Lucy

Lucy

 

Lucy was an optimistic person. He had never known anyone as vivacious and cheerful as she was. David had to admit that for the first time in his life he was besotted with that girl, whose bright, thin, straight hair was falling lightly on her shoulders. She was a bundle of joy, a companion through dismal days, and as fragile as a glass pine decoration they hanged up on a Christmas tree last year. He forgot what it was like to be with a one-night-stand in a cheap motel on his business trips. He no longer hankered for flirtatious glances over a glass of bubbly on plane, bus or train. He was done with paying a taxi driver for himself and a person whose features were bland, and her demeanour worth a cry of contempt. David got over those days when he would be content with a bunch of flowers where no red one was to be found. She must have bewitched him with a liquor concocted by a cupid and stabbed him straight in between the chambers of his heart. He was attracted to her physically and a lot of chemistry between them was alight beyond the confines of their bedroom. Yet, she was complex, and the aura she gave out dazzled him. Her remarks were smart, making him question things he had never thought of. It was shortly before Christmas when he planned postponing to her, and without a second thought he entered a paradise of Tiffany. She was diffident and humble, so he looked for a smooth, plain ring that would embrace her finger with a gentle touch. She was witty, had brains and shone with a high-spirited stand towards obstacles in her life therefore he browsed amongst rings which were plaited as to insinuate her complexity. He could conceive the image of himself kneeling down on an ancient stone in Rome, in front of her getting red a little. While the “yes” would be reverberating in his ear drum, he would glide the ring down her skin passing smoothly the knuckles.

            They had known each other for half a year, but he knew she was destined to him. Lucy tamed him like no one, or else he would never let anyone interfere in his not always impeccable manners. He was downed by a whale of devotion. One of his friends was so vicious a lady, feminist, who professed that it was going to be over soon. Her name Margareta Royal might have made her a queen amongst her feminist admirers, but for him there was nothing royal about her whatsoever. She was smug in her white gloves, and she smirked over a glass of Margareta making her posh and superior. He had been wondering what had changed her into such a bitter spinster, and unfortunately any attempt to elicit an explanatory response was subdued by her severe looks. She would never spill the beans. She would never confess as to what or who twisted her beautiful mind for which he had fallen at first place. He suspected it must have been a man, a fling, which she took seriously, but was unreciprocated.  Margarita had intended to thwart his plans, but if he was occupied with thoughts about a weird transformation of Margareta´s personality, then he missed ultrasound signals she emitted; her wicked intention to break his engagement with Lucy.

            David started to realise he was wedged between two contradictory forces, being neutral himself, as he revelled in the company of both women giving him different boosts to his struggles. Although it was harder and harder to conceive why he had not severed all connections with Margarita, who had begun making his blood boil. At University, they used to be best friends planting precious man-and-woman friendship that lacked a sexual attraction, but possessed qualities of a mutually spiritual and intellectual fulfilment. Shortly after he introduced Lucy to Margarita, the latter swiftly converted into religious hatred towards men. She bore a grudge against Lucy concealing it first by her charming pretence, and later not being able to control it, she would display a vindictive side of Margarita, who would make scathing remarks against a politically incorrect mankind, especially David though. Despite being attacked by her sharp tongue and foul language, he would live in a blissful ignorance to utter surprise to Lucy, who initiated a row with him after Margarita had spread rumours about infidelity. Naturally, he did not have a clue what Lucy was on about, and was taken aback by her high-pitched, sudden outburst accusing him of adultery.

            “Who told you I sleep with other women?” he was provoked into an anger answer.

            “Does it matter who? Will it change the fact that you are unfaithful to me?” tears trickled down Lucy´s cheeks.

            “I have not slept with other women, I have no interest whatsoever. I sense Margarita´s fingers in every pie!” he felt anxious then.

            “Interesting you can think of Margarita so suddenly! Have you noticed how she treats you? Have you noticed how she behaves towards me? Have you ever noticed anything happening around you except your own glory?”

            Before he could reply she slammed the door closed, and a stormy silence taking over the argument was disturbed only by cars dashing into the drizzling afternoon.

            In a few days to come he tracked down Margarita, who kindled to-himself-unknown violence used to make her speak at last. Against the odds, she wanted him to be ruthless as it turned out she adored him and yearned for him. Whether it was because he had wistfully gulped a few beers, or whether her maliciousness provoked adrenaline pumping in his veins, or the combination of both, he desired to thrust himself into her as much as she was begging with her eyes for it.

            Incredibly losing his mind in one act he destroyed the hope of reconciliation with Lucy, who he could not face, a friendship with Margarita who repelled him, and his self-esteem forever undermined.