Netu moved over to her side and held her in his arms.
Anne did not resist the warmth she felt from him. Her sturdy walls of defense dissolved in the heat of his body. Even so, she fought in desperation to hold on to the insulation she derived from those walls by refusing to look at him. His suspicions about her frightened her. Netu had metamorphosed, in her reckoning, from a carefree and overly romantic personality to a man who walked the streets with the notion that friends and foes stalked him. He would snap at every slight opportunity to justify this fear or hunch. She could not blame him much; for, a bird whose precious pinions are garnishing flecks on a ritual table must learn the language of caution in its flamboyant flights. Aware of this, Netu Deo often tried to confide in her about it. They both knew his guided secret as the next in the line of Manus. As such, she knew he had adversaries as countless as a swarm of locusts.
"I don't even know whom to trust anymore," he had told her often. If he suspected her as part of his aches, she would forgive him; for, she had come to appreciate the depth of the rupturing volcano on which he sat as the next in the line of Manus, the Light Bearer.
The warmth of his body and the magic of his dexterous and swift fingers all over Anne melted her resolve. "If you love someone so dearly, you wouldn't even think of hurting such a loved one," she said.
Netu spurned to that scathing remark. "It’s okay, my baby. You're not about to hurt me, and nobody's about to hurt anybody. For now, what we have going between us, I figure, matters most. I feel for you from deep within, can't you see?"
Netu drove his fingers like comb through her hair and stroked her with an overruling tenderness. She began to huff, her fire of spite mellowing quickly. She turned and encircled her quaking arms around his neck, and in a half-choking voice, whispered, “I love you so much I don't want to see you hurt. I never ever want to see you hurt; understand?"
Nodding, Netu kissed her, more gently than ever before. She felt gingered back to life again, her darkened mood, lost in the rekindled wave of emotion.
I haven't been able to pry any damn secret out of her, Netu thought. Did I pull the wrong stunt? From the beginning, she got me feeling guilty with her smart sensitivity. She sure deploys her wiles adeptly, and I'm always the worse for it. I'll let her have the joker for a while; I'll save my laugh for last. After all, I’m mindful of her instinct of vengeance.
The companions spoke little afterwards, the need for words rendered unnecessary by the groundswell of emotion. The magnetism they experienced between them felt stronger after the cajoling he had given her. Words would only have given a superfluous meaning to the lingering silence, since their mutual feeling ruled supreme.
In his characteristic evasiveness, Netu did not mount Anne as she had envisaged. But Anne felt safe entwined with him, believing in the comfort of his strong arms. He meant many things to her and she never doubted the future beauty of her own feelings anchored on his wealth, smile, care, and charisma. She wished both of them could extend the bliss and wanton promise of the moment into the future. She also wished that they could inflame their feelings with mutual care, and let it glimmer like an enchanting eternal light.
Anne closed her wistful-eyes and savored the gift of the moment. The future was still far out in the roiling ocean of time. She would make its call safely if she exercised some patience, she thought. Anne noticed that Netu had dozed off when his grip on her frame slackened. She just could not let go of him; rather she kissed him tenderly and weaned herself to sleep, his sweet breath warming her face next to his on the pillow.
Chapter Five
The morning after, Netu Deo’s feelings still centered on his snooping game with Anne Ofino. Against his expectations, he reckoned that, she had outsmarted him, by keeping her secrets intact. The glow of dawn penetrating the bedroom window seemed to re-echo his failure to elicit the truth from her. This frightened him.
His thoughts raced. Is my vindictive posturing out of tune? Has Anne not proven enough that she cares for me? Didn’t I see the spark of her profound love twinkling in her eyes when I gazed down at her and she smiled up like a temptress at me?
The glaze in her eyes had bewildered him. Perhaps, secrets lurked in them, and he had been caught in their spell. Netu sighed uneasily. A crossfire of thoughts laid claim to his head. Nothing appeared to make sense to him.
He had been awake when she rose from bed quite early in the morning. He knew when she kissed his lips but pretended not to notice. Soon as she had shut the bedroom door his eyes slit open and appraised the speed of time through the window. The sun had risen high and magnificent over paled clouds.
He frisked himself clear of the quilt Anne had pulled over him with care before her quiet exit. Yawning with a throaty noise, he sat on the bed's fringe. He heard Anne's voice as above the din of the living room, with a merry twinge to it. His worry was anchored elsewhere – not their friendly jokes - but on his futile attempt at disentangling from his mind's many clutches. How he would rid his senses of this power which held him to ransom truly worried him. He would take one step at a time, and Anne would be the first step.
Anne sneaked into the bedroom just when Netu rose to flex his weary tendons and tone up his reflexes lulled by sleep. Seeing him awake spurred her.
"What kept you so long in bed?” she asked, full of mirth, swinging to his side. “You didn't even know when I left."
"Even with your kiss on my lips you still think I didn't know?” Netu replied with a hint of humor. He noticed her radiance and sniffed the sweet perfume that hung in the air. "I like the cologne on you!"
"Oh, thanks! If you felt my early morning kiss,” Anne chuckled, “how come you didn’t say anything?”
“Hmmnn. You could say I was watching you watch me. What a flamboyant peacock you are this morning!"
Anne took the quaint collars of his pajama top in her hands and drew him towards her. "Be drawn to me," she said. "All right, since you've become my watchdog, just stay right here..." She pointed to her heart. "And don’t slip away again."
"I won’t slip away."
Anne’s slender arms encircled Netu’s long neck. He was tickled as she stood on her toes to kiss him.
"Did you have a nice rest?"
"I sure did. The best night I ever had."
"What was the noise out there about? Did you win a lottery or something?"
Anne's bewilderment amused him. "You thought I didn't hear you chatting, right?"
"Right. Just catching up on the times, you know."
"As you are catching up on me now I suppose." He laughed as Anne patted his chest.
"Stop the tease."
"I will, provided breakfast is ready."
"Soon. A couple of minutes at most."
Netu smacked her behind mirthfully and eased off her grip. “You sure know how to tease a man! Go and fix us breakfast. I'm starving."
"And you go clean up fast," she said. "No meals until you’ve freshened up, dear. I don't want you smelling around here."
"I do not smell," he joked.
Anne left, feeling ecstatic.
Netu stood before the mirror and stiffened at his reflection. Stubbles of hair dotted his chin and his brow knitted, no doubt, from mental exhaustion. Though his eyes retained their youthful sparkle, the grim punches of time had created shadows in their corners. His own image staring back at him scared him. It made him feel shy of the obvious - he had stepped higher on the age ladder. In spite of himself and the new meaning age gave to his form and life at thirty-three, his peers envied his youthfulness. They overwhelmed him with nicknames, the most loved one being, Netu, the baby face!
He liked the epithet, for, the spirit of youth kept his burdens light. After all, his countenance reflected the workings of his mind. Netu Deo smiled at the intruding thought. He would promptly take care of the stubbles because they added more years to his age. He preferre
d the boyish look, which gave him a sense of longevity.
The stark realities of life stared at him. Feeling clammy, he moved away from the mirror and went to shower and shave. Not long after, he walked into the living room, dressed in tennis shorts and shirt, with a pair of flowery slippers. He was ready to share in the jolly chat of Lata, John, and Vivian.
He had observed that Anne did not partake in the din he had heard as she still busied herself with kitchen chores. Vivian, on her usual Thursday off-duty, indulged in it. Most Thursdays, she spent the racing hours at home, except when an urgent social call denied her a deserved rest in the company of loved ones. The rest, not yet gainfully employed, often nestled around the apartment in loud prattle, sometimes to Netu's dismay.
"There’s so much excitement here this morning!” Netu said with a humorous edge, plunking onto the living room couch next to Lata. “What is the secret, pal? Fill me in."
"How's the morning like with you?" Lata greeted. “I guess you had a nice sleep. What with your late stirrings?”
"Good, good feelings this morning you may say," Netu replied cockily. "Did you guys sleep at all? It seems you rose with the birds."
John made a humorous defence. “Actually, we crowed before the birds. Those creatures have long shirked their duties. We had to remind them of their duty to creation," he went on, laughing. After some moments, he added, "Hope you slept well? I dare say you were in heaven all night. You simply forgot you still had a place over here."
Netu shrugged. "It would've been nice if I’d been able to remember one jot of fun up there. Heaven, you called it, but I woke up blank. I guess I had a maze of troubling thoughts.”
“To me, you don't look at all ruffled,” Vivian chipped in. “You’re as cute and cool as cucumber."
Vivian's unabashed flatter got Netu grinning. She seldom voiced how she felt about anyone. "Well, you can say I've become an adept in the art of masking inner feelings,” he said. “Nowadays, I hardly know the difference between my smiles and frowns."
Vivian’s lips toyed with a smile. "With this sweet tongue of yours, you can talk your way through a rock."
Netu noticed that she wore a yellow spaghetti blouse atop blue denim jeans. A mild jerk of her head sent strands of hair flying across her beautiful face. Vivian brushed them aside from blurring her emerald eyes with feminine wile, gazing curiously at Netu.
Netu's frankness amazed Vivian. True, she could not see the difference between his happy and sad moments. To her, they were like two grains: nurtured apart, yet churned in the gentle crucible of his compassion, and sculpted into a genial whole. She had all along seen the whole, but never the opposite grains.
"Really?" Netu enquired with great fascination.
Vivian nodded. "Why not?"
"Breakfast is fixed gentlemen and lady!" Anne broke in with a strident call, as she pranced into the living room with a complacent smile. "I didn't think it would take so much time but it's done all right."
Lata could not contain his excitement. "Okay, sweet sister, let's have it straight on."
"Then come help me with the dishes," Anne called turning back to the kitchen.
"I’m right behind you," Lata said, scurrying after her.
Netu again turned his charm on Vivian. "Now Vivian, perhaps, it’s time to revisit your flattery.” A wry grin tampered with his attempt to pursue her line of thought. "You really think my words have enough power to disintegrate a rock?"
Vivian stirred, but guarded her station. A thin air of apprehension blew over her high spirit. She could not tell what he had in mind. "In your shoes, I wouldn't over-praise my prowess,” she said with a sarcastic edge. “But sure, you’re sleek in tongue. Must’ve caused a hell of trouble for some chaste and well-bred ladies around."
"My God, some wry jokes you make!" said Netu. "Damn the girls. By God, if I ever knew of the power you’re humouring me about, they’ll all be mine in a flash.”
"And get your arse smacked for all the mischief.” Vivian's laugh reverberated and Netu joined her.
Moments later, the tantalising aroma of the evening’s meal, along with the sweet smell of charred corn flour and spicy chicken stew wafted into the room.
"What do you think it'll be?" John asked Netu, pacing to the dining table.
Netu sniffed the air hard, his brow lifted, with a sagely nod. "Unless the air is treacherous to my senses, I perceive the aroma of roast yam and stew. But, I throw my lot with chicken stew," he boasted, moving to take his seat opposite John.
“Not a score to be proud of. One over two points, Netu," Anne interrupted, clutching a giant tray with a couple of china as she veered from the kitchen. Lata trailed her with another loaded tray.
"Toasted corn bread and chicken stew," she announced.
"Won't you give me thumbs up for guessing right?" Netu demanded.
Anne winked and giggled at him. She served the circle of hungry friends with an officiousness of a seasoned chef in a highbrow hotel. As they ate, Netu told Anne how delicious her food tasted, and she blushed. The decision to serve toasted bread and stew was her singular decision. Since no one complained about the fare, she was delighted. Netu’s kind of compliment rarely came her way.
Silence enveloped the atmosphere for some minutes after breakfast. Everyone felt contented and unwilling to take leave of the table. The palatable food aside, the magnificent and bright morning had enlivened their company. The ensuing ambiance called for serene relaxation.
John broke the silence. "Life could be gamely sometimes, you know," he said, rising to his feet, and negotiating clear of the dining table. "At times, especially when one is well-fed and happy, the picture of life one gets in one’s head is that of a merry-go-round. One feels that all there is to it is the exciting fear factor and the giddy suspense of the rolling forms.” Now hunched over the head of a dining table chair, he paused and glanced at his companions.
"But my dear friends,” John continued, "from our individual experiences, somewhere in this rickety journey referred to as life, we've all been pawns in its game. I believe you'll all agree with me without any reservation, that life isn't the roller-coaster ride we often imagine it is."
John’s logic, though unpremeditated, stirred his friends’ imagination, and got them thinking through a spell of pricking silence.
Netu broke the stillness. "Getting idealistic, eh?"
John’s philosophical self-unveiling surprised Netu Deo. Personal traits he had never seen in the young man now came to the fore, such as his spring of wisdom, insight, and a hidden supernatural edge.
"Say that if you will," replied John with indifference. "Life to me is the most complex philosophy. Our daily living is just a concert at understanding its rhythms. We are simply interpreting life’s different notes that combine to make the concert meaningful."
"Damn it, I was wrong to think you’re naive," Netu exploded, with a smile."
“I don’t think John was,” Lata remarked. “He is a conservative knowledge bank!"
Laughter pealed around the dining table.
"People with his type of skull are always wise," Vivian said, and then added a physiological angle. "Study the shape of his skull - mid-point between oblong and broad, and with a slight jut to the back, and the curve of his brow – and you'd see an evidence of wisdom!"
"How the hell did you know that?" Lata wondered.
"It's part of our culture,” answered Vivian. “We study these traits in our local settings and it enhances our perceptions of our environment and the circumstances."
"Sorry, I'm a city cat!” Lata said shyly. “I don't claim to be wise about such aspects of Riagena culture."
“Then you'd better be close to your roots," Vivian urged.
"Oh, what a morning!" said Netu.
Anne chuckled beside him, her arm about his shoulder. Netu captivated her as the only subject wo
rthy of attention. Not their philosophical or cultural banter.
Soon afterwards, everyone moved away from the dining area to the living room, where the morning prattle continued with intensity. Netu, however, retired straight to his bedroom. Anne’s chores at the kitchen kept her away from him for some time. With the increased television sound from the living room, Netu knew his younger companions were hell-bent on sustaining the pleasant mood for as long as it would take.
Two hours sped past, and the morning phased into humid noon. Soon, the weather cooled off in the day's rush towards dusk. Netu and Anne were now alone in the three-bedroom apartment, with Anne having since joined him in his bedroom while the others still chatted in the living room. All of a sudden, silence reigned. When Netu and Anne came out to ascertain what had overtaken the living room noise, he saw the note John had left on the center table. Netu sighed, in relief.
"What's the mystery?" Anne enquired.
"John’s note says they've gone out," Netu answered, dropping the piece of paper. "I guess he didn't want to intrude on our privacy."
"Nice guy, John. Well, since we’re all alone, and free as the wind, why don't we make the most of it?" Anne coaxed, clinging on to Netu's arms. "I suggest we haul ourselves back to bed and while the hours away."
"Great idea! And what did you say is the best way to while away time?"
"Quite easy,” she taunted him back. “Just tag along and you will know how. Any excuse now?"
"Don't say it. I feel it already."
Netu steered Anne back to the bedroom, locking the door, amused as Anne ran across the room, throwing herself on the bed. He caught her wrist in a mock chase, pinning her frame to the mattress. She feigned a wriggle, and then surrendered like a hen to a rooster’s fluttering serenade. With their bodies caught in a tango and lips tangled they went gasping as they rocked on in ecstasy.
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