any time you want. Or, how soon? Do you want it now?”
“No. One hour is fine.”
I notice again the first three digits of that plate number also add up to a sum that equals to that of the last three, forming a peaceful balance.
“What kind of music do you like?” I ask as she leans over to switch on the radio.
“A little of everything. Pop, rock, soul, and the ones with fast rhythm, what are they called?”
“Dance music? House?”
“Yes, exactly. … less rap maybe. They are just saying things. I mean I like them but they are not music to me.”
“That sounds fair enough to me.”
I can’t help noticing her legs right by my side. The car is small enough for me to comfortably rest my hand on her leg… should I do it? I am surprised by how unable to act I have become. Ironically more experiences sometimes make us weak. The car in front of me have a sticker on the back window that says: “I am always getting picked up by the ladies.”
“SoundBee specializes in the kind of electronic… I’m not a big fan.” I wonder which one of us picked the other one up? Or does it make a difference? We met and got terribly drunk. We went to bed in my place but didn’t have sex. We were both deep in shit. In our private shits. Two sad people hugged each other to sleep. I remember she started crying, but she said it was the other way around, she said I cried myself to sleep.
“It’s alright. SoundBee has a good vibe.”
“Do you know a lot of people there?” I noticed she blinked at the bartender and felt terribly jealous but never felt comfortable asking her.
“No. The bartenders are cute.”
I feel a strong impulse to grab her left leg and reach inside that damn pink skirt. Did she sleep with them? Does she sleep with every single man she meets like this in a bar? I didn’t get a chance to ask these questions through texting. I told myself the answer was no. She said she’s still not over with her ex, like I was. We are two sad people meeting after painful and ugly breakup, let’s try to help, not hurt each other. She said.
“You know… when you said that…” Lately I am learning to do things that would normally scare me. “when you said you found the bartenders cute… I know it probably sound so petty but I have to say this… did you mean you wanna sleep with them?” I can’t believe I said it.
“Yes in a way. But I know I never will.” She replies without thinking, like she’s talking about weather or music.
“Why?” I asks. She will never know how reassuring this is for me!
“You know why.”
She turns towards me. I can feel her eyes beaming at me. My heart loses a beat.
I suddenly realize the sign on the back window of the car in front of us that says “I am always getting picked up by the ladies” is actually a baby-on-board sign.
As babies we got pampered and soothed if we were upset, from our parents, relatives, and even strangers, but as adults we bottle everything in without even knowing we are doing it. Do we too have a right to cry and be cuddled and petted? The only place we could find such privilege is a lover’s arms. This is hard for people like us out of love. Who’s there for us? I wish I could stick a “baby on board” sign on my car too. So I could tell them: I, a man, could use some gentility.
“Yes. Sure.” I says. Squeezing the wheel with my sweating palm. Still wondering if I should grab that leg.
(End)
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