anniversary

It is a warm Friday night; the sun had just rolled over the glimmering, pink horizon splashing shades of blue all over the evening sky. It is about quarter past six and my heart thumps excitedly within my burning chest as I wait for my beloved soul mate to return to our love nest. The house sparkles in the dim yellow light of the floodlights, so do I. My hair is tucked neatly in place, perfectly curled it cascades all over my bare back, the short summer dress swaying gently. Tonight is our anniversary, 10 years as Eric and I had married, and I am tingling with excitement from head to toes, as I over flow my imagination with all these crazy ideas of our plans for tonight. Knowing that man, I allow my self the exotic thoughts of Paris or perhaps Hawaii or a crazily romantic dinner where it it’s just him and I and no one else. He was always that sort of man, who loved to spoil me, from the first moment I had laid my eyes on him he was throwing the most original, expensive presents that any woman can even dream of. He was the perfect man. I remember that since high school many girls wanted to take over my position as his girlfriend and then a wife. We had never been apart since, although two weeks ago he had to depart to Prague due to some kind of emergency at work and tonight is the night that he is coming back so I am bursting with excitement. I sit on the porch, cross-legged, listening to the calm splashes of the ocean; the rhythmic ticking of my new expensive watch makes me incredibly impatient. My husband is late. Surely the plane has already landed?
I check my cell phone for any messages or miscalls that I might have missed as I was getting ready but there were none. This is rather strange for my husband not to leave me a single message if he is running late, especially on such occasion. In fact we haven’t really spoken for few days now, maybe even a week but I let it escape my mind. I stand up, irritated and rather worried, and make my way to the kitchen, which I scrubbed down the whole morning, polishing it to perfection. I flick on the kettle, and listen to it rumbling as the water heated up, meanwhile I take out a massive blue jar of Nescafe Gold and pour some of the contents into my favorite yellow mug. The clock dins 7 o’clock; I flick the switch on the kettle and pour scalding hot water into the mug, stirring its contents gently. The front door slams, grumpy, tiered sigh fills the hallway and it bounces of the bare walls, I listen to the sloppy feet make their way into the kitchen.
“Is the dinner ready yet?” an unshaven, tiered looking face appears in the arch, and evaluates the empty kitchen.
“No, I thought we were going out to dinner” I have a sneaky feeling that my beloved one had long forgotten about our anniversary and that I can kiss my crazy night out goodbye.
“Why would you assume that?” he looked up at my stunned face that I have been pampering the whole evening for his benefit.
“I s’pose you’ve forgot then. Never mind” I turn around, feeling hot tears prickling at my eyelids, holding my self together I make my way to the kitchen backdoor.
“Fuck, now I have to order takeaway…” I could hear him grumbling as I shut the door behind my self. As I have a positive outlook on life and I am too hopeful for my own good I just stand and stare behind the darkened glass of our kitchen door, at a man that I addressed as my husband. I wonder if it was some kind of test or a trick and that he would come out any second now laughing and saying “Ha! See I got yah!” but as every second passes by I wonder if this is all real. I watch him dial KFC as he plumps him self into a stool and picks at his teeth. I highly doubt that it’s going to be a romantic night after all.

I plump my self onto the front steps of our house and take in a deep breath in effort to calm my self down. How could he forget? Am I that unimportant to him now days that he cannot even make a little effort and show me that I am still significant? I guess not. I ruffle my rich locks and plant my face into my palms; I could feel the whole world being alive while I am stuck here all on my own. Missing out. Straitening my brand new dress bought for the occasion, I walk past the living room window and observe Eric slumped in the couch fast asleep, snoring with the remote control glued to his hand. With a heavy, disappointed sigh I look up at the blooming orchids and spot a mysterious figure shifting in the dark, slowly but steadily it approached me. From a solid looking outline of a human being, the streetlight drew out a handsome face of a young man with a charming enigmatic smile, like the ones you’d see in those glossy magazines. He wore a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, which hang loosely over his tight, dark blue jeans. His silky, lengthy hair scattered over his forehead and hang over his twinkling green eyes. One of his big strong hands clutched a bottle of red wine, while the other one brushed through his locks as he came a little too close to me. He smiled.
“Good evening” with a free hand he searched mine and held it to his gentle, soft lips, “What such beautiful young woman doing all by her self at this late hour?” I could feel myself blush.
“I was asking my self the same question” I giggle nervously and wonder where this guy actually came from. I mean the whole territory of the house is blocked out by a massive wall with video cameras in all corners spying on the trespassers. “How did you get in here?” I heard my self question him.
“Well you see I was just on my way somewhere and I saw your gate wide open and wondered if everything was alright. I’m your new pool boy by the way”
“Oh I see” I didn’t understand at all his explanation, my husband never leaves the gate opened and there is no way on earth people like this guy could be pool boys, not with his looks, “Well everything is just fine” I lie, “I was just getting some fresh air”
“Are you sure?” he smiled concerned. I throw a glance at the house; from where I stood I could see my husband fast asleep, and to my and his surprise I burst out with hot tears. Before I knew what was going on he pressed my face to his chest, gently stroking my curled up hair. “I am so sorry”
“It’s alright” I sob and inhale his exotic scent, paralyzed in shock.
“I feel so bad” he parted our bodies gently, lifting up my chin with just a finger, “Let me make it up to you.”
“Huh?” this guy was so weird and everything was going to fast I could feel my head spin. He just came out of nowhere and is now rescuing me from my depressing night. I have never had experience with a total stranger who would come in such intimate contact with me, well at least not this fast. This guy just let himself stoke my hair and give me hugs, so why should I go with him? I could hear a little nagging voice at the back of my head- “because he is so damn gorgeous.”
“Come with me” and before I have a chance to speak he grabs my hand, and pulls me into the darkness of the garden.






We are walking in silence, along the shore towards an increasing bizarre noise of salsa music. It was a combination of laughter, drunken voices and yellow lights, perhaps fire torches and of course the lively beat that made my hips sway.
“Where is the music coming from?” I finally break the tension that by the looks of it only I feel.
“Ocean”
“Ocean?” I look carefully at the location of the party. Gently swaying on the calm surface there is a fancy looking boat camouflaged with the tropical background.