The Flower Farm

“Are you happy?”

The question snatched his thoughts back to present reality. I studied his face with the hope of finding signs of brain activity. His right hand held mine so tight as if I would disappear from his side anytime. He was driving on our way back to my office.

I had questions rehearsing inside my head. And while it took Bloody forever to give his reluctant yes, I couldn’t resist asking some more. If he’s happy, what was he doing here with me? What about those two other women I saw he flirted with last Christmas? He justified his philandering by his ability to provide for the family. As long as no one gets hungry, it’s ceasefire. He winked at me.

I felt his pulse, inspected his nails and felt his rough palm. Those thick calloused hands. He drove around with one hand on the steering wheel and alternated it on the clutch. His mind flew out of the window and landed somewhere along that dusty highway.

We met earlier that day at the other terminal on my way to work. It was the first time we were together on broad daylight. I felt relaxed and comfortable sitting beside him while we were telling each other vacation plans for the Holy Week. From time to time, his hand holding the clutch would brush against my knee and would sometimes rest his arm on mine. When all passengers were gone, he started holding my hand. The warm fuzzy feeling was intoxicating me.

Out of the blue I blurted things I should have not said. I complained about being tired, hungry and sleepy, completely clueless to their underlying meanings in the male dictionary. Before I knew it, he turned left on the road that would lead us to that particular spot famous for motel chains.

I saw in his eyes that quiet resolve. A surge of panic nearly choked me. If I had not won the argument, I was ready to jump off the car.

His gorgeous smile that brought sunshine to my day was wiped out by pain of rejection. The most charming guy in the terminal had just failed to score on a naive 30-something virgin. But he wasn’t the type who would just give up on selling the idea to me. We’re old enough, he said.

I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I felt his hand clasp mine.

It was already close to noon and we were stuck in the middle of the traffic. The heat outside already reached a sweaty degree that we could actually fry an egg on the windshield.

He put his arm around me as he pulled over in front our building. I was about to say goodbye when he leaned forward and kissed my lips without saying a word.

It just blew my mind away.