|Dangerous Loving (standard:drama, 1495 words)|
|Author: Cyrano||Added: Dec 30 2008||Views/Reads: 1753/916||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Tom Schofield won't be home as promised. Katherine, his wife, gets the news in the middle of the night. She's one month from giving birth to their first child.|
The shrill noise shatters her sleep. She gropes in the dark, knocking the cell phone to the floor. Cursing under her breath, sprawling out of the warmth she blindly feels for it and pushes herself back onto the bed, sweeping her hair behind her head. “Hello.” The voice down the phone is somewhat gargled... “...Yes, yes, I can barely hear you, hi honey.” Lying in the darkness Katherine listens to the sombre, distant voice in her ear. “What does that mean...” She replies, resting an arm across the bump of her stomach. There's an uncomfortable silence... “Is that it, Tom? You swore you wouldn't be away more than two weeks, you've been gone three.” Tears well, stream down her face. In her stomach the faintest sensation of movement. “I can't bring myself to say it's okay. Just know that I love you, and have to accept who you are. Be careful. Keep in touch somehow.” She drops the phone on the bed, resting both hands on her stomach. It's 2. A.M. She slips beneath the covers. Sobbing. * Tom Schofield boards the hydrofoil, having passed through the congested immigration barriers, and sits back in the air-conditioned cabin as the craft skims across the hazy South China Sea. It isn't long before the islands of the British Colony are looming on the horizon, skyscraper's rising through the pollution along the man made shores of Hong Kong and Kowloon. His skin feels oily, his hair, and the midnight heat is a blanket hotter than hell. He disembarks, passing through yet more immigration terminals, and joins the sweating crowd along the walkway above Connaught Road. All the time he's remembering his promise to Katherine, thinking about her glorious nakedness, the satin touch of her skin, imagining her here amidst the clamouring and jostling and the spicy smells of China. * Katherine slaps her hand down on the button of the alarm clock, instinctively caressing her stomach. It's an elbow this morning, not a knee. After eight months she knows the difference. The urge to pee overtakes sentiment and throwing the covers aside she briefly looks at her swollen eyes in the mirror, feeling the child deep down preparing itself. * In Hong Kong cars, buses and taxi's pour out pollution. The night is sick with heat. The teeming masses saunter up and down the narrow streets, the ladder passages and alleyways, selling, driving, and partying. It's chaos and confusion. Smells sift from doorways and windows like memories. The maddeningly awful heat has beat down all day on the towering business blocks, resettlement blocks and the squatter's shacks, on the sweeping swathes of elevated highways and byways, underpasses and flyovers, on buildings yet being built on mountains bared for more industry. The heat has seeped into everywhere, into the narrow back streets, the ladder streets, and smothers the jostling on sidewalks. Tom Schofield moves with the night crowd in a clamorous, anachronistic, capitalist surge of people on an island no longer governed by the British. Hong Kong is a strange, unusual, and dramatic place. On his mind one question: Shall I call their bluff? He wants to leave this crazy place and start life over. He looks at his watch, after midnight. * Click here to read the rest of this story (117 more lines)
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