72. "Say it for God's Sake, Say it" Part XVII

From my peripheraI vision, I glimpsed him entering the office at the beginning of the following week, with the same air of composure and unflappability. And after a few shuttling trips between the coffee machine and Tom’s office, wherein he had stationed himself, chatting for most of the duration, he finally entered my office when the opportunity offered. His familiar footstep heralded his entry, but I lacked the least desire to raise my head, much less welcome him. The pile of papers before me had become my only asylum, wherein I buried my slaughtered pride under a tumultuous sea of shock and pain. Desperation had eventually taken me over, bringing up an incapacitated calm, which challenged and subdued his silence as he stood near my desk. “I’m leaving at the end of this week,” he proclaimed calmly. “You’re going to follow me in about two months.” He dictated his unilateral plan with an air of vexatious sureness.

I had always seen so much love and affection in his eyes not to recognize it when I lifted my head up, and looked at him for a few brief moments. My heart jerked and missed a beat; his eyes were, as ever, warm and most loving, tender and smiling ahead of his mouth. I said nothing, though; I just returned to my papers; words seemed way beyond me. Well, the callous insensitivity of his statements killed and buried the words that were suffocating in my throat. Not only did I feel so taken for granted as to have my right of say, or share in “his” plan, fully confiscated, but I was also rendered so susceptible by my love for the same man who had, ironically enough, fought for the emancipation of my emotions. Groping to make connection with the hodgepodge of my shattered emotions, I was seized by a gigantic wave of rage that was only subdued by another more powerful numbing wave that swept over my body, and extinguished whatever signs of life that might have still existed in me. I could only maintain the silence of the dead.

Having waited futilely for an answer, he finally left the room after a few moments of heavy silence. Tears flowed not long afterwards. Fury commiserated and offered solace. Despite the numbing effect of conflicting emotions, I was aware of Fury suddenly leaving the room in what seemed to be an abrupt haste. But I was too pre-occupied with the stream of thoughts and sensations that assailed me to wonder about her doings, or even to see it as odd that she had left me alone at such a needy time. A short while later, realizing that my box of tissues was empty, I stepped wearily to Jack’s desk to draw a few sheets from his box to wipe my tears. When I turned to get back to my seat, my heart dived to my feet, and I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured forcefully on my head. I saw him leaning on the wall of the hallway that was adjacent to my office, on the face of it listening to Fury, who seemed to be fully engaged in some sort of feverish talk. He soon realized that I had spotted them.

The choler that invaded my body seemed to have burned all my blood out. I tried my hardest to pull together whatever remnants of strength I had still had to help me get back to my chair. What does this idiot think she’s doing? I wondered in shocked indignation. She seems as if she is trying to talk him into something. Is she begging him to re-propose, or what?

Those few moments of waiting for Fury’s return seemed like eternity. My ire ate at me, and the pain of my slaughtered ego soared. I will kill you; I will; just wait, you idiot.

Deeply engrossed with my volatile threats and menaces, I didn’t hear those familiar footsteps re-approaching. I was only awakened by the same tender voice, “Lu …. We need to talk; could we, you and I, step out of the building for a few moments?”

As he stood close to the left of my desk, apparently waiting for a reply to his request, I leaned over, and grabbed my purse from under my desk, seeking the valium tablets that had become suddenly essential, bringing also in the movement the corner hem of my skirt flying up along with the angry snatch of my bag, exposing my knee, and almost half of my thigh. Well, a swift springing to the action of covering up while being drowned in the sweat of bashfulness would have been the normal recourse in such an “awfully embarrassing” situation. But for the first time, I couldn’t care less. I just put the bag in my lap, and carried on with my rummaging for the ampoule in the numerous pockets of my bag, totally negligent of the knee, or the half exposed thigh. Ironically, this ampoule was the same one that he had given me at some point earlier to alleviate the stress that he had caused. Much to my surprise, the thought of our marriage being a foregone conclusion still held sway, despite all the excruciating anger that was boiling inside me, and the agony that had been accumulating for weeks. The reassuring thought intervened, So what if he saw my leg? Isn’t he going to be my husband in a few weeks? It pacified my sense of guilt as well inclined me towards acceding to his request. First, however, I took off to the water cooler to down the valium. When I returned, he, composed and collected, welcomed me with an encouraging smile. I looked at him, and said, “Let’s go”.

To Be Continued..............................................