This Love Must Go On

Leon

Leon

Some mornings had me thinking about the poem Grandpa used to recite when I was in kindergarten, Early to Bed, Early to Rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. Now, I believe that it didn't stand correct only for the children. And with due respect, Maximo was right that my skin was folding into wrinkles around the eyes because of lack of sleep. Early risers were said to have more time and energy to plan out their day. I floated sideways to cast a glance at my vibrating phone. It was around nine-thirty. Work calls and text chains yet to be answered. I leapt out of my bed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, picked up a shirt and slipped it on. I knew I slept in a little, but I didn't mind it because it was Thursday. The sunlight seeped into my room and the sky was dotted with fluffy clouds once I cracked open the window.

I briskly snapped a cardamom pod with my right hand while I turned on to check my phone with my left hand. The bubbling tea swirled inside the electric kettle like an angry sea until I poured it into my cup.

Next, I sat on a chair near the window, smelling the eucalyptus-scented breeze. On Thursdays, I usually kept away from work and pursued unwinding. Getting up early in rare cases, staring at the symphony of nature, playing old records and taking Lessie out for dinner. I had a feeling that maybe today my schedule would be pushed by three hours. I slurped my tea and enjoyed reading today's newspaper in sunlight filtered through the window. The current affairs didn't excite me as did the feature writing page. I made to sure effort to stay intentionally unproductive because it was Friday. A day I scheduled for no important meetings and work. My face was pressed against the pillow and my hand extended to check the time on the clock. It was ten thirty. Nothing unusual.

But the echoes of exasperations in the air, the ravages of footsteps through the lobby and the bewildered presence of Maximo at the door stood testament to some ferocious trouble that took place in a long time.

"What? The sun is dancing on our heads and your eyes are still raw from sleep."

"I think you completely forgot that today is Thursday." When my words didn't wipe out the existing astonishment on his face for a while I added, "I understand late reception comes with a certain age. Yesterday I was reading an article that stated, that sometimes when you look back on your life, your back hurts. No problem," I resorted to my way of sarcasm and lifted my teacup. "Good morning, Maximo."

"Get dressed and come downstairs."

"Any special occasion? Tell them to come tomorrow." I continued to skim through the playlists on my tablet.

"Leon! Not a call from work."

"Then who are you talking about?"

"She is waiting for you. She has something to say."

"She?" I paused and recalled after giving a distasteful look. "Oh, that girl from last night, isn't gone yet?"

"She's been saying the same thing over and over again. . . that she's your wife."

"Didn't you think twice before bringing this to me? You should know that this only shows how incompetent you are in handling this stupid- trivial situation?" I resumed snickering and continued closing my eyes, "Throw her out."

"Leon if you could just give her a chance to talk to you."

"I have been giving her everything from help, a room to sleep and now the fettuccine Alfredo for breakfast, for all I care-" I said in a stern tone and got to my feet as I heard a loud glass-shattering noise, accepting a serious poise. "That sound. Maximo, did you hear it? Loud enough to indicate the object has fallen from a height."

"I hope it's not-"

"A chance find." I ended his sentence doubtfully rather remorsefully. "From the late eighteen century."