Lately I noticed I have been waking up in the middle of the night. When the drawer clock struck three o’clock my eye lids opened and my mind awakened. Unlike the blurry haze of being moved by a roommate, my consciousness sprang to life right away, ready to witness the majestic awesome of the great silence of the dark.
In the shadows my eyes could see clearly; every piece of clothing strewn across the floor, upon furnitures and atop shelves. In one corner of my room, towers of pizza boxes stacked high and beside those, empty plastic bottles of assorted carbonated drinks moving slightly by the soft whispers of the night coming from outside my window.
My feet touched the cold floor, and it was peculiar because my body felt warm. I remembered I haven’t bathed since Friday night after coming home from work. But what I couldn’t remember what day it was. Saturday? Sunday? Is tomorrow Monday? Did I skip work last Monday? I remembered spending hours after hours on the PS3 as the Sun and Moon took their turns. Time is lost on me.
It didn’t matter. I looked around some more and grabbed at a cloud of black, stuck in between my bed posts and dresser; when my fingers clasped around a solid familiar. A key was pressed and my BlackBerry screen blinded me for a brief second. My eyes wavered from a deliberate squinting to a grimace, adjusting to that screen light. And slowly but surely, a face started to form.
Her face was sharp now and I drew a slow breath, then a long sigh. Despite I told women, in truth I’ve never seen an angel before. But if biblical depictions or lyrics from Nsync’s songs were right, she must be one – when I saw her face my room lighted up. You might say it was because my BlackBerry was the only light around, but what do you know? You weren’t there.
I stared at the screen. Her face was my phone’s wallpaper and I wondered “Why I didn’t include her rack in the wallpaper. She does have an awesome rack. Those have got be Ds or at least Cs.”. Then I remembered racks are overrated. Nobody knows what’s real these days. I remembered that disappointing feeling when a girl takes her clothes off and had to remove those deceitful white padding from their bra cup. I hate those fat angel white wings more than I hate rempits. So I’ve long learned that huge racks are overrated. It’s better not to have any expectations when it comes to boobs. Asses are honest. You see what you get and the most misleading they can get is by wearing fitted jeans.
But then again when I came to think of it… Hers seem to be consistent in size. A tight slap landed on my face and I was aware again. I stared again at my wallpaper for some time now. Chet Baker was singing “My Ideal” in the background of my mind and I was lost in the moment, staring at my BlackBerry.
“Am I in love with my phone?”
In the picture she was wearing a loose yellow top and her long black tresses was flowing down her head down to her neck like a shiny velvet river. Her arm was wrapped around another beauty, but my eyes never left her big smile. As I wept on staring… I had to remind myself to breathe now and then.
Why are people so obsessed with racks anyway? Well for one, you need to know what you’re dealing with. Big racks indicate how active a chick is sexually. Then again, I didn’t want to think of her that way. Not her. Definitely not her. “She does have a nice smile though”, I thought to myself again. “Sayang ass tak cantik”. Something in me screamed the fact she has a boyfriend. “Ah fuck it”.
The vibration startled me.
BBM Notification: 1 New Message.
Sheila : You awake?
I stared. I grinned. I hesitated. I grinned.
Izham : Sup
Sheila: I need help. A man’s help ;)
Izham: Look no further. Shoot. Or can I finish first this time?
Image Received. Caption: What do you think?
Izham : Clean. Brazilian.
Sheila : Come over.
Izham : Don’t need to tell me twice.
Like a wolf I pounced on the towel that hung at the railing. As I passed by the kitchen, I took off my boxer shorts and flung it to a mummified heap of clothes leaning onto the washing machine. “Shit, I forgot my shaver”. So I went back into my room in my ass, trying my best to land my steps on the floor surface when my BlackBerry beeped again. From the sound of it, an SMS Text.
“Curious”, I said.
Would you like to apply the setting for your e-mail account? Yes No
No
SMS Received: Mahani
“Angel face…” I stared. Suppressing a feeling inside of me, I pressed open.
Mahani : Sorry late reply. Was with my sis and bro having dinner in Wangsa Walk. Baru balik, tak jadi tengok movies. You buat apew teww? Out with friends ke?
I breathed a heavy sigh. “Fuck it”.
Reply Mahani Call Mahani
Call Mahani
I waited for her to pick up the call. What bullshit reason would she text me afterwards for ignoring my call? Fuck it. I told myself not to think too much. Somebody picked up the called. Silence.
“Youu…”, said a voice from the other end in a song.
* * * * *
A could feel a smile upon my face. What once was a grimace now is something else… I looked at the clock and it was close to 530AM. The world seemed different now. Nothing’s changed in the house. Clothes still scattered about, pizza boxes still tower unconvincingly. But somehow rather… something’s changed.
The Black Berry beeped.
6 Missed Calls : Sheila
3 Messages:-
Sheila : You nak whipped cream ke apple sauce? (3.40AM)
Sheila : Hey babe, I hope everything’s fine. (4.10AM)
Sheila : I tried calling but the line’s busy. Don’t bother calling me again. Fuck you, Iz! (5.10AM)
“Not tonight kott”, I muttered to myself with a smile.
I sat on my couch, the same spot where I spent an eternity of bliss on the phone with angel face. My chest… It felt… Clear and spacious and wonderful. What is this? I didn’t matter. I smiled on, sitting on the couch.
Slowly but surely, an echo boomed from afar. From a far cry it grew into a solid cry of conviction. Subuh was here.
“When was the last time I had a drink?” I asked my self aloud, in the dark. The living room of my apartment flat echoed.
“So… It’s 40 days for a drop… That would make…“. I muttered on to myself, while absent mindedly reaching for a towel on the way into the shower. The murmur continued as the door closed.
“Wait, it’s… Nawaitu raf ‘al hadasil akbarilillahita’ala… I think… Am I saying it right?”
END
