Illicit Affair

i. memories

The roar of the sky is deafening, as though a million drummers agree to roll their drums simultaneously. Rain follows; and it sounds like woodpeckers pecking on the roof. I count from one to ten before getting up. The cold sensation of the storm seeps through my tan skin. But I always like the chilly weather since it's mostly a year long summer in the country. My skull feels like exploding after all the beer I emptied last night. I stand up and the world seems to be moving in all sorts of twisty directions.

My studio-type apartment is dimly-lit but after living here for almost three years now, I already memorized its twists and turns to reach the bathroom. I splash myself with cold water from the faucet to feel other than the explosion in my head. The bitter taste of the beer was all good last night, until it made me curse myself in the morning for all the hang over it brought me. I can neither remember how many bottles of beer I have had, nor how I arrived in my place. All I remember is I want to forget.

Slightly, the water refreshens me. And my own reflection stares back at me from the rectangular mirror above the white-tiled lavatory. My medium-length dark, thick messy hair loosely and freely falls from my head. I have dark circles under my dark brown downturned eyes, caused by lack of sleep for almost five days already. My nose is straight and pointed, while my wide lips are slightly blackish due to smoking. People around me say that my biggest assets are my strong chins and sharp jaws. I also have this uneven beard since I wasn't fond of making myself look good these past days.

I still wear my crumpled ash grey polo shirt and khaki pants from yesterday. I could remember that I didn't bother changing clothes the moment my body hit the comfort of my bed. I strip myself bare and decide to take a cold shower. The tiny droplets of water spluttering on my naked body are cold but they are nothing compared to the coldness my heart has endured for the past days. I stay in the shower for a couple of minutes before drying myself.

The storm outside still doesn't show any hint of calmness. I grab a cotton white sweater and boxers shorts. This particular Saturday was all planned-out, until Helena decided to break my heart in a way that can never be whole. We were supposed to stay in this beautiful and soothing resort for the whole week because it's our fourth anniversary. Who would have thought that an innocent-looking lady can be a maiden of cruelty? All of my colleagues in the office knew that I'd be taking a whole week off, so what am I supposed to do next week? They still don't know that Helena and I broke up. And I don't like being the center of attention if I suddenly barge in the office.

I drink two glasses of water to lessen the snapping sensation on my head, and because my throat feels rough and dry. I make myself an avocado toast and egg. I remember the days when Helena used to make delicious breakfast for me. She's the one who taught me this simple recipe, and I can't help my heart from breaking.

Absentmindedly, I eat my breakfast.

Since I was the one who booked the hotel accommodation, the reservation is under my name. I could still go to the resort in the South, faraway from the busy city. But who am I kidding? The solitude in a place where romance should be all over the place would probably kill me. I am pretty sure if I'd be there, my head will be full of Helena. However, I couldn't simply report to the office next week-- it's my planned vacation leave for one whole week. My colleagues would surely bombard me with questions about what happened.

What should I do?

"Damn it!" I mutter to myself. The storm is still raging outside. And I can now hear the whistling of the wind. Perhaps, I can simply stay at home until this week is over. In that way, I don't have to report to the office, and won't have to face my officemates. At first, it seems to be a good idea, but after realizing that I'd be alone, it isn't appealing anymore.