My Kind of Perfect

15th ツ

15th ツ

“Hey!” I said, lightly tapping John on the shoulder.

He groaned and moved to the other side. Pulling the blanket over him, he crumpled to one side and disregarded my call. I grabbed the blanket from him, and called out, “John, wake up!”

“Just a little more,” he said to me, still knocked down on the sofa. Seriously, he needed to get up and we had to get ready. Dorothy had done something ‘evil’ again. She continued the torture of my peaceful existence when she invited some people from the media up here in their resort. And down there, right now, there were about twenty ‘evil’ minions of hers who were waiting to devour us both.

“No, you need to get up now,” I clearly implied.

“Five more minutes, Grandma,” he muttered under his breath, and put a pillow over his ear.

“Grandma!” I exclaimed. “I'm not your grandma! I’m not related to you!”

He was startled by my voice, and I saw him slowly opened his eyes. And then, he realized that it was I who was calling him all along. A bit flustered, he slowly got up, eyes lazily wandering around the room. Seemed like he was trying to figure out where he was. I slowly tapped my feet, as I watched him stretch out his arms. It was as if he was mocking me by acting all peaceful and composed. He had no idea what he was up to and what we were about to face.

Wife, Kayla. You're the wifey. Don't forget that, or you'll get sued by your evil enemy, I reminded myself.

Then I heard him say after a moment of sudden realization, “Oh. Sorry, Kaye. I thought you were Grandma.”

I narrowed my eyes in dismay. “For real? Did I sound that old to you?”

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I was half-awake.”

“Oh?” I scornfully said, still annoyed. That was the most unreasonable comparison he could ever do in his lifetime.

“What were you saying again?” he asked.

I pointed outside. “Find out for yourself.”

“What’s with the noise?” he muttered, while lazily dragging himself across the room.

I grabbed a towel and headed off towards the bathroom. I had to make a good impression as being a notable person's wife, so as Dorothy called it. “Don't forget to thank your grandmother for this. Better prepare your story, too.”

I counted to twenty, and then I heard a knock on the door. He must now be fully aware of the situation. “Kayla, about our story...”

“Think of anything. I'll go along with it,” I replied, filling the tub with hot water.

I was not in the mood to create a love story in my head. I was still having a hard time figuring out why I sometimes get flushed at the sight of him. Creating a love story might aggravate the first symptom of insanity that I was having.

Dipping into the hot water, I told myself that my exhaustion from the previous days might have triggered my unusual reaction with him before. After having a good night’s sleep and a few days of rest, I was certain that it was the reason. Well, it had to be the reason. For right now, I was not feeling anything for him. My heart was acting normal again, and there was no sign of blushing at the sight of him from the past two days whatsoever.

John continued telling me about the story that he was trying to compose and finalize. He sounded like a novelist who was creating the perfect story of the century. I listened attentively. Okay, so maybe not. But I tried to listen to everything, bearing in mind the necessary things, like when we first met and our first date.