The Predicament: Part Two

by thekathmandudes

Mr. Floyd gazed up into the dim sky where he could see birds descending upon a copse of trees.  He could see them hovering above the trees before making their descent to the dense green of the leaves. He thought highly of birds. Their endless journeys, diligence, adventures that they were prone to encounter and most of all the freedom that their light wings gave them, to be able to fly where they wanted and when they desired.  Floyd now desired to have wings that could take him far away from this madding crowd.

He was in a café at Bouddha located at the roof of an ugly eight storey building which overlooked the noisy and grim looking street. Floyd was leaning left to the wall which was adjacent to his wooden chair. He looked contemplating at the world outside the windows of the café which was effervescence with its own occupations. He gaped.

Mrs. Pink was sitting across the round green table and was holding a cup of cinnamon coffee with both her hands while her legs crossed and her body stooped towards the cup which she was holding warmly. She was looking at Floyd, her brother, through her rectangular spectacles of the 80’s fashion. She asked, “What are you thinking”? Floyd replied without caring to look at her, “women”. Floyd now turned his head towards her and their glances met. What else do men think about? , said he and produced a faint smile from his stern countenance.

“I do not have a choice”, countered Pink. We all have choices which shape who we are to be, roared in Floyd and then lit a cigarette.  The sister gave him a quick glance and turned her eyes towards the copse of trees where the birds had earlier descended.  Floyd took a puff and said calmly now, “Who gave you such an idea in the first place?”  The sister slowly took a sip of coffee and answered coldly, “then you think that women are imbeciles with boobs only, huh”.

Floyd never wanted to have this conversation. He loathed it. He abhorred the idea that his own sister was involved with another person. Pink had been married for eight years.

His love for his sister was remarkable. They were extraordinarily intimate since their childhood. There was few times that Pink had made her young brother shed tears from those very eyes which beheld Pink to be the epitome of a woman’s warmth  to him. Floyd remembered them lucidly because those rare times of anger that he had felt towards her. And now the time had come when he felt repelled by his sister. It was an action that was to be repelled but Floyd was disgusted at whole. His conscience was battered and he now hated himself for judging his beloved incongruously. He didn’t know what to think anymore. What is dark and what is light.

The only respectable thing to do for him to do was to tell her husband what had transpired. But the guilt of obliterating his sister’s reputation in the society would be greater. Such pathetic was his predicament.

That day Floyd separated from his sister after countless minutes of argument and never spoke to her ever again. She bore her husband a daughter and apparently lives happily married. However, he did accept invitations for luncheons, suppers and occasional celebrations which were thrown at her place. It is bizarre that they were able to conceal to the outside world the fact that they had ceased to speak with each other and when such moments came where they would have to confront each other they had their shrewd  ways.

And one day, Pink’s daughter who was by now fifteen while having a stay-over at Floyd’s house was being put to bed by him asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight, uncle?” Floyd gave her a faint smile, raised the quilt to her chin then kissed her temple and replied coldly, “Oh! Yes, I am certain it happens all the time”. He wished the nephew a good night and turned then off the lights.