Destiny's Gamble

Anti-Manik

At least he's eating. The second the fork lands in Manik's mouth, a cracking sound fills the silence between us. I glance down towards my box to hide my smile. I swear this man could be used to produce electricity by taking energy from the amount of anger he holes up in himself. I fish out a spare fork from a plastic bag and hold it out towards Manik, without making eye contact with him. He snatches it out of my hand, not a word of thanks coming my way.

"Your food's not good," Manik says through a mouthful. "And neither am I enjoying eating it. But I am bearing with its distasteful flavoring because I'm hungry, and like you said, there's no food cart around here that I can grab something from." I nod in agreement when I want to scream, 'Lie, Lie, Lie!' Manik is such a child. He makes excuses for his emotions and for when he loses an argument, simply because his ego is the size of the sun. Quite frankly, I don't mind it though. As messed up as his ways are I don't want to call him out on them, in case he goes back ten steps. We've come such a long way with so much effort that I simply cannot allow all my work to go to waste. 

Manik suddenly sits up, his eyes alert. He shifts the box to his left hand and pats the front pockets of his pants with his other hand. 

"Where's my phone?" He asks, concerned.

"It's with me," I say. "I put in my purse, remember?"

"And I didn't ask you to hand it back to me?" Manik asks, relaxing. He takes another bite of the food, a puzzled expression adorning his face. I shake my head.

"Do you want it now?" I question. Honestly I'm glad that Manik's phone is in my bag and that he completely forgot about it because without that horrid device, he and I actually had proper conversations. He had fun spending time with Keith, and not staring at that small screen. I mean, maybe if he was using his phone back at the fair, then he wouldn't have seen Keith standing alone, and that would've led to him not joining his friend and missing out on an hour or so of pure enjoyment.

"No," Manik replies, sounding unsure. "I didn't think about checking for my phone even once before." His eyes fly up to meet mine, a sparkle in them. "This hasn't happened to me before," Manik announces excitedly.

"Congratulations then," I say, grinning. "Welcome to the real world." Manik smiles, satisfied. 

"Manik," I say after a while. "What's your type of woman?" I place my now empty box back in a plastic bag, and look at him expectantly. He cocks his head to the side, furrowing his brows.

"My type," he murmurs thoughtfully. "I don't...I've never really given that much thought." 

"I have time," I glance around at the children. "Until they finish their ice-creams." I bet Manik's type is someone who wears short, tight dresses, and has perfectly styled up hair and makeup. A woman who is easy, but pleasing at the same time. I mean, Alya's like that and considering he's someone who takes numbers from anyone who approaches him, I have a feeling that is definitely his kind of woman.

"Someone who makes me forget about the world." Manik says, staring at a patch of grass. "A woman who immerses me in her conversations and actions so much so that I forget about my friends, my phone, and give her my absolute attention. Because if I don't, even for a second, then I fear that I will miss out on something great." He tilts his head to the side as he continues to ponder over my question. "A person who I can have meaningful conversations with. I don't want to keep talking about shit all the time, like what brand of whiskey should we have tonight, or when Gucci's Fall line is coming out. Neither do I want someone who tries to attain me by her physique. After all, how long can I stare at a girl's chest or ass? Most of which are fake just by the way."

I nod, absorbing his words. My eyes widen as I come to a realization, and at the same time so do Manik's. He sits up, his chest heaving up and down heavily. Before I can say another word, Manik stands up and marches off towards the jogging track. 

"Manik!" I call out, standing up as well. I want to follow him, but the children will then be here alone. I throw my head back, letting out a sigh of frustration. 'So much so that I forget about my friends, my phone.' Manik's words echo in my head. His type of woman is the complete opposite of what I thought, but that's not why both of our eyes became the size of saucers. It's because Manik described me as his type of woman, and our relationship as his ideal one. 

A smile breaks out across my face. I bite down on my lower lip, afraid that if I don't do so then my cheek muscles will tear. The Devil just made my day. A giggle escapes my lips in disbelief. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to keep my joy in, but it's so hard. I shake my head in amazement at the way I'm behaving. Manik has turned me into a schoolgirl. 

*****

"Walk together," I call out, as I follow the two long lines of children. Manik didn't return, and neither did I expect him to. However, I would like to know what's going on in his head. The Devil is such a highly unpredictable man. Just when I think he will turn one way, he surprises me and takes the completely opposite path. His behavior surely keeps me on my toes.

"Aarav's not coming with us?" Keith asks, falling into stride with me. 

"I think he is," I say. "But I don't know where he's at right now, so if you see him, just tell me." Keith points towards a spot a few feet away from us. 

"He's right there," he says. I follow his finger to find Manik standing near a bench with a woman. Oh, so here we go again with the number giving? I watch as she wraps a strand of her curled up hair around her index finger, the toe of her sneaker touching Manik's. Who in the world does she think she is? 

I divert my gaze back to the lines of children. They've started to pile into the bus. I'm no one to Manik and so the exchange that is happening, or has happened to my right shouldn't bother me. I keep my eyes trained towards the entrance of the bus. I will not look his way. I will not look. 

Okay, one last glance. Just to see what Manik's up to. I jerk my head in his direction so fast that I give myself whiplash. Wincing, I cup the back of my neck, as I take a few steps towards them to get a better look.

"Look, I should get going." Manik's voice enters my ears. Okay, good, I can hear them. "I'm not here alone." 

"Oh, so you have a date?" The woman asks, making me roll my eyes. Does she even know how to spell date? I bet she never had the time because she was too occupied in painting her perfectly manicured nails. 

"Not exactly," Manik replies.

"Oh okay, that's great." The enthusiasm in her voice makes my grip tighten around the handles of the bag. If only this was her neck. "Here's my card." I watch as she fishes out a white card from the pouch that's tied around her waist and holds it out towards Manik. "It has my personal number on it. Give me a call when you're in the mood for dinner."

Manik passes his fingers through his hair, staring at the card as if it's an alien object. Oh please, just accept it already and end my torture. It's not as if a girl has never offered you her number before. 

"I've never had to do this before," Manik says, looking back up at the woman. "So it's a bit strange for me, but I can't accept your card." Is the world ending? Has nature changed its course altogether? Did Manik reject a woman's number? Have I even heard him correctly, or is my mind playing tricks on me by showing me what I want to see and hear. 

"Oh," the woman sounds extremely disappointed. 

"Don't get me wrong," Manik says hastily. "You're everything I would've gone for once upon a time, but now I'm not exactly...Lord, what am I even saying?" Yeah, what are you saying Manik? I'm unsure whether he's more confused regarding his words, or I am. Maybe he's not feeling so well. "I'm..." Manik trails off, clearing his throat. Why is he finding it so hard to speak? My feet are so tempted to march over to them and give the woman a piece of my mind. Let me be his voice. 

"I'm off the market," Manik finally says, my heartbeat increasing upon hearing his words. Either we are in a parallel universe, or my husband has one hundred percent lost it. "I'm married." He lifts up his left hand, showing her the ring I gave him. "I'm sorry."

"That's alright," the woman says, back tracking. "I should finish up my laps." Manik nods, as she turns around and jogs down the track.