that second sunday in october, part 4

(Just a reminder that this is a FICTIONAL STORY here. Now let's pick up where we left off :O) ).
Part I: http://theboysquad.blogspot.com/2009/12/that-second-sunday-in-october.html
Part II: http://theboysquad.blogspot.com/2009/12/that-second-sunday-in-october-part-2.html
Part III: http://theboysquad.blogspot.com/2009/12/that-second-sunday-in-october-part-3.html

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Early Sunday morning found me in the driver's seat of my small, black Ford, steering in silence down 17th towards the flea market. I turned into the nearly empty lot and parked. It was still an hour before opening and I really didn't need to be here this early. It doesn't take much to open an orthopedic shoe insert stand. I reclined my seat slightly and rolled down the window, the car's interior filling with the sound of flower and fruit vendors setting up their tables--a combination of metal being drug across asphalt and garbled shouting--some in English, some in Spanish. Deeply inhaling, I tasted a slight tang in the ocean-flavored air blowing in from Newport.

Pink-tinged sunlight spilled across my lap, highlighting a few strands of gray cat hair on my pants. I methodically began picking them off holding them in pinched fingers outside the car window and watching as they rode the current of the slight breeze as I let them go. The movement of air against my hand and forearm felt good. It was still too hot. My mind stopped at the thought of heat. Heat...The image of Anupam and his sweaty brown-gold stomach, and the little fan, and that raised red polo shirt, and the heavy smell of meshed salt and sugar--all of it broke loose inside my mind. That is why I was here early. Because I couldn't sleep. I hadn't had any trouble sleeping....ever. Blissfully, I'd wake up with nothing on my mind except the list of things I had to do that morning. The list rarely or never changed: Take Mom breakfast, shower, dress, feed the cats, go to work. It was safe. It was predictable.

But at 5:30 this morning, I work up with an Indian accent lingering over my bed like it had moments ago been a part of me. I'd been dreaming, I think, though I never dream. There seemed something unsettling, almost dangerous, in lying there under the covers giving my thoughts any time to replay what they'd just experienced. I worked my way out of the tangle of blanket and headed for the shower--sticking to the routine of my day, just an hour and a half earlier than usual. I sat a tray next to Mom's bed with her breakfast and a note explaining my early departure, then paused to watch her for a minute--even working so hard for each breath, she seemed peaceful sleeping, her mouth pressed into a slight smile.

And now here I was, sitting in my car, an hour early for work, finding myself whispering Anupam's name again. The sound of it--the way it made me feel to hear it--activated something in me. Something spring-loaded. Something that was deeper than whatever attraction I suddenly felt for him. It came spiraling up through the center of me, hot and angry. I slammed my hands against the steering wheel, again and again, the wheel quivering beneath the blows.

"Damn it!" I yelled, "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" I could feel my heart thumping inside me, my chest heaving like a runner's. My hands stopped banging against the wheel and clutched it tightly instead. I glanced into the rearview mirror and saw my green eyes staring back at me. "What are we supposed to do with this?" I asked my reflection. The eyes blinked knowingly and then looked away. I wasn't ready for things to be different. I mean, things were good. Really. Just because I lived a simple life did not mean I was a simple person, but this just wasn't the time to build any more risk or potential for change into my life. I was needed. Right where I was. At home with my mother.

I drew in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, then blew it out slowly, releasing my grip on the wheel, "Why was I even entertaining these thoughts? What did it matter? Why would a reasonably attractive, educated man have any interest in the red-headed orthopedic kiosk lady anyway?"

The parking lot was starting to fill.

"It's just another Sunday" I assured myself, "get through today and go home. He'll be gone in a few days and then you've got all next week to get over it."

***TO BE CONTINUED***