Con Fuoco (1/2)
<strong class="bbc">C - Con Fuoco
Weird … completely mind boggling - doesn’t even begin to cover the rundown of today - Yuri decided. And it all seemed to coincide with the arrival of the larger than life redhead who had proven in the short span of office hours that she perhaps did not have a soul after all.
Unfastening the skinny tie-noose around his neck he fell back into his bed after his mind had given up on rationalising the events at the office. There was no m class="bbc" style="color:rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">silence even in silence he realised as he lay there in the sea of blankets. The crickets had begun to rub their spiny little legs together creating occasional chirps from, he assumed, the bushes. Through the double layer of bricks his wall was made of the faint sounds of night drivers honking could be heard and the gushing, yes the ever-present gushing of wind, silent as an assassin whirled through and through. The suite of night music gave his strained ear peace and his strained mind solace as his body soon gave way to the overwhelming numbness of slumber which took hold and dosed off.
It could’ve been a second later or three or an hour but, like a sesame street segment of which one is not like another; a monstrous sound which did not belong pulled him out of his rest trance as the sharp sound of bottles clinking echoed in the dank air. Who makes house calls at 2 am?
m class="bbc" style="color:rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Please let it be windchimes.
Yuri fought a groan as his body became more aware and awake by the minute, eyes still firmly shut grasping onto the last straws of torpor. He reasoned it could be the neighbours’ cat pushing over the milk delivery.
No one delivers milk in 2012, not in glass bottles at least.
Alright – logical reasoning Yuri, he ground his back teeth together as if mincing the entire idea of consciousness. There was a dull thud, followed by an undeniable pop habitual of his suction lined refrigerator and at that moment curiosity took over much to his own dismay leaving the whites of his open eyes gleaming reflective of the moonlight.
Doing the one thing which required only his common sense he made for the thickest volume of his Atlas World Book collection and closed the door behind him. Each heart thumping step was punctuated with a wild thought.
What if the intruder was a life sentenced serial murderer who had a penchant for timely taxpayers?
What if there’s more than one? A bit too dramatic.
Maybe if he surrendered and begged for mercy he’d be left off the hook?
Now’s not too late to turn back into his room and pretend like he’d never heard the noise.
Before his mind could register his toes came into contact with the cold flooring of the kitchen and it became officially too late to run away and scream “MUMMY!” A shadow concealed behind the open door of his standing refrigerator did not make any sudden movements and either did not notice his entrance or paid no heed to it.
Feeling the blood rush valiantly to his head and hopefully his limbs he closed his eyes in forfeiture as he slowly raised the content heavy encyclopaedia above his head rounding in on the perpetrator and whispered a little: “Oh God.”
With an immaculate whoosh the outer pages fluttered as an unexpected high pitched shriek followed the impact of his literary weapon.
Startled, he gave an uncompelled and unmanly short lived scream as the fridge door pushed close.
There, in his kitchen, bent over a head of savoy cabbage and a closed leftover box of lemon chicken was Tiffany Hwang in all her natural glory nursing the blade of her shoulder and seething at him with the hatred of stolen lunch money.
“Is this how you express your inner misogynist? By clobbering a woman with an encyclopaedia? Because if this is your idea of education you’ve got another thing coming and it begins with 911.”
“I-“ Genuinely surprised, Yuri babbled, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, speechless like a fish. “I’m sorry?” He leant in to offer her a hand but she brushed herself off the ground and stood up.
Waving a cheese stick about in the air she lectured him, “Is that your big plan on justice? Taking care of the women in the world, one volume at a time? Who defends themselves with a book anyways? Don’t you have a bat? What kind of man are you?”
At this point Yuri had officially mentally and physically resigned by placing himself in the somewhat safer setting of a bar stool. Being continuously cut off while trying to justify himself was difficult at best but now damn near impossible with Tiffany wielding the machine gun of questions mostly rhetorical and absolutely all-condemning.
Waiting for her to take a breath as his cue he slowly rewarmed his bit down statements.
“It’s… none of your business.”
The microwave dinged in the far corner and now taking the time to process the environment Yuri could distinctly pick out the scent of microwaved pizza.
“Why – what are you doing in my house anyway?” realising he had the upper hand in the situation he suddenly grew indignant.
“Sleep-eating?” She offered as if the most natural reply in the world.
“You m class="bbc" style="color:rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">know that breaking and entering is a crime. How did you even break in? No. No – I don’t even want to know just tell me if I have to clean up any broken glass or have any windows repaired.”
“The real question is” she peeled the plastic wrap off the greasy take away surprisingly delicately, “why a man of twenty something has dietary cola in his fridge.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“That’s evasion, you smoothed your brow, that’s your tell.” She grinned before cracking open a bottle of premium lager.
“You do know that I can call the police and have you put in the slammer for the night, right?”
“I cut the lines.” She said in between mouthfuls of cheesy pizza and Chinese takeaway.
“YOU WHAT?!” He snatched the plate from underneath the redhead earning a disapproving glare. He could care no less as he felt the blood slowly rise to his head “You did what? WHY would you do that? YOU’RE MAD YOU KNOW THAT? You know what? It doesn’t matter, if I pull the alarm - the police - they won’t let you get away with this!”
“Do you also believe that sexy singles in your area are waiting to meet you?” She rolled her eyes before snatching back the cheese stuffed crust. “Get real Timmy, Tommy, whatever your name is, nothing’s going to happen.”
“Yuri.” He corrected but she was no longer listening.
He wanted more than anything to bash his head on the counter and scream m class="bbc" style="color:rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">IS THERE NO JUSTICE? But that would be tragically ironic and he wished to be neither. The longer he sat there watching her scarf through his food supply the more bizarre it all became.
The absurdity of the situation escalated as Yuri watched the mountain on her plate slowly dwindle to a few scraps, spent in equal parts of admiration and confusion.
He tapped the countertop with his fingers feeling slightly intrigued.
“So now that you’ve emptied my fridge and helped yourself to my booze are you going to invite yourself to a sleepover?”
She seemed so at ease in his home he couldn’t help but to wonder how well she had acquainted herself to his apartment the last time she had intruded. More importantly, why he wasn’t hell bent, as any normal person would be in his shoes, to push her out of his home. Perhaps the side of him which was a single “man of twenty something” as she put it was more at play. Under any other circumstances, he might even have been a little excited.
“Normally I would but under the circumstances I don’t want to push it.” She placed a tentative hand under her chin but maintained wicked eye contact.
“Since when?”
“Oh all right, you’ve twisted my arm.” She grinned before looping an arm around his. Only now did he feel the impact of living a lonely bachelor life as he became acutely aware of his personal space or lack thereof. Twisting in her seat, she retrieved a tote bag from behind her.
Speculative, he asked: “What’s in there?”
“Pyjamas of course. And then we’re going to braid each other’s hair and gossip until our menstrual cycles synchronise.” She snarked all too comfortably.
Taking a deep, m class="bbc" style="color:rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">deep breath Kwon Yuri shook his head wondering which gods out there had it against him sending him a person like Tiffany who he just couldn’t say no to.
***
Obviously Yuri needed a definition revision on the term “pyjamas” but it was as swift as it was merciful and she was soon covered underneath his duvets and he, holding his pillow relocated to the sofa bed. In the case of Tiffany Hwang however, a flash was sufficient to fuel the mind for ages to come. It was a flash of midnight blue, silky and altogether too enticing but perfectly Tiffany.
By the time he had made himself comfortable the overwhelming tiredness caught up to him and through the crack of his eyes he peered at the digital clock before falling haplessly into slumber.
***
He woke up with a jolt to the digital mosaic of 8bit alarm, disorientated and unconscious at best. It wasn’t until he had all but climbed into his bathroom that he remembered he was not alone.
“That’s m class="bbc" style="color:rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">my toothbrush.” He grunted but it soon tapered into a less abrasive tone as his eyes traced Tiffany’s black painted toenails up her long lean legs to a batman raglan tee of his.
The length was just long enough to keep him guessing whether she was wearing shorts or just underwear underneath. Slightly choked for oxygen and blood flow to his vital organs he removed his gaze.
The plastic handle of the toothbrush parted the side of her lips with a trace of toothpaste foam as she rinsed, “Now you know what you can get me for Christmas” she smiled before reaching for his towel.
“You have no sense of privacy whatsoever.” Yuri paced barefoot on the tiles. In combination with his oddly standing bed hair it was quite a right sight.
“Need I remind you that you barged into m class="bbc" style="color:rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">my house and invited yourself over? Don’t even get me started on my telephone lines. Oh God I don’t even know if the super fixes these – he’s going to up my rent if I ask for maintenance.”