Let’s see how this night goes Boo. I know, you will be there tonight, wearing your new pair of stilettos and I will be standing in an invisible corner of the bar, with a black four-four, tucked around my belly.
You will walk in, holding his arms and rush to your reserved table. I will be sucking on my Bacardi. Your lips will glitter with your lip-gloss, which I know, tastes like plum. I have not trimmed my facial hair in past four months, so no one knows who I am. You will shine as a pearl, with every beam of light bouncing off your flawless skin. I will blend with darkness; black hoodie, black pants and black night shades. You will smile, maybe laugh out loud, and turn all the heads in the bar; amazing you. I will be quiet as a church mouse.
You won’t look at me, not even once, just like you never used to, in a busy hall, way before I even met you. But my eyes will stare right through your trench coat, till you hand it over to the waiter. I will notice your new necklace (or will that be a shiny part of your dress?), and your new watch and your new dress. There will be a new dress. There always is, for nights like these.
You will order some foreign food that I can’t pronounce, maybe something Italian. I will chug my Bacardi and top it up with another one. I will be drunk ten times more than my sanity limit. The bartender will now ask for my credit card to keep a tab (he will think I can’t pay my bills). I will give him three of those and tip him my watch, and stack of cash, and ask him to shut the fuck up. He will apologise and top up my drinks generously now. He will also smile at me, but I will be staring at nothing, but you. So everyone else in the vicinity, can go and fuck themselves.
Your man will touch your palm. I will light a cigarette. He will clasp your fingers, every now and then, and you will let him do it. I will touch my four-four, cough and half cock-it under my hoodie and then un-cock it, every time I see him do it. You and him, will be sitting across the table, unlike how you and I used to sit; on the same side of the table. Remember? There used to be so much love, that death could sigh and wait in a corner on our last day. Where’s all that now? Now, I am just a topic you don’t want to bring up in conversations with anyone.
Okay, now your man will do something stupid, something you did not know he could do. You overestimated him after all. Your eyebrows will shrink and your neck will flex backwards. I will smirk. You will, for the first time, look around, notice people and paintings and lights and chandeliers. You’ll comment like an expert on the interior designs or the aroma of the club or the music. He will nod. You will hum the songs too. It’ll not be the kind of songs, you normally listen to, but you will know the lyrics, because I used to sing these songs a lot.
You will look towards me, maybe spot me, but you’ll be unsure, so you won’t expect me there. I will look away and make a drunk conversation with the bartender. He will casually ask me, where’s my company for the night. I will tell him, “She’s dead”. He will apologise, and I will laugh, then grab him by his collar and whisper in his ears, “not yet…” He won’t know how to react, so I will give him a clue, “you will witness it, when it happens, don’t worry”. He will appreciate my sense of humor. I will chuckle at his innocence.
Your food will arrive and your drinks too. I will try to recall all the times when you had Sangria. But I will not recall any single time when you had with me. But now you do, and I can tell, that you like it, the same way, I can tell, you like spliffs of marijuana too, from time to time.
He will be drunk in a while, so will you be, so he will shake a leg and kiss you and you’ll kiss him back. At this point, the glass will break in my palms, and cut through my cracked fingers.
I would be furious. So furious, that I would want to choke you, to a point, where you would see a dark tunnel and flashes of bright light and your guardian angels in all forms. But then, I would not let you die, I would resurrect you, but that’s only, because I could choke you again.
The waiter will ask the bouncer to call me a cab or a doctor or a nurse; my blood would be all over the bar counter, and some in my drink, turning it red, more like crimson. I will tell him it’s all fine. Maybe, crack a joke about the drink, call it bloody marry or something. But he will insist. And before I make my point, the tall heavy two hundred fifty pounds of a giant will be assisting me to get up from the barstool. I will tell him, I am fine. I will make sure he doesn’t touch my gun. “Sir please, leave”, he will say. “Yes, leaving”, I will reply.
“Now would be the time, when I did it”, I will think. “I have planned it all for months. It can’t go wrong tonight. And if it does, I will live a life full of sorrow and disdain”, I will tell myself. I don’t want that. So I will make my way to the main door, but through your table and pause. My hands will be wrapped tightly around the handle of my four-four. I will take a close look at your happy dessert. Oh so he knows your taste, huh? I would want to mush it to bits, but I can’t spoil your little birthday party. It means everything to you, doesn’t it?
You’ll notice me coming from a distance, but your drunk eyes and your drunk mind, won’t be sure of who I am. I will remove my shades and remove my hoodie, so you can see me clearly now. You’d have never seen me this rough; Band-Aid on forehead, cheeks in a bush, lips chapped, eyes red like I haven’t slept in last four days…all that.
The DJ will call out your name; it’ll be twelve am. You will be in for the best birthday surprise of your life. My palms will be sweaty and legs will be shaky. He will be hugging your waist from behind, singing you a birthday song, with his cleft chin on your shoulders.I will see flashes from the past, not knowing which one is what. The whole club will be staring at you. But you…you will be staring at me. Words won’t come out of your mouth. You’ll freeze. You’ll whisper my name several times, under your breath, with a mix of surprise, joy, anger and pain. I will pull out the four-four and point it. Your jaws will drop to your belly. People around us will scream, but no one would approach me. The DJ will cut the music. The lights will be out now. You will gasp. He will leave your waist and stand still, maybe hide somewhere, maybe hide behind you. He’ll think, I will shoot him; funny guy. I will smile, finally, happily. “Happy birthday, have a great life ahead …”, I will say, and then point it at my temple and cock it, once and for all.