QUEEN OF THE CASTLE
She looked at him in a way she had never done with me. Kind of like when a missile launcher is trying to lock down on a target to pinpoint accuracy, she so desperately wanted to lock him in her gaze. He just looked away. What I wouldn’t have done to be in his shoes. Her name was Bernadette, an Austrian blonde that I worked with. Him, a total stranger and I made sure it stayed that way.
It was a good few years ago and I was working in a theatre house, serving drinks and food. The best place to be, if you wanted to learn the London culture and lingo and meet women of all walks of life. The very 3 things I so badly wanted, under one roof. It was clear to me, the job had my name written all over it and was ecstatic for the whole £3.30/hr it paid, when told I'd got it. yeah over the moon, right until Bernadette walked in. She was 5ft 10, had silky smooth skin and just the right hint of German in her accent when she spoke. To be honest, I doubt I ever listened to anything she ever said. Her gaze had a similar effect on me to when you look too long at a swinging pendulum. I was literally lost whenever I was around her. She brought a new dimension to the word stunning and for at least 2 weeks, I must have thought about her every 5 minutes, even when I was asleep. Work, no longer, was just work. It was the meeting ground, a place to admire her. I would watch as she served customers, the grace with which she moved, her poise. Everything about her was just perfect. So in my mind, I had 4 kids with her and a big house. I can’t remember properly, but I may have thrown in horses and a barn to the mix, just for added measure. Life was beautiful.
There was a little glitch though. At times, whilst indulging myself in these illusions of grandeur, I would remember that she still didn’t have a clue about what was going on. I mean, we hadn’t yet spoken about the reciprocity of our feelings towards each other (don’t be silly, how could she not be in love too!). We already had kids and spent too much time feeding the horses. Remember? So I had to address this little imbalance. I decided we had to formalise things, it was only the right thing to do. So after days of practising in front the mirror, rearranging words in sentences, only to end up with the original lines, and getting my Barry White voice to a Tee, I finally stepped up to her.
"Bernadette", I said, "Do you wanna go to the cinema?" (Barry White would not have been too pleased at my best impression of him. He would have understood though if he saw my knees knocking). "Cinema?” she queried enthusiastically, "to see what?” Darn, I hadn't done my homework. I didn’t have a clue what films were showing and neither had I prepared for her asking that. I needed to take my time here and think up something really cool to say, "Umm, there are quite a few things on at the moment, but we can check it out when we get there". "Oh, ok sure", she replied. It took a second for that to sink in, but it finally did. Woohoo! Cloud 9 please. I was on a roll. It was working just according to plan, the exact picture. I would name our kids now, however that may have posed some problems with herself being Austrian and yours truly, not. Besides, it was way too early in the relationship for arguments, so I decided to let that rest. A tad optimistic? Do you think? Well, leave me be, it's my castle and I am building.
It was the Odeon cinema in Leicester Square and in retrospect, my film choice was excellent. Trainspotting. We got the popcorn and walked to our seats and the movie began. I remember Ewan McGregor’s character and the other funny looking dude running very hard and fast and another bit where someone's head got stuck down a loo, but otherwise, I saw very little of the film. I had a better moving picture to watch. It was called 'Bernadette next to me'. As you correctly guessed, I just couldn’t get her out of my head! She was too adorable and so physically close, that I wasn't sure which was the right action to take; watching the film or getting cosy with her. Both actions seemed inapplicable. The first was impossible and the other, premature, so i just thought of our kids instead. She was genuinely enjoying herself and would occasionally smack me in delight when exceptional bits came on. I would smile back in return and momentarily resume watching before I relapsed back to thoughts of her. Anyway, the movie ended. My reputation was intact and you could still refer to me as a gentleman, if only barely. It was a great night out. She had had a good time, and so had I. But then again, I would have anyway, even if we had gone to the cemetery, so long as she was by my side.
We strolled through Leicester Square as I entertained her. She constantly laughed. At barely 20, I had already met 'the one'. I was walking with the woman of my dreams. She could have worn a crown befitting of royalty because I was king and the world, my castle. I was floating on air. At that moment, a crane could have hit me and I wouldn’t have felt it. She was all that was on my mind even as I serenaded her. She thought I had a great voice (either she'd been locked in a cellar till she got to London, else it was a desperate attempt to spare my feelings). She never sang, but I thought she made sweet music all the same, even when she laughed. Especially when she laughed.
It was getting late. Mother is still Nigerian and curfews are real. I had to head home really quickly, and even ignored the part-time florist/hustler trying to capitalise on my obvious besotted demeanour with Bernadette by attempting to flog me an overly-priced Rose. It was an awkward moment. Thankfully, she didn’t want one, so we walked on and headed for the station. We got on a train just in time not to miss the last one. She tried to have a discussion about the film, but I quickly changed the topic. I had hardly paid any attention to it and there are only so many times you can talk about a man getting his head stuck down the toilet. Right then, all I could think about was how perfect she was and how light I felt. Nothing else mattered. Not even the envious stares I received from every male that night or the cold weather that seemed to embody every enemy I had ever made, in the way that it turned every pore into a goose bump. Although, thinking about it, the credit for the bumps may not have been totally the weather's. Quite frankly, I didn’t care.
A week later, I watched as she stared at this stranger she had never seen before. It was clear she wanted to know more than just his name, even though he had not spoken a word. I had stood in the gangway many times before to appreciate her gracefulness and had even memorised the sequence of movements her face took as dimples impressed themselves beautifully on her cheeks, whenever she smiled at expectant customers. There is no way he can have noticed the lisp she had so successfully disguised or the way her left eyebrow lifted just before she got confused in a discussion. I had. And now I was left to watch from this same gangway as she flustered around him; this despicable longhaired handsome stranger. How could he deserve so much already?
Right after the movie the previous week, when we got to her doorstep, I told her we should have babies and a big house. Ok, not in those words exactly, but she got my message. Unflinchingly, She had told me that she didn't see me in the same light. She liked me as just a friend and was even fond of me. My heart sank. At this point, I might as well have started singing, "swing lo, swing chariot, coming for to carry me home" because that's exactly where I wanted to be. I mean, this was a little more serious than 'Houston we got a problem'. It was a plane crash of unprecedented proportions. Never in one day had I experienced ultimate highs and lows in the space of a few minutes. I had to head home. There was the curfew to beat. Thank goodness for cereals and TV. I just ate myself to sleep. I mean, Boys don’t cry now. Or do they?
Now, I watched as this stranger did the same thing to her, week in, week out as he came for the shows. It was almost a repertoire. He would walk through the foyer and up the stairs. She would spot him and then dash for the service area. "I will serve, I will serve, go take a break, you work too hard!" she would say to whoever was currently there as she simultaneously adjusted her hair in the silver panel of the microwave. His order was always the same. A cappuccino along with a Danish pastry as well as not ever looking at her, not even once. He always grabbed his order, sat down for a few minutes and walked straight into the theatre. The same, always.
The same, that is, until St. Patrick's Day that year. What a turn of events.
