A Changing Of The Seasons (1)
Phoebus radiated her coy September charm and gently roused the sleeping city from hibernation’s bliss. The din heightened with a warming of the days as people clamoured along the streets once more rediscovering extricated senses that had been locked away behind layers of concrete and glass for Winter’s bitter eternity. Optimism permeated the urban ethos and pollen scented fresh Spring air served to resurrect the spirits of renascent souls. The favourable environs served as an effective catalyst for the union of lovers as Cupid raised his bow and patiently poised to take aim. Stefan slouched in his regular lecture theatre seat and blankly gazed upon the blackboard filled with hieroglyphics of mind numbing statistical methodology. The dull drone of Dr. Nielsen, an aged and at times most formidable lecturer came into focus with the words, ‘Well what do you think Reid?’ resounding in his untuned ear. Stefan started from his reverie, took a long hard look at where Dr. Nielsen’s heavily chalked hand was pointing on the blackboard, and tried to play back in his head the words prior to the abrupt awakening. He sat composed for a moment, desperately scouring the inner depths of his mind for an intelligent response and then, with the brashness of youth replied, ‘I think that statistics are a waste of time and am at a loss to explain how they are of relevance to real life.’ Nielsen’s brow furrowed like a freshly ploughed field in proportion to the laughter of the class and in his wisdom he prudently sallied, ‘They serve to get your brain going Reid!’ Stefan blushed with annoyance and retreated further into his seat as Nielsen returned to the comfort of his monologue and resumed the scribbling of intelligible scrawl. It was evident that Stefan had become far too pensive to be perceptive of late as heart betray mind and hijacked thoughts away from all matters educational to a preoccupation more personal affairs. ‘Why is it God that I cannot seem to get a girlfriend?’ he mused in prayer as the classroom sounds faded into a murmur once more. The feminine patter of light feet skulkily creeping down the steps from behind served to rouse his conscience again as he turned to see a woman auspiciously assume the aisle seat beside him. She then proceeded to fumble through her bag for pen and paper, completely ignoring Stefan’s perplexed stare with deliberation, as women often do when they sense what they need not bother to see. ‘This must be providence,’ he convinced himself as his heart began to beat stronger with anticipation. It was not the first time she had grabbed his attention as he had often gazed across to the other side of the lecture theatre, a side he neither cared nor dared to frequent, and had admired her not for her beauty which was slowly being eroded by the tide of time, but for her intensity as she listened intently to every word that drawled off old Nielsen’s tongue. She was considerably older than Stefan in years and possessed a singular inner radiant beauty that would not be captured on film, and could only be viewed in person. This became more apparent to an awe-struck Stefan as the woman’s proximity was reduced down from thirty to three feet. ‘How do you do?’ inquired Stefan in an suppliant tone. The woman turned slightly giving Stefan a quick glance and assumed a confident disposition before whispering in reply, ‘Very well thankyou.’ The curtness of response cooled his blood but the fresh fragrance of perfume served to warm his heart and so on he pushed hopelessly, like a cow to slaughter. ‘My name is Stefan, what is yours?’ ‘I am Christine,’ she replied. ‘Oh - it’s nice to meet you Christine; do you enjoy statistics?’ Christine turned to stare him point blank in the eye and coolly replied, ‘Not at all, they absolutely bore me to tears!’ There was a pause in conversation before Stefan nervously burst into hysterical laughter at the surprise remiss in coquetry and Christine uncontrollably joined in the mirthful scene that befell her. Nielsen tapped on the blackboard in disgust and proceeded to beset his familiar opponent with a volley of disapproval. ‘Is there something amusing that you and your girlfriend would care to share with the rest of the class Reid?’ A crimson flush effused Stefan’s usual pallor as a visible indicator of the embarrassment he felt for Christine by placing her in such an awkward situation. For himself he cared little and had in fact had become quite accustomed to being the subject of classroom persiflage and subsequent public execution but he could not forgive himself for dragging his newfound friend into the spotlight with his thoughtlessness. ‘No sir, nothing,’ he said. ‘Well then I expect to hear nothing more from you today Reid as my years serve to wear my patience for insubordination dangerously thin!’ There was silence. Some students ruffled through their notes, and chairs squeaked whilst others jockeyed from side to side in search of optimum comfort, but the silence that fell upon the hearts of the two would be lovers was pronounced. The irony of the situation contorted Stefan’s stomach and gnawed at his soul. Here sat a woman of immense intrigue and beauty by his side and not a word could be spoken because of an inexplicable yet definitive ingrained reverence for an old man who would have him dead and not shed a single solitary tear. But the Spring fragrances that Stefan inhaled fuelled caprice within and so he expired determination thereby leaning over, ever so gently, and whispering into Christine’s ear, ‘Would you like to go and get a cup of coffee?’ ‘I’d love to,’ was the ready response as they both proceeded to slink out of the lecture theatre, much to the disdain of an all-seeing Nielsen below. The relentless December sun indiscriminately burns fair, exposed skin as its heat readily sears the fair, exposed heart. When the mercury soars crowds flock to the seaside for respite, but sultry humidity mixed with an apparent sparsity of clothing and constraint, serve to fuel and fan the lovers fire into conflagration. Stefan lay sprawled prone across his beach towel, dreamily staring at Christine cooling her feet in the welcoming blue Southern Ocean. He admired the splendour of her curvaceous physique enhanced by the two piece bikini that strategically hugged her body displaying a teasing sample for the eye yet tastefully leaving ample to the imagination. He was fortunate to have a girl of such physical beauty in his possession, to admire and of course to be admired with. A fresh faced blonde girl of sixteen was laying her towel on an adjacent plot of sand and proceeded to derobe before Stefan’s watchful gaze. A shiver of covetness chilled earlier thoughts of his love as he admired the heaving cleavage of the buxom youth who posed for the crowd, relishing the attention that her spectacle yielded. She paced erratically this way and that, as if marking her territory, before pausing to unbutton her tight denim shorts. Stefan made no attempt to conceal his apparent interest, aside from hiding behind the wrap-around sunglasses plastered on his face that gave a false illusion of invisibility, and gawked in earnest at the splendid sight. Suddenly, as if detecting Stefan’s interest for the first time, the blonde failed to release the unbuttoned shorts from her waist and proceeded to sit on her towel instead. ‘What a tease!’ snarled Stefan with disapproval as his gaze scanned the shore for Christine once again. She had waded knee deep into the surf and was easing her way further into the sea, squealing with a mixture of delight and terror as the cold water ravenously devoured her remaining dry skin. With a sudden swoosh her horizon was inverted as she found herself precariously suspended above the waves in Stefan’s strong masculine arms. ‘Don’t drop me!’ she half-heartedly begged as he tilted her head toward the waters surface. Stefan sniggered at her feeble attempts to writhe free from his hold and threatened with derision, ‘Keep still or I may loose my grip.’ Finally the weight of temptation became too great for his arms to bear and ignoring Christine’s hollow entreaties for clemency, he baptised her beneath the inviting waves. She emerged from the water coughing and gasping for air to the taunts of an unremorseful beau. ‘That’s not funny Stefan!’ she cursed in a fit of embarrassment and anger. ‘Oh, I beg to differ my dear because otherwise I would not be laughing,’ he jovially retorted. She glared daggers at him through the long strands of fine satin, now plastered across her flushed face. ‘Sometimes you simply go too far and don’t know your limits,’ she announced trudging out of the water to the sanctuary of her towel on the shore. ‘How can I truly know my limits if I never break them?’ he muttered beneath his breath before trailing after her across the burning yellow sand. They lay side by side, basking and baking in the sun’s burning glory. Stefan ran his fingers nervously through the sand, growing more and more uncomfortable with every moment of silence that stealthily stole by. ‘Women certainly are a funny breed of cattle,’ he drawled, awkwardly breaking the monotony of silence that is the seed of boredom. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ answered Christine in a genial tone. ‘Well take that blonde over there by the waters edge for instance,’ he said pointing to the sixteen year old that had previously held his attention firmly by the genitals. ‘Earlier on she was parading up and down the beach rallying as much male attention to her cause as she could by peeling off layer upon layer of clothing. When she noticed me watching her performance she suddenly feigned abashment and acted very coy, trying to make me feel like some kind of pervert for merely yielding to her wish, and so she consequently refrained from removing her denim shorts in my sight. Now I can see that she has removed them and they have been replaced by a towel. I can never fathom why it is that women do that? I mean why would they bother to hide their arses from complete strangers on the beach who really do not care and will certainly not remember one arse from another at the end of the day?’ Christine smiled with mild amusement and scratched her head with bemusement before replying, ‘Because to them it’s important to maintain a degree of modesty and leave something to the imagination - particularly when that something is in their eye is flawed.’ ‘Women like that are the instigators of their own discomfort for it is they that perpetrate the myth of ideal body image under a cloak, or towel, of humility as the case may be. They nail themselves to images that they cannot live up to and willingly bear the shame in public by highlighting parts of their anatomy that do not meet their ideals with inappropriate clothing alternatives. I simply cannot understand why they do it?’ replied Stefan in a genuinely perplexed manner. ‘Oh Stefan you really are far too intense and serious sometimes. All women have a phobia of gaining cellulite on their thighs as men do with gaining weight around their midriff and they simply do not want others to see it. That is all there is to it!’ Stefan shook his head in disbelief and replied, ‘Why that can’t be true because if it were men would most certainly take to wearing towels around their stomachs!’ They both broke into a fit of laughter at the thought and Christine gazed amorously at her handsome boyfriend uttering with mock disapproval, ‘Sometimes I really don’t know why I put up with you, I really don’t. All this talk about other women is making me nervous. Are you looking for another girlfriend already?’ ‘Always looking babe, that’s what eyes are for,’ he answered nonchalantly. Christine leant over and affectionately punched his arm in disgust. ‘Ouch,’ squealed Stefan playfully. ‘I’m only joking - just relax. The truth of the matter is that a woman of extreme physical beauty is wasted on me because I am aesthetically dead and cannot truly appreciate her for her looks. I rarely find a woman interesting enough to wake me from my 21 year slumber. Only women more intent on developing their mind in preference to solely focussing on their bodies can succeed these days.’ An attractive young man with feminine good looks sauntered across the beach with a confident air and drew along side the blonde by the water before proceeding to engage in conversation with her. ‘Guys like that should have a body before they are permitted to walk around without a t-shirt,’ sneered Stefan with unfounded envy. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say,’ denounced Christine. ‘Oh I never say anything behind someone’s back that I wouldn’t say to their face,’ justified Stefan, his eyes firmly fixed on the pair fraternising by the shore. ‘Is it any better to be stabbed in the stomach than in the back?’ reasoned Christine. Stefan remained oblivious and continued his tirade, ‘If that clown had any ounce of the modesty your sex clings to he would simply not embarrass himself in such an ostentatious manner. But here again we have the irony of the sexes whereby you fail to see his exhibition for what it really is.’ ‘And what might that be?’ she inquired with scant interest. ‘Why a blatant attempt to show off the silly stain on his arm of course. And he naturally chooses to walk around like a peacock, in a most peculiar posture, to alert everyone to the fact that he has a tattoo. Speaking of which how is your posture today?’ he asked turning to inspect Christine’s spine. She immediately grew six inches and thrust her rounded shoulders back to align her spine in a perfectly vertical position. ‘Will you stop picking Stefan. Everything is about physical looks with you. I’ll have you know that a lot of girls have bad posture so as to not poke out their breasts and draw attention to themselves.’ ‘Why that is utterly ridiculous. You’ve got to accept your lot in life and use whatever faculties you are furnished with to get where you’re going. So poke out your breasts and use your beauty to complement your brilliance.’ ‘You think you’re pretty smart but you’re not,’ said Christine firmly reaching over to touch Stefan’s head. ‘You’re hair is blonde after all and there’s no use in denying it.’ ‘Ah, but it is naturally blonde and not enhanced with peroxide. A dumb blonde’s hair colour is a symptom of stupidity rather than a cause. Besides I know that I’m smart because if everybody were as ingenious as me I would not be half as clever.’ Cracks of amusement formed and tore the stern mask from Christine’s face again as she said, ‘You’re simply impossible sometimes Stefan, really you are, and oh so painfully annoying.’ ‘But I challenge you just like you challenge me,’ he asserted. ‘Oh you don’t need me to challenge you - you challenge yourself,’ retorted Christine. ‘If anything I stabilise you.’ ‘Indeed stability is the one thing that has been wanton in my life for some time. After an array of short and turbulent relationships I’m glad that you have come into my life like a much needed ballast in a storm. I don’t think that I could weather the pain of another break-up again.’ They stared dreamily into each others eyes for a moment, he in awe of her flawless form and she bewitched by his potent charm. The magnetic force of mutual attraction pulled their lips together to release the fierce passion of strained debate that had festered and matured within each of the lovers. ‘Just look at those two making a spectacle of themselves by frolicking on this crowded beach!’ commented the tattooed youth to his fair haired companion. She returned his sentiment by shaking her head in disapproval of the lustful sight that trapped her attention yet could not help admitting, ‘but my they do make a handsome couple.’ The gentle March wind howls its sombre lullaby and relinquishes fiery red and yellow leaves from a weeping parents weakening grasp. Orphans sent forth involuntarily into the wide world they oversee, fluttering down enthusiastically to certain demise. And below the city’s throng scatters indoors to reflect, as it’s time to cool the blood and calm the senses once more for the cold bitter nights gather in number ahead. ‘Here we are,’ Stefan announced with vigour, trying to inspire some enthusiasm in a lacklustre Christine who had clearly been losing interest in him of late. ‘Tonight I will go all out to impress and restore fire to this flagging romance,’ he worryingly thought to himself in silence. ‘So this is it?’ Christine curtly replied glancing uninterestedly into the large restaurant window before them. ‘Well at least try to look excited,’ encouraged Stefan, ‘it is your birthday after all, and if you don’t smarten up you will not receive your surprise later on!’ ‘Surprise?’ she repeated with obvious curiosity. ‘That’s right gorgeous - a big surprise,’ he reinforced building up her expectations even further. ‘Oh I’m sorry Stefan,’ Christine blubbered with a touch of distant melancholy, ‘it’s the pitiless wind that drags my spirits down these days and stirs my rationale into a whirlpool of venom. I promise that I’ll behave myself from now on and we’ll have a fantastic evening.’ ‘That’s okay,’ he affirmed with a measure of pleasure, ‘Pisceans are overflowing with raw emotion and cannot be blamed for their intrinsic qualities. Let’s forget about it and go inside.’ The restaurant was quite small and warm giving it a comfortable, cosy air. It was principally empty due to the early hour and staff flitted about setting tables and making final arrangements as the rush hour drew near. Stefan and Christine approached the front desk where a sprightly young waiter in immaculate gait was chatting incessantly in an overbearingly camp manner to a friend on the telephone. Stefan stared hard at the waiter to win his attention but could not compete with the fascination of the conversation at hand. ‘This seems like a nice place,’ he remarked to Christine in a loud voice that commanded respect, ‘but it’s a pity about the lousy service!’ The waiter paused mid-sentence, his jowl grinding to a halt and his eye widening in apparent surprise, before instantaneously concluding his inane discussion. ‘My apologies for the delay sir, let me show you to your table,’ he muttered insincerely as he led them to the rear of the restaurant. The couple were seated and Stefan proceeded to peruse the menu indifferently before consciously detecting the piercing glance cast at him from the other side of the table. ‘What’s wrong?’ he exclaimed with surprise. ‘I can’t believe that you just did that!’ Christine protested.
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Copyright © 2001 Bradley Postma |