I've Been Waiting For You at Maxwell Road, Baby (part1 of trilogy)

(Inspired by actual event)

I saw a beautiful girl when I wanted to pee. I asked the girl standing in front of the female restroom. “I am sorry, is this restroom only for female?”
She said I could walk through and find male restroom. I said thank you and she just nodded. I was back from restroom and expected to find that girl who looked so pale, utterly beautiful. Stunningly charming in a very minimalist light of the museum. She was the light itself, but she wasn’t there.
I walked around the exhibition with my camera. I took some pictures, nothing was really important, compare to what was in my mind: the eyes that consistently staring at me five minutes ago. I must know her name; I couldn’t bear it to let such a very angelic lady just walked away from me. Not again. There was something on the way she looked at me. She might need my help; to warm her up in the night, to comfort her at unfriendly days, to surprise her at her birthday. Some simple thing. We missed those simple things.
I sat when the ceremony started. I stood and walked to the front of the runway, when the fashion show began. And that was when I saw her again, and I realized she was a model. She looked arrogant, like all models usually did. But she got something special in her eye that was her crime; its beautiful eyes kept me back to staring not once, but over and over again.
At the end at the show, I met her. I asked her to gone out just for some simple celebration. “Do you brave enough to go out with a stranger?” She just smiled. A smile to be memorize for a life time.
So, there were we. At some café at ION. I talked carefully; hope she won’t get bored with me right away. She said her name is Patricia, a Caucasian model in Asia, fighting her passion far away from family in Scotland—that explains the accent. At that time, I would say I was merely forgotten about my 28 years life so far. I was kind of feeling close with her in some prodigal way. Love is something prodigy.
There was a remnant of her mascara; she looked terribly fascinating yet so mysterious. “This is something I don’t usually do,” she said.
I couldn’t figure out the correlation, not that fast. Not when I was spending night in the most beautiful girl I met. “Pardon me?” I asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t go out with some people I’ve just met 2 hours ago, and tell him everything about me. And my past. And where I am going to go in my future.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said. “I believe this is the bravest thing you ever done.”
“No,” Patricia shakes her hand. “The bravest thing I did is when I decide to stop taking everything happened seriously.”
She became so serious. I feel strangely guilty.
“Is there something I need to know about it?” I asked.
She back with her eyes, staring profoundly at me. At the time I start to feel melting, she looked to the other way.
“Do you ever be in love?” I asked.
“Such a topic!” She paused.
“You said you’ve already stop taking everything seriously,” I said.
“I don’t know,” She went on. “I guess maybe I should believe you, you’re leaving tomorrow, right?”
I nodded.
She looked gloomy afterwards. I don’t want to bet that was because of me.
And then rain fall from the sky without any warning. She never knew how much I love rain—nobody knew. I clapped or cheered every time the rain fell. And that night, the rain just fell when I was with a gorgeous lady. She doubled the joy.
The glasses were empty—I don’t want to be separated so soon. I practiced some Zen technique; I was still so lame on it. I try not to think. Just to be there, embrace every second. To be in NOW, throw away everything about tomorrow when I must go back to Indonesia, a farewell. Oh, so sad.
However, it such a miracle to hear her said this. “Iski,” the way she pronounces my name was so sexy. “My place is only a few blocks from here. Do you want to come?”
So, as on some American Movie we strolled down the road, let the rain flowing down our body. She unlocked the apartment and turned on the lights. I feel very strong aura. I sat at the chair. She sat at the bed.
“I think you should change. Your shirt is wet, and you made the bed wet. I mean I didn’t suggest you to change because I want to see you naked, hmmm… u know what I mean,” I was screwed up. I can’t be focus. My body was hungering for women.
Next thing happened is too surreal to be happened. She stripped down and undressed herself in front of me. I hugged her. She kissed my cheek. I kissed her forehead. She kissed my lips. Not a light kiss.
“It was a casual sex,” she said regretfully after we made love.
“There’s no such thing. And I didn’t really into one night stand,” I said.
“So what do you want?” she stared at me, only wearing lingerie.
“I don’t know. I must back to my hotel,” I said.
“It is three am in the morning.”
“They are going to worry about me.”
“Do you want to leave me? I need you,” she stared to raise her voice.
I looked at her; I consider to myself that I might be fall in love with her. “Please come to Maxwell road tomorrow. They have another press conference before us leaving.”

So, I was waiting her at Maxwell Road the day after. I beware of every taxi, every bus stopped at the station. What would I say to her when I see her? She must be looked beautiful in the afternoon, wearing some designer shirt, with that edgy style and perfect attitude. I guess I would say thank you, and ask about her phone number, her email, her pin.
We could always have some schedule to chat then. While she was doing her job, and I was doing mine we send message. And when we missed each other, we chat by using webcam. I said, this relationship is unique, because there is ocean between us, and time difference zone. We have to be patience, and that is the beauty.
I’ve been waiting for hours. I already miss the plane, baby. Will I miss you too? I start to discover some clues, making up my theory that you hate a long distance relationship. It is better to kill the opportunity than to experience and give it a try. You don’t want to risk the feeling, nor the pain it possibly caused. And here I am, try to convince myself that there are still chances of love. There are always will.