She could not believe it. It simply did not happen.
The guy had been nice enough. They were both queueing at different counters, standing next to each other. His queue was taking to long, the man at the cashier was busy arguing. “Murphy’s Law”, he grumbled under his breath. She heard him, and started giggling. He saw her, and she knew that she was being rude. He got annoyed-“It is not funny you know, I am really hungry.”
She could not hold back any longer. She broke out in a full blown laugh, coming out in waves from behind her shielding, apologetic, hand. It was infectious, that laughter, and they began to talk. Words became sentences, and sentences became a walk, and the walk slowly melted into something neither wanted to end.
It was the most beautiful day either of them had ever had. She giggled non-stop at his curious French accent, he found her laughter unbearable unless he joined her. They strolled the streets she knew so well, and she showed him her haunts. The barman was surprised to see her there with a man; she never did bring dates along. “This is not a date, either, Sherman”, she explained. But when the barman wanted to be introduced she remembered she didn’t know his name. “It’s not important”, he said, and just shook hands jovially with the barman. A martini, and an orange juice it would be, in a downtown bar, in the daytime. The conversation flowed like a monsoon river, and neither thought twice before saying exactly what they were thinking.
The beach was lovely and deserted, and they just sat and looked across at the ocean, and neither said a word for more than an hour. When she started laughing again, he wondered why, but never asked. It was laughter after all, why question it? He simply joined her, and they just celebrated being there, and having nothing to say. The sunset was beautiful in silence; she had never seen it that quiet before. He gently touched the side of his hand to hers. She looked at him, and they smiled.
Dinner was accompanied by saxophones and violins, and followed by dancing. He touched her like a lady, never too much, never too less. They floated across the swimming pool’s deck, uncannily synchronized, especially since the violinists had already left. The moonlight shone across the blue surface of the water, and they just glided right next to it, challenging every sparkling ripple in its beauty.
When it was getting late, he said he must drop her home. They walked back, and she stood on the steps waiting to be kissed. He bowed low and said he had never thought something as spectacular as today was ever possible. He said thank you, and for the first time in her life, she knew it was really meant.
She said thank you to him as well.
“Have a good life”, he said, turning around. She thought she should stop him, ask him to stay, to tell her who he was, to never leave, but the day was wearing to a close. She could not gather the strength to say anything, and when she finally decided to run after him, he had disappeared.
She did not even know his name.
Unbelieving, still heady, she turned her back to the night, and knocked at her door.
She could hear her mother’s running and stamping footsteps as they came nearer to where she stood, their clamour eroding the day’s peace with every passing moment. When the door opened, and she saw her mother’s expression, she thought, this could not have belonged in this day. Her screaming voice was the day’s dirge.
“Where the hell have you been?”