Saturday, July 12, 2014

Letter 703: Damage Control

The hunger pangs are making their presence known, wave after wave, like tides crashing ashore. It’s 12am. I’m cold, wet, tired, and just realising I'm starting to get hungry. Barely 2 hours before, we were driving along a well-trodden highway, with a sense of familiarity that has always guided us safely through these roads in the dark of the night. We haven't been talking, because we were in a heated discussion 24 hours prior, which resulted in each of us slunking to opposite ends of the room to lick our wounds. So in the car, we were swathed in a thick blanket of silence, until we heard a loud bang immediately after we saw a suicidal kangaroo leaping out from the bushes. It was too late for the brakes to kick in, and we had no choice but to pull over and assess the damage. 

2 hours later, after huddling in the cold rain waiting for the tow truck, we're home, driving out to the nearest McDonald's for food in his car. The shock that rippled through our bodies when we discovered the horrifying blow sustained by my car 2 hours ago had, in a strange way, pulled us back together again. But we were still restrained with our conversation. Yet, he needed no verbal communication from me to know that a cheeseburger and some chicken McNuggets were what I needed.

12.30am, we're home for the second time after our Macca's run. He sets the brown paper bag on the coffee table while I make us hot, steaming mugs of cocoa. He rummages through the bag and presses a warm burger to my palm. Then, with exquisite precision, he carefully peels off the cover of the plastic container of barbeque sauce, dips a golden nugget into it, and offers it to me. We turn on the TV and eat in ravenous silence, not really paying attention to the Tour de France streaming live, and not really paying attention to each other either. When we lick the last bits of salt off our fingers and drown our last drops of cocoa, we lean back against the couch and I rest my head against his shoulder while he puts his arm around mine.

So, we're good, after all.

2 comments:

koh said...

It is that sense of familiarity which often catches people off-guard.

Jun said...

hmm, i like that.