COLD TREATMENT

There have existed four days since the scolding I received from Adrian, meaning it's a Friday. The sun has already gone down, dusk is taking over, and I am currently desolately straddled at our favourite locale in the kitchen, reminiscing about how horrible the week has been. I know I had said that my monthly cycle weeks are disastrous ones, but please, I take that back now. The cold and tight-lipped antidote I have received from Adrian these past four days is way too much and has not allowed me to rest.

He is awfully distant. We don't share coffee anymore. We don't talk, and if we do, it's only greetings, and maybe a question here and there which is only about his daughter. To top it all off, I was discontinued from taking Angel to and from school. He wakes up early to prepare her and drops her off at school then he proceeds to his work. In the evening, he sends the chauffeur to pick her up from school, and take her to him in his office. I am left here with almost no work at all, and the only thing I do to kill time is just calling home once a day because I honestly don't feel like talking to anyone. The situation is choking me.

I am still unequipped to decipher why the fallacy with Andy has encompassed me this much, but then I guess this is how someone feels when they discover that they have stung the feelings of their boss, especially in such a ridiculous run-down way like mine.

I am not furious with Andy for being wildly mad at me and admonishing me. I aggravated him. I should have known better that his daughter means everything to him. I should have glued to my lane and report the issue to him. But what did I do instead? I decided to play the smart guy. I knew how susceptible he is regarding matters about Angel, but still, I chose to please his daughter, without thinking of the implications of my action or the consequences. It didn't even bridge my silly mind just how all that would make him feel. Stupid me!!!

It's all my fault. I hope he is not waiting to pay me off and fire me. I can't afford to go back home and wait for the misfortunes to befall us, particularly now that I was told the bank gave us up to mid-next month to make our first payment. I don't want to visualize what will ensue if we don't get the money to make that payment. My family might become homeless and I can't bear that. Getting another job will be like hunting a white elephant, especially for people like us who don't have papers to present. I need to keep this one. I am crossing my fingers in the hope that Adrian will still want to hold me after this.

How ironic, huh? The lips that kissed me with so much passion one morning, are the same lips that spoke to me with so much resentment and abhorrence the same day evening! I can only imagine how disgusted he was with me, and still is, the same way I am with myself.

The most annoying fraction of all these is how that morning kiss has remained stuck in my mind even after everything that has ensued. It just feels so raw, like it occurred this morning, and I am finding it arduous to not flush it out of my mind. I so freshly recall the feeling of his touch and the sweet taste of his lips. The mare thought of that kiss makes me tremble with the longing for another touch, another kiss, another analogous feeling just like that.

Countless times, I have asked myself what the kiss meant to him. But how can I know that if even I don't know what it meant for me, or why I permitted it? All I know is that it felt sweet, it felt... so beautiful, it felt surreal, and I savour that little juncture. But then I ask myself again, did it feel right? The response is, yes, for reasons that I don't know.

My hair rises at the thought of kissing him again. I feel the urge to kiss him again. To feel my cheeks reddening in his palms, to feel his warm breath caress my nostrils. I want to feel myself melt in his hands, and taste his lips once again. I want to explore his mouth as he explores mine. Still, is it moral? Is it right to desire him in this weirdly lustful way? My boss? I don't know. I honestly don't.

My phone buzzes, snapping my mind from the world of the lost and confused. It's a strange new number, and since I don't feel like talking, especially to annoying unknown persons, I reject the call, and sip my already cold coffee. Yack! It's so horribly bitter when it's cold. Phthoo!!! I take the flask and pour a hot one into a different cup, and trash the cold one in the sink.

My phone rings again, indicating the same caller, and I put it into silent mode. My head is already full as it is, I will call back whoever is calling tomorrow. Perhaps my head will have cleared a little.

Before I can take a sip, I hear the front door opening, and I know it is Andy. Finally, I feel relieved. I wasn't even cognizant that I was anxious all the while, because they were not yet home. I take a sip of my coffee and I swear, this one tastes sweeter than the first cup.

I thought of going to meet them in the living room, but I slug that thought when I don't hear Angel's voice. The kid must have fallen asleep in the car like yesterday and the day before. Certainly, Adrian does not want to see my suffocating face. The thought of how disgruntled he is with me changed the flavour of coffee once again, because this sip that I just took doesn't taste anything close to sweet like the previous one. I toss it aside. I'm done with this stupid coffee tonight.

I rest my elbows on the table, placing my chin between my open plans, looking up with my eyes closed to the healing. I need some voice to whisper to me that things will be okay. I need a consoling sign to show me that things are still under control.

I don't know how long I have been mentally crying out to the heavens, but as if my prayers touched the hearts of the heavenly angels, I am startled by heavy footsteps at the doorway.

I stand up, turning to the entrance of the kitchen, my entire being almost getting paralysed by the sight of him.

ANDY?

The last time he strode inside this kitchen when I am in, was that cursed twilight of Monday. That cursed night he yelled at me with so much bitterness. Since then, he only comes in to take his coffee when I go to bed which I leave in the flask.

"Hi! How are you?" He asks, parking himself on a stool next to me and plopping his phone on the table.

How am I, huh? How do you expect me to be, Adrian Ashton? I mean, after relieving me of my main duty in this house and then going all tight-lipped and frigid on me?

That's what I want to scream at him, but I dare not. I compose myself. I don't want to add salt to the injury once more, and besides, I deserve this. Instead of unnecessary yelling, "I am okay," is what I bitterly force out of my mouth.

"Can I get a cup of coffee?" He asks after eyeing me from the hair to the toe.

"Sure, sir!" I say as I walk to grab his favourite mug, but he grabs my hand, making me stop on the spot. I can feel my body start reciting the Deja vou due to his touch, but I instruct my guards to stay strong. This is not the time to show him how effortlessly he arouses me.

"Sir? We are back to that again? What happened to Andy?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, boring deep into my orbs. I may be right or wrong, but I have a sense that he is not that mad at me. He is not the enraged Andy. I feel like he is the Andy I was so free with before that nasty mishap. My Andy!

Mine, huh?

Bitter sigh!