Jiraiya

The pain of heartbreak

 

They say a tree cannot make a forest, but a forest begins with just one tree. Little drops of water, makes the mighty ocean a breathtaking work of art starts with a touch of paint. These thoughts plague me like a fever. I never thought on these types of things until my disease struck.

I wondered:  What if I woke up one morning, only to discover that the good life I've been having, has all been a dream?

What if I looked out the window and I was greeted by the busy streets and dirty surroundings of the ghetto, instead of the large fenced mansion in which I reside?

Up until now, I had lived a life of privilege.  Money...education...fast cars...great job.  But sickness doesn’t care who it grabs and destroys. Now, I understand that life is a gift. I never thought how fast that my life could drastically change at a moment notice until now. I now know what is in the package of my existance. It’s the greatest joy to see the ones you love happy and know that you are a part of the reason for their happiness. Always!  From now on, before I act, I must consider...What if...?

Heartbreak makes one reflective; the mind begins to wander.  I think my name should be added to the names of great philosophers: Socrates, Aristotle, Descartes, Mahatma Gandhi, and the Dalai Lama. Or maybe I should study for a degree in Philosophy, —as I am beginning to sound like one.

Losing Gracen was like being shot in the chest...and surviving.   Every morning I wake to pain, and I feel like I am going to die faster. It's some days to Christmas and, as I watch the snow fall, memories of a previous Christmas flood my mind. How I and Gracen would decorate the tree together, she would poke me playfully in my side and run.  I would chase her around the house until we ended up in bed. We would cuddle while thick white snow fell outside.

Today they are nothing but memories, making me wish I was dead. This was surely going to be my worst Christmas.

*****

Karine

It was surely going to be a white Christmas this year. I made some food and ate with Mom at the kitchen table. She seemed to be in a lovely mood this morning, and didn’t seem depressed in the least. She smiled as she took bites from the cheesecake and gulped down nearly a full glass of cheap wine. I was glad to see her happy for a change.

“You know, you make it just like I used to,” my mom said, taking another bite and chewing with relish. I don't like how she brought up the past again but at least it made her happy, so it made me happy too.

“I know just how you like your cheesecake,” I answered, trying to take the attention away from her and focus it on me.

“You sure do,” she giggled as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Oh my, how did I forget to tell you?" I hit my forehead with the palm of my right hand.

"What's that?" she asked with unbelievable concern at the edge of her eyes.

"You won’t believe who I saw some days ago," I said, trying to strike another conversation. Her eyes turned back to me. I had her attention. I had always been a daddy’s girl and Mom knew it. It was just so darn hard for the both of us without him here. My dad was the first person that I ever told about my fascination with my ex-boyfriend.

“Who did you see, Karine?” my mom asked me with a smile across her face.

“I am sure it wasn’t a woman; you wouldn’t be beaming as much as you are right now. Did you by chance run into Timothy?”

Beaming; was I beaming? Oh my God, was it that obvious?

“No, thank God I didn’t run into Tim. I saw Jiraiya Sampson,” I tried to say with a straight face. Her eyes went AWOL for a bit and then she smiled, recollecting who I was referring to.

“Jiraiya? You mean the real estate multi-billionaire who dates the model that you used to gush over?” She looked at me with knowing eyes.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” I asked. I knew that my blush would have been obvious if it wasn’t for my dark skin.

"I remember the time you almost made me late because you could not take your eyes off the TV. That was when I was still myself and your dad was still here,” she had her gaze on the empty plate in front of her now. She always, somehow, had to bring Dad up in every conversation we had.

“Doctor Smith is coming over later in the afternoon, right?” I tried to move the topic to safe grounds again, not wanting to talk about Jiraiya anymore if it brought her sad memories. 

“Oh, let’s not talk about Doctor Smith. Let’s talk about Jiraiya. How is he? Does he still have those dazzling white teeth and dimples when he smiles? He must have grown more handsome than I imagine now,” she said and, boy, how right she was. Jiraiya had always been my one true eternal crush.

“He looked great, Mom and yes he still has the dimples when he smiles," I chuckled as I spoke.

Since Dad died and Amber left; Mom and I had become closer. I talked to her about almost everything that happened in my life. She was always there for me. Not like she had a choice, given her condition, but she was there anyway. It does feel good to have someone to talk to about things that matter in life.

“And?” she asked, knowing that I had not told her everything yet. Then she coughed, and I had to rush over to hand her a glass of water.

"I’m Okay, I’m Okay," she said pushing the glass of water away. "Go on,” she continued, urging me to speak.

“Although he looks a little pale, he is still very handsome, and it felt really good not seeing him with the model,” I admitted in a wry voice.

I suddenly checked the time and realized that I would be late for work if I didn’t hurry. I didn’t mind working straight through the holiday; I could use the extra money.

I let the shower cascade over my skin as I basked in the warmth of the spray. I rubbed the soap over my brown flesh and allowed my hands to graze over my skin. I imagined Jiraiya was somehow under the water with me. He stood there, smiling, and talking provocatively under the water. His hands rested on my shoulders, giving me a slow and subtle massage across the smoothness of my soft skin. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of his hands on my body.

His hands started to glide down my shoulders and then, my arms, crossed over to my belly where both of his hands met as he drew me faintly towards him, merging our skins together. I moaned inwardly with my eyes still closed, my own hands already shuddering in anticipation. I was moist; even as the running water continued to wash my flesh.

I let out a sigh and my eyes parted open. Jiraiya was probably never going to see me the same way that I saw him. I probably would never even see him again. After all, he would soon be married to that model.   All I had were my own thoughts and my own hands and my own mouth for moaning to myself.

I dried my body with the big towel that hung from the door and got dressed for work; I wasn’t going to miss work because of my salacious thoughts. I stared into the mirror while I combed my hair. I applied light make-up; just some powder and lipstick. Dangling green holly earrings completed the scene. It was time to go.

 

*****

I glared at Samantha while she checked the espresso machine; something she always did when there were no customers waiting. She had the coffee shop branded hat on and it looked ridiculous.  I chuckled; making her throw a lethal frown at me. I was thinking of the right way to ask her the question that had been hanging on the webs of my mind since I resumed my shift.

I swiftly looked back when I heard the chime of the bell and a customer entering. It was an older lady. She was a regular customer who seemed always to have fur on her clothing. She once said she had three dogs who she called her babies. I wouldn’t say that I hate dogs, but I would rather have a cat than a mangy old dog. I moved close to the counter, flashed a smile and asked what she wanted in the friendliest voice I could conjure.

“What can I get you, Ma’am?”

“Whatever coffee you have that doesn’t look or taste awful,” she said in her creaking voice. Her smile revealed age lines around her mouth. I didn’t need to be told that she wouldn’t want sugar; she however would like milk. I turned, pressed her coffee and added creamy milk to it. She tasted it and exposed a toothy grin. She then walked over to one of the tables and took a seat, making herself comfortable. She must not have any family visiting during the holidays. So sad.

The peal of the bell rang through my ears once more and I turned my neck with an alacrity that almost gave me a sprain. It was a young couple; male and female. They looked so happy and so in love. And they looked good together.  I probably would consider dating again if someone ever asked me out. I shook my head at the thought.

I poured two latte and creamed coffees with sugars as ordered by the lady. We had small talk and the lady joked about Samantha’s hat, to which we all laughed. I liked this couple already. The three of us turned to face the door once again as the bell made a clang.

It was a middle-aged man who seemed to be in a hurry. He wore a brown coat and a hat even more ridiculous than Samantha’s. I turned to Samantha when she was done with the customer, four slow strides; and I was already standing beside her.

“Did you, by any chance, notice a tall sexy white male with wavy brown hair come in here any time this week?” I asked in the quietest voice I had used in months.

“What? Who?” She was not even looking at me. I snatched the hat off her head and she abruptly swung into action, chasing me round the counter. We were soon standing on either side, giggling.

“Give it back,” she said, trying to force a stern look on me.

“Why do you like this thing anyway?” I asked.

“Because it-- you know what?  Never mind, just ask your question and I promise I’ll answer,” she said.

“There’s this man that came in here about a week ago, you have probably seen him on TV before,” I tried to explain, but Samantha cut me off with her razor-sharp voice.

“You mean the man that you spent your entire shift staring at last week?” She asked, giving me a serious face look.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I fibbed.

“I am just kidding, ha-ha,” she started to laugh.

“You gave me a scare there. I was beginning to think I had been found out,” I threw her hat back at her.

“Ah Hah! Finally, you admit the truth, Karine. About damn time,” she chuckled and nodded her head. “Yes, he was here earlier today before you got here. He sat at the corner table for a while and left. He looked so sad.”

My heart plummeted at the news. “Okay, thanks. That hat looks ridiculous by the way,” I said again for good measure as she put it back on top her head.

 

*****

There was still some free time, so I decided to check the newspaper gossip column and see if there was anything new. I perused the pages and quickly skipped past the headlines that contained glints of politics or business, I did not care for those. Just as I was about to push it aside, something caught my attention; It was a vacancy.

The position was for a private nurse.  It had to be good, I thought. Not just anybody has the money to place an advert in a newspaper. I looked closer and saw that it was for somebody who was sick and would need a private nurse to attend to his basic health needs. She did not have to be certified, but she needed to have experience in taking care of people and must have worked in a hospital. It just felt like the advert was speaking directly to me. I had worked in a hospital and I had experience taking care of people; not just during my time at the hospital but also with my gravely ill dad and my now depressed mom. I planned to put that in my application; it surely would give me an advantage.

I jotted the contact info down on a scrap of paper. I’d forward my resume later.  Right now, I needed to concentrate on this paying job.