It's results day.
I should be more anxious about this. That's what everyone keeps telling me anyway. This could be the moment that your life changes forever. This could be the day that will haunt you for the rest of your life. The day that you start changing everything you think, say and do, constantly on edge wondering what horrors are in store around the corner.
No. This isn't going to be that day. This is just another day. One that I'll forget about tomorrow morning because, quite frankly, nothing interesting is going to happen. Clara will get a phone call, hear the good news and we'll celebrate with sushi. That will be guaranteed to bring a smile to her perfect face. And it will be like everything is new again.
I never understood sushi until I met her. I was much more into burgers and pizza and hot dogs. You know the stuff I mean. The meaty stuff that always makes you feel like a beast whenever you're done devouring the whole lot. So much grease dripping off them that you could fill an entire bathtub and have some slimy shower to remind you of just how bad your eating habits have become. But you didn't care, because it tasted so damn fucking good. And if something tastes good, then what do a few hundred calories matter, right?
Turns out you don't have to eat gallons of fat to enjoy a meal. I could never get my head around it when she giggled at my eating habits. Told me that if I wasn't careful, all that 'fatty goodness' would go straight to my boney hips and I would be waddling around like an overweight penguin. As much as the image amused me, I was intrigued to see what it was that she thought was delicious food.
Turns out that was sushi. Shapes of packed rice, covered in slices of delicate fish. Rolls of rice stuffed with more seafood delight and held in place by a thin cut of seaweed. Vegetables diced finely and rolled into even more rice. Rice, rice, rice. I never used to like it, but now I love the damn stuff. Lather it in soy sauce and a dash of wasabi, and you've bagged yourself a winner.
Sushi is our celebratory food. You can't have it too often, she says. Otherwise, where would the enjoyment be? If you had it every day, you'd just get bored of it. That's what she told me. And she's right. If I eat too much of a good thing, I go straight off it. Prawn crackers were my recent loss. I miss the taste sometimes. But even if I glimpse one, my stomach does somersaults. I find it better to avoid them, and maybe someday my desire for them will return.
So sushi it will be. Followed by a hot bath that I will gracefully run. Not so gracefully enter, of course. Being a man, we don't do heat. At least, not in the forms of baths. I won't go into much detail there, but we're sensitive souls. Woman have much more tolerance. But I'll suffer. I'll suffer anything to see her smile after such great results.
After that one smile a couple of weeks ago, we haven't really achieved another one since. There's been grimaces here and there to try and convince me that she's alright, but I know her. I know her back-to-front. She can fool everyone else around her with her plastered on smile and overly-cheerful persona. But she can't fool me. She's terrified and no amount of tickling and funny faces will cheer her up.
People tell me I'm too laid back. I suppose they're right. It's both a blessing and a curse. The menial things in life that bother those hot-heads that worry about literally everything never seem to phase me. I'm always late, no matter what the occasion. That's not always happened, its just developed in the past few years. Along with that became the tendency to oversleep and the lack of want to tidy my room. Drives my friends, and most likely Clara, up the wall. I just find it hilarious.
Those are menial things, however. I also find myself not taking anything seriously when it most definitely is a serious situation. I simply avoid the issue until needed. Why worry yourself until you know the stone cold facts, anyway? It's worthless and, more likely than not, untrue.
