The Sting

Surprise beats even the strongest. A man with no information or fore-warning is akin to a dead man. And so is the man who downplays the magnitude of the dangers lurking around him.
I had to learn this the hard way; the lesson jostling me into a state of wide wakefulness.

Before I got married, my bachelor status accorded me some liberal benefits, which saw me date and flirt with a number of girls who floated within or above the benchmark of my dream girl. I thought that was really good and enjoyed every bit of it.

That was to last until Panda came along, and this new thing called Love entered the scene. Love is selfish (or ladies are) and soon almost all my free time was lavishly spent adoring my new found dove—a habit I loved cultivating, culminating into an unyielding addiction. I loved this one girl, and for her I had to let go of the other girls I had gathered in my social portfolio.

This caught many girlfriends by surprise, and a strong venomous resistant ensued that saw me receive belligerent phone calls and questioning smses and sometimes live confrontations. However, walking down the aisle made everyone reconcile with the reality of acceptance, and somehow the cynical confrontations died away. Grateful and relieved. I relaxed into my blissful ’happily-ever-after’ life.

Now expecting our first born, I have been busy counting months to D-day. Three months down, six to go! Pretty excited have I been! Changes have come that I have had to contend with, most of which have been met in stride. As the responsible hubby. I have been at the fore front in encouraging and accommodating my wife. And that I have enthusiastically done to the best of my ability. Changing my sleeping and wake up habits, a change of diet (this one hit me hard. I hate kunde and managu), being the cook, the lullaby singer, the porter…name it!

The first week of March saw Panda expressing all the signs of a dedicated monk. She suddenly got disinterested in sex, and even a vein hint of it repels her. In its place, she developed an insatiable craving for cuddling. I had to contend with long hours of cuddling and whispering sweet nonsense. God forbid! For once, there was a situation that was totally hard to contain. Lack of conjugal satisfaction is a recipe for stress in itself, and my frustration at not getting any of it saw me sometimes moody and withdrawn. Since there was nothing she could do about it. Panda retreated into the bedroom during such spells to give me some space to get my sanity back, which I normally did after a few hours. I vainly tried envisioning how I will ever get along well without this vital matrimonial ingredient.

‘What sort of evil symptom is this?’ I wondered in unbelief.

‘This is a symptom of a good party!’ Shouts Mike excitedly, gesturing towards the crowd of colleagues abuzz in a jolly chitchat. Mcrae & Allen* is celebrating its 20th anniversary since its inception as a publishing firm. I turn in time to catch the red bow tie of Mcrae Junior, laughing with a bunch of foreigners, his chubby cheeks puffed in uncontrollable laughter. His father is gesturing nonchalantly to a few government representatives who are paying him more attention than necessary.

It is a bright night, with a full moon and a galaxy of stars. A perfect night for a cupid date. It is unfortunate that Panda couldn’t make it. She would have loved staring at the stars and conducting a futile galaxy counting exercise. Of late she has been tired most of the time and prefers to sleep the night away. I miss her.

‘Cheer up man, Mike* urges noting my dull attitude. He frantically summons at a waiter. ’Come on, take some of this,’ he says, shoving a glass of scotch into my hands. ‘Really helps.’ I take the drink, swirl it and down in one go. The alcohol warms its way into my tummy, courses through my veins into my brain. It works some magic and soon I start warming up to his conversation. Not long afterwards, we are in a wrestle of words, trying to out do each other in a show of football prowess.

Mike is a good man, and bosom buddy in Mcrae & Allen. He is the general manager, hardworking and honest. His ‘one man, one wife’ policy cemented our friendship after I married Panda. We look like a bunch of prodigal outcasts, standing there, separated from the rest, engulfed in our own world of comrade banter. And we like it.

‘Hi guys!’ a shrill of a voice cruelly cuts into our current Obama conversation. We turn to an over enthusiastic Marilyn giggling loudly, obviously high. She moves towards me.

‘Lee, please drop me home. I am worn out. My car is in the garage.’ This is not a good sign. Obviously she had smelled the absence of my wife. Such powerful instincts are not welcome at this time—worse still, when the subject is Marilyn.

She was Mike’s assistant. She joined the firm two years ago. Then, I was still a bachelor. Being the only singles at Mcrae,we had forged some friendship in the course of duty and even had a few coffee dates together. I never really had a thing for her, but I appreciated her company so somehow kept the flirting going. When I announced my intention to wed Panda, she never made an obvious fuss. Hers were the cold stares worth a million words. I worked hard to avoid her.

But now, I am surprised to see her acrid look replaced by pleading glances. For some reason, I feel her gesture deserves a reward. I decide to take her home, again for old time’s sake. Mike does not seem to be amused at my benevolence. He gives me a knowing look and heads for his car.

It’s a five minutes drive, and soon l am helping Marilyn, who is too plastered to do anything, find the right key to her door from a big bunch. I open and help her inside a tastefully furnished apartment. ‘Good night Marilyn,’ I say as I place her keys on the table. ‘Not so fast,’ she says standing up. ‘I haven’t said my good night yet.’

Marilyn’s version of a goodnight is extremely luscious. The hug is so close and grinding, and I can smell her erotic perfume. Her warm breath makes my neck tingle as she wraps her arms around me in a vice like urgency that betrays her earlier frailty. I suddenly become aware of her as a woman. The feelings suppressed deep inside me over the month, well up like a tsunami. I am beginning to lose myself. My conscience is grieving at my actions shouting. ’Stop!’ But my flesh is insatiable, just wants more of this.

‘How could you do this to me?’ she moans, dragging me to the seat. ‘You knew I loved you.’

I know where this is heading and suddenly get scared. The thought of me cheating makes me guilty as hell. I muster all the strength I have and yank myself to my feet, tearing through the barrier of arms and stagger backwards, toppling over the table and falling down hard on the ceramic floor. Pain wells up my head after it bangs a flower pot. Pain aside, I know I need to dive out of this house before the two of us burst into flames that would consume our morals. ‘Where do you think you are going?’ I hear Marilyn shriek in the back ground.

I head to my car running like a man under a hail of angry bees. I start the engine and back out furiously, spraying asphalt on my wake. I whiz past the night guards who wake up with a start, confused at my rude interruption to an otherwise still night.

I am in pain as I drive. The fall is having its brutal effect on my whole body. It is hard to concentrate on the road. But I keep moving. More distance between me and Marilyn is what I need. I no longer trust her ‘broken down car in the garage’ theory.

I know the physical pain is just a tip of the iceberg. More pain is on the way: the sting of how close I came to cheat on my dear Panda. I know for sure her reaction would be volatile if not venomous. But I have to tell her. Shutting up is a humongous crime, which I cannot afford to add on to the existing treason charges in my head. Best she hears it from me, I am ready for that sting.
*Not real name

END: PG21/52 and 54