I saw it in his eyes that he did not remember. He did not remember me, but how could he forget? That night was cold and windy. I was huddled up at a street corner, drenched by the rain and the numbing cold. As the wind blew, my skirt flew up and eyes from warm shelter stared.
I stood there shivering, my only warmth steamed from the anger boiling inside. It would’ve taken me two hours to get home and because of the rain, there was no bus in sight. But at my darkest hour, when I considered myself hopeless, he pulled up. “Honk! honk!” He pressed at his horn, I ignored, even though it was obvious he stopped for me.
“Hello, seems you enjoy being washed by the rain” He called out to me. I wanted to yell back and tell him I was fine but who was I kidding. Relieved, I ran towards his car and got in. I was dripping wet and my makeup had washed, making my face a puddle of colours. He looked at me with a calm smile. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I apologized as I squeezed the rain water of my skirt, embarrassed. My thick laps were exposed, he stared but I didn’t care. What could I do? .
“Where are we heading”. He asked
“Pampa estate”. The way he looked at me, I could tell he was deciding on something. “That’s at the other side of town”. That moment I was scared he would drop me and drive off. I didn’t want that, the car felt so warm already.
“Emm, what’s your name again?”
“This rain doesn’t seem like it would end soon” and then he said, “Pampa estate is so far away, mind spending the night at my place?”
Ohh, yes. He was that straight forward, so daring. A million thoughts ran through my head as I took a moment to decide on an answer. Like as if the universe wanted me to go, the rain began to pour harder.