Will it rain, do you think?

One of the nicer things about living in a city like Cesspool is sitting by the sea. I’m supposed to meet the girls after my run at the Seaside Cafe. (seriously lacking in imagination but you couldn’t get more sea side). I’m running late.
I zip into the place. It’s empty as usual. Beyond the huge glass windows all you can see in the distance is the sea and blackness. Closer are the rocks and filth. We never look at it, just into the horizon. Maybe that’s that makes Cesspool a city of achievers and dreamers. Everyone is avoiding looking at reality.
I pant my way to the chair opposite Harry and Sytar, “others?”
“Gaia’s caught up in a press con.” Harry grins wickedly, “Some toothpaste launch no doubt.” Gaia’s a reluctant FMCG reporter for a news channel. She’s pushing for her own environment based show.
“Sky?” I wheeze.
Sytar shrugs. On cue her phone beeps. Message from Sky. I raise my brow.
Won’t be able to make it. Got work. Really wanted to come.
This time I shrug. “So what were you guys talking about?”
“Back ups”
“Ahh.. I guess everyone needs to keep a contingency guy.”
“Computer backups, India, computers.” Sytar shakes her head. I grimace. Harry looks interested.
“So you have one huh? A back up?”
“Sure. Got him lined up a year ago.” I slouch in my chair with legs stretched out looking superior.
“Who? George? J.B? That Wodehousish guy from college?” Sytar can’t believe it when I keep shaking my head, “who else would you make your backup?”
“The flaw in your reasoning is that you think I want safe backup.” Getting into the spirit of things, I lean forward, indolent pose forgotten, “see.. why would we need a backup who’s a friend? I mean he’s your friend and if you’re settling for less then you may as well agree to the arranged marriage. But if you want a true backup, then get yourself a backup not of compromise but a romantic adventure.”
The words romance and adventure together shoot energy thru me, kind of like if Indiana Jones rappled up the Empire State Building to meet Annie (Think Sleepless in Seattle not Orphan). I sigh and look into the distance trying to look both adventurous and romantic. The effect is spoilt by the sudden arrival of the waiter.
“Fresh Lime water” I mutter. He disappears.
Sytar looks incredulous, “A romantic backup? How does that work? You can’t just plan to fall in love.”
I smirk., “Look, you remember I’d gone for that book reading at Rain?” I get nods. “well.. I met a guy there. He was one of the readers. And it was corny but he looked so familiar. And after an hour of covert glances, we finally asked each other if we’d met.”
Harry and Sytar groan and snicker, “Couldn’t you guys come up with a better line?”
“It wasn’t a line. That’s what makes it so crazy.. both of us thought we’d met but we’d never been in the same city ever. Then..”
I’m interrupted with, “..a past life connection,” from Sytar and, “so he must have been hot” from Harry.
I shake my head, “not particularly. Nice voice.”
“A not- hot backup. Sheesh India.”
“I’m not done. A few weeks later I went for a friend’s directorial theatre debut. Well, this guy was in it. And as I sat at the back of the auditorium watching the set being put in place, I suddenly hear him say thoughtfully, ‘India’.
I looked up and quaked out a ‘yes?’, he looks back, startled, and puzzles aloud, ‘no, umm.. sorry.. just thinking aloud.
I go back to pretending to read.”
The other two are looking at me suspiciously.
I grin, “So now if love doesn’t happen to me, I’m going to happen to it. I’m going to track this guy and proposition him and the very idea of it is enough,” I gather breath, “for what is love if not anticipation, for what is love if not hope and adventure..” I’m catching steam, my eyes are just about to start gazing when the waiter reappears with a chocolate truffle.
Straight-faced he says, “Patsy?”
As the girls burst out laughing, I mutter a yes.

I am Jack's Burning Rage

In tribute to all of us in the world working dead end jobs, staring at computer screens and waiting to grasp/ create that one stairway to employment heaven, i am going to post one of the poems India wrote when she was in a job rut and watching her ideas run by while she sat on the sidelines.

I'm born of the wind and the fires it stokes,
The earth my feet should not feel.
I rage as he burns and weep as she blows,
But still the earth holds on to my feet.
I run and run to shake off my tormentor
But now my parents don't seem to know me.

Waiting Atop the Empire State Building

I write this for those who understand.. and the others I care nothing for.. so said Ayn Rand about Fountainhead.. (and felt about most of her works, I think). I wish I could say the same.. but I don’t think I'm that self actualized yet.

Like all the best writers I'm writing a love story... and to top them I'm filling it with love affairs. The first began on a regular day in school.. pigtails, knee length socks, an as- yet- unspotted- face (hormones kicked in soon after). I had no idea that I'd start so young or that a teacher would force me into the meeting- but she did. She told me of him and I couldn't wait. That very day I stayed up till 3 cavorting with him. He was rather correct but first love is first love.. and I knew no better for the next 2 years. Fitzgerald Darcy walked into my life.. a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.. and truly I have never wavered from that edict since. Every man I meet is a possible. And why not? They don't know better.. unless they have Darcy's good sense to come up to me and say 'long have I struggled..' yada yada and profess their undying love.

As the years have passed he has mellowed in my mind and become the one I remember with fondness.. first flush and tenderness. I owe him my loyalty and sweetness but can he bloody his head for me? Will he wring and writhe and torment himself and me as only the deepest, darkest love can? The question came and feeling guilty I locked it away.. but then I met Heathcliff. Bye bye Darcy. I love you, I really do.. but this man is for me. Darcy understood. Stayed in the shadows and watched me pick up another man.

Heathcliff is less tolerant, he won't let me love another. What started one purple streaked evening has become forever. Nothing less will do.
I meet other men and sometimes I love them a little, I admire them and wonder about their minds. Take Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov.. wouldn't one want to talk to him? Why does he wander so? 'Lies lead us to the truth'.. and he could have been one lie for me on the way. Or Aragon.. now there's a man that I could never be sure whether to love or just be awed by? Like Eowyn I mistook respect for love. We girls do that once in a while. He suits Arwen better. No regrets there. And then there was Roark.. the one man who tempted me beyond fidelity. Just as capable of stirring agony. As earthy, as single mindedly passionate. He spoke of his work and I felt he was God about to create man. Such was his power.
I found that he was taken.. a friend had loved him for years and one thing a girl can never do is poach on a friend's territory. There are many fish in the sea and about as many emotions.

Sometimes I wish that I had met Heathcliff a little later. But shit happens.(I'm mixing my references… but movies are so succinctly spot on).
I guess you've just got to live with the man written for you.

----

This is dated years ago.. I have it on good authority (which means India was yakking as usual).. that since then she has been owned by Francisco Domingo Carlos Andres Sebastian D'anconia in part and Atlas Shruggred in full. She is resolutely keeping Heathcliff locked away. This time I wonder who shall win.