DAVE O. R.A.N.T.S. : GHOST OF GIRLFRIENDS' PAST

“GET A LIFE”. Those were the last three words I said to her when we broke up in high school. I’m pretty sure she took my advice very seriously, because she did exactly that. She went on to become valedictorian of my class and graduated with honors. But wait, I can hear you asking, what about you? Well, I barely even graduated at all. Fast forward 7 years; now she’s the CEO of one of the biggest fashion houses in the country.

And so one day I’m walking from job interview to job interview, which seems to be all I do these days – if there was a job that involved attending job interviews, I’d probably win employee of the month; hell, employee of the century even! I’ve got on a scruffy suit which, by the way, is the most expensive thing in my wardrobe even though it cost next to nothing, and I’m wearing a pair of shoes I borrowed from a friend – plus the fake watch on my wrist is broken so I can’t even tell whether or not I’m on time for my interview.

So basically, I’m walking along the road looking sad and feeling sorry for myself. Next thing, a black Range Rover pulls up beside me and whoever is inside starts horning at me. You know the deep, throaty horns that these new SUVs have, the kind that can make you jump out of your skin? Just so. I mean, this horn could’ve woken the dead if allowed to go on for long enough.

I’m thinking, “There must be some sort of mistake. This person can’t be horning at ME. I don’t know anyone that owns a Range.”  In fact, the only person I know that has a car is Eddy the next-flat-neighbor, who just bought a Volkswagen Beetle last month (the car has stopped working, by the way). So there must be some mistake. I continue walking, lost in my thoughts, until I hear somebody call my name. I stop dead in my tracks. That voice!! Could it be - ?! I mean, is it really - ?!

I spin around spot a familiar female shape standing by the open door of the Range Rover. I peer closely at the person and my heart instantly kicks into high gear, like I’ve got some very angry woodpeckers in my chest. It’s her! I MEAN, IT’S HER!! I instantly try to dodge into the nearest alley, but to no avail – there’s none close by – so what follows is an attempt to jump into the nearest basket of fishes. Take your shot at guessing how that turned out.

Finally, feeling very embarrassed, plus my whole outfit has begun to smell like fish, including the shoes – my friend is going to kill me – I turn to acknowledge the person calling my name.

“Yes?” I whisper. With a mighty cry she rushes to give me a hug. I tentatively put my arms around her. Suddenly I feel very conscious of the fact that I haven’t had a shower in two days. I probably smell like a donkey. I mean, I probably smell like ass. Like fishy ass.

She doesn’t seem to mind though. She hugs me for a long time before pulling away. She immediately starts peppering me with questions.

“How are you?”

“How have you been?

“Gosh, you really went off the radar! Where have you been?”

“Where do you stay now?”

“Are you married? “  (She winks mischievously after asking this one.)

“What do you do for a living?” and so on.

I try my best to answer her questions as they come but there’s only so many words that one can say with one breath. After a few seconds of this she keeps quiet and just stares at me with a great big smile on her face. One would think that she had just gotten great news, and not that she had seen her penniless ex-boyfriend of a relationship seven years prior to the present encounter.

Suddenly a frown creases her forehead and I think, here it comes. She’s about to realize that she really doesn’t want to be seen talking to the likes of me.

“I have a meeting I have to get to,” she says. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a business card, then scribbles on it and sticks it in my jacket pocket. “Call me as soon as you can.”

Then she climbs into the back of the waiting vehicle.  Owner’s corner, I note. “It was lovely seeing you again, John.” She murmurs. “Remember to give me a call. We have to get together sometime soon.” And with that she pulls the door shut and the Rover speeds away from the curb.

I stand there on the street for what must be like an hour; staring stupidly in the direction the car went long after it disappears from my sight. Then finally, with a stupid grin on my face, I continue on my long walk to the next job interview.

And that’s it for flashbacks. Back to the present.  As I write this, I’ve got my thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button on my phone. I’ve already punched her number in, but I’m hesitant…to call her or not to call her? Millions of questions race through my head: Is she really interested in seeing me again? Should I call her? Will she be happy to hear from me? Should I call her? What if I call and she doesn’t pick the phone or worse, she hangs up after I say it’s me? Should I call her?

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