Projecting the Wild Man

"Good, then the press would think I am here for the councillor meeting. I guess I would have to explain to you. Someone had tipped off the press that I was in the hotel with Lisa. Don't you not know her? She is married to the richest businessman in this city. So I figured that if I could prove to the press that I was having a meeting with my assistant to discuss the upcoming councillor meeting, the unconfirmed rumour would be dispelled as untrue." He said, looking at me.

I was relieved to have been able to help him. Yet deep in my heart, I felt a pang of disappointment with him. He had a liaison with a married woman. He tried to get away with it by using my noble idea as an escape route. He was using me. Maybe yesterday too he was here with her. In this suite making the most amorous love.

Maybe I deserved it. I had overstepped my boundaries at work, so now he expected me to solve his personal problems. I bit my lip nervously. I had never orchestrated such a scheme before. I did not know what I was getting into. It compromised my value system.

"I think you should get changed, Mr Wild." I said.

"You're right. I'm sorry for yelling at you over the phone." He said.

I shrugged it off. Saying sorry came easily for him but it meant nothing personal as long as he got his way.

Five councillors out of the ten did turn up for the meeting. It was a productive meeting as well. At the end of the day, he had moved closer towards his political aspirations. They had discussed ways to promote tourism to our city among others. I was relieved that my drafted agenda was received well by him.

I felt drained after the meeting. I wanted to go home straight to bed. Yet he ordered me to stay in the suite when I asked him if I could go home. It was already dinner time then.

"I'll order room service for us." He had said.

I carelessly made a choice of fish and chips when he asked me what I wanted to eat. He ordered some baked salmon with salad and potatoes.

"Thank you Ana - for today. What you had done for me. I appreciate it more than words can say." He said.

"You're welcome, Mr Wild." I said.

I could not help thinking that he was doing what he could to get me on his side. He needed me now. We were allies. He did not want me here. Want was different from need. I knew Ben needed me, but he did not want me. I felt a little upset.

It was a rather intimate meal by my standards. I was alone in the suite with a man and the bedroom was only a few meters away. The lights were dimmed and candles were lit up by the waiter who brought us our dinner.

I think he waited for me to ask him something about Lisa or what happened. I did not. I pretended to concentrate on my food, gazing at him now and then to the extent to which it would be prim and proper to dine with someone.

I knew that he was observing me more than I felt comfortable with. He was trying to figure something out about me.

I hoped that I looked professional and presentable. I knew my hair was now in a mess. The chignon do in the morning had collapsed into tousled waves of a barely there hair do.

"It's been a long day." I said, yanking my hair roughly into a bun again.

"I want to tell you that whatever you saw today is not to be spoken off again; to me or to anybody else. And if I find that you sold my story to the press, there will be consequences. You will regret it. I'll make life difficult for you. Is that clear?" He asked, raising his knife from the salmon at me and gesturing about with his hands like he often did.

I jumped from the table at the sight of the knife. Unfortunately the door was on his side of the table. I ran towards the bedroom. I locked the door. I knew one day my time would come, but I did not figure that it would be this soon.

"What the heck..." Mr Grumption blurted out.

I stayed in the room. I was panting; my breath was shallow and quick.

"Silly woman! Come out. What are you doing? You...oh, you think I am going to kill you with this knife? What do you take me for? An animal? You are so stupid. A plain idiot." He shouted from the other side of the door.

Eventually I did make my way out of the door. He shook his head when he saw me.

"Come now, sit and eat. You understand that, right?" He asked.

I nodded. In my heart, I felt that my life was difficult enough with him around. I wondered how much more difficult it could be. Yes, I had no intention of informing the press or doing anything like that for quick cash. It was just not in my character for such action.

"Mr Wild." I said clearly and softly.

"You can trust me. I won't turn against you. You have my word." I said.

"Words, what are words anyway?" He asked.

I did not know how to answer that. Had he wanted me to go into a long philosophical tirade from Socrates to the Professor in university which I respected on linguistics in interaction, I would have. But it was not what he wanted to hear.

Without giving it a second thought, I moved my right hand across the table. I squeezed his resting hand tight in mine. They were so very warm and full of life.

He gazed at me in astonishment.

"What are you doing?" He asked, barely in a whisper.

"No words. Just by actions. I promise you your secret is safe with me." I said.

Immediately after saying that, I released his hands. I found my hands to be damp from sweat, fear and a surrender of not knowing what I felt in addition to those vulnerable feelings. I only felt it but could not describe it in coherent reasoning. It was deep and it probed my whole body; causing it to reverberate more than necessary.

"You amaze me Ana." He said softly.

There was a deep resonance in his voice.

"The feeling is mutual, Mr Wild." I said.

"I amaze you, Ana?" He asked.

It felt stuffy and still in the suite. I walked towards the glass panel and tried to pry the latch open from the windows.

"I believe in your political aspirations. You'll make a good Governor." I said, this time clearly and smiling him a broad smile. I wanted to lighten up the atmosphere. The conversation was going in the wrong way. It did not seem professional anymore to me.

He came from behind me and put his arms around me except that he was not touching me. His hands deftly pried open the rusty metal lever at the window pane. A gush of the northern wind blew in. My loose chignon swept back like a tornado and brushed his face. I turned towards him instinctively because I wanted to say sorry for that unmanageable hair action. Yet my cheek brushed his.

We gazed at each other. Just like it was on my first day at work. I felt something churning in me. I saw his head bending lower and lower. He never took his gaze off me.

A voice yelped in me. I freed myself from his partial grasp.

"Sorry, strong wind. Bad idea to open the windows." I said, pulling the lever a little closer to the wall.

In the process, our hands touched. I felt fear suddenly. I moved back towards the table.

I did not want to be his latest conquest. Who knows where his morals stood? I did not want an office liaison too. I just wanted to work and see him get elected Governor eventhough he was a man of many facets; some nice and some not so nice.

Perhaps it was all very innocent on his part. It was only me blowing the whole thing up. I had to pull myself together. I was having a working dinner with him because we had a long day. There was nothing more to it.

When he saw that I had returned to the table, he did the same.

"Come, let's talk. It is boring to be eating with someone and not saying anything. I'll tell you about myself. I am bold, determined and tough. I like to be in a position of power and fame. I like people to respect me. If it comes with bettering society, then that is my job. Nobody is totally idealistic. I trust no one except myself." He said.

"What about you? How would you describe yourself?" He asked.

"Efficient." I said.

"Is there more than just being efficient?" He asked, smiling the winning smile.

Ah, politicians certainly had this way of presenting themselves. He was a natural.

"I am patient. I am kind. At least I like to think of myself that way." I said.

"Are you seeing someone? Are you dating?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"Why?" He asked.

"I think men see me as too efficient to be of romantic interest. After a problem is solved, they leave." I said in the cheeriest voice I could.

I wanted to show him I was one strong, tough woman too.

Yet my words seemed to have stabbed him in the chest.

"Not all men are like that." He said suddenly.

"My ex-husband was. You also see me as efficient, remember?" I asked.

I meant it as a joke. I felt the conversation was getting too personal again.

He was silent. I said nothing. I drank my orange juice.

"Would you like ask me more about Lisa or my relationships with women? Since I have heard from you your viewpoint on men, you might be interested in my viewpoint on women." He said after a few minutes of silence.

"Really? Do you feel comfortable telling all your secrets? Remember that you had said never to speak of what happened this morning again?" I asked, surprised.

"Well, you never really thought I would carry out my threat, did you?" He asked in a serious tone.

"I do not know. You seem a very intense person. I do not know you well. It's only three days since I worked with you. Everything happened so quickly within the space of three days. Day one you yell at me, day two you call me to attend that function and today we are solving your private problem." I said.

"What could I have done? Do you think me a bad man?" He asked.

"No, no." I said instantly like a cracker.

I did not think of him as a bad man but I did not think he was an entirely good man either. I hoped he did not ask if I thought he was a good man. I could be very direct, much to my own annoyance.

"Lisa and I have been seeing each other for the past three months. This relationship is based on the understanding that it is going nowhere. She is married and bored, while I just love the pleasure of beautiful women." He said.

"Do you not have some feelings for her?" I asked.

I was curious.

"Yes, I do love her body. Apart from that, she is pleasant company. She makes me forget about work and stress." He said.

"Be careful. One day you might just hurt yourself. Sometimes love grows when you least expect it." I said.

He laughed a forced laugh.

"Women who know how to get me are women who idolize power and fame. I know what I am getting into. And, hey, both of us are the same in regards to the opposite sex. I don't trust them." He said.

We spent the night talking about general stuff and our belief systems. I did not feel pressured at all now. I guess we both loosened up towards each other. He made me laugh. I made him laugh. We talked like old friends. It was a nice feeling. I guess I could accept him as a good friend too.

I finally realised it was late when I heard the clock in the square chime. It was exactly midnight. No wonder I heard the clock. In this small city, all activities cease by midnight. I jumped from my seat.

"No." I said, grabbing my coat and flinging it over my shoulders.

He got up languidly, seemed in no hurry to leave.

"It's midnight!" I cried, making a move towards the door.

"It's not right to spend the whole day at work!" I said.

Privately, I scolded myself. It was also not right spending the whole time with the person whom you worked for over such a long dinner.

"Come in late tomorrow. Come in after lunch. You have my permission. I'll tell the staff that you worked overtime." He said.

In the eerie silence during the wee hours of morning, I wrote in the notebook.

"The Training of Mr Grumption into the Ideal Gentleman"

By Ana Pollock (world-weary in the world of politicians)

Day 3 - Mr Grumption had a meeting based on my schedule and agenda with the councillors. It went on well with duties and responsibilities for each party to promote tourism.

Problem - He is having an affair with a married woman.

Solution - Get him so busy that he would not have time for women, or look for a potential partner for him. Someone who is single and available. I would prefer the first idea though as I have no one in mind to get him acquainted with. From his choice of bed partner, it would have to be someone breathtakingly gorgeous - a hard find. Or perhaps I should just get him a puppy!

Those were the days of inspiration and joy. I felt my work to be fulfilling and my vocation fulfilled. Whenever he did something which I felt was honourable, I felt myself shine like a shooting star. I oozed with pride and satisfaction. I appreciated my days working for him. I held on to them as though they were my last days on earth.

One of Mr Grumption's concerns then were the low rate of recycling in his constituency. We realized that people threw everything away. Newspapers, clothes, household appliances and furniture. The huge chunks were left to disintegrate naturally or just chopped into pieces into the bins. We held a recycling campaign. During this period, people brought all sorts of unwanted items to the community centre for recycling or reuse. These items would then be allocated to recycling centres or charities.

After a long evening, Mr Grumption and I were the only ones left in the community centre. Someone had brought an ancient looking piano to the centre. Mr Grumption tinkered with the keys.

"It's out of tune but it can be fixed." He said.

"Oh." I said.

I did not pay much attention to it. The piano looked creepy and terribly in need of a new coat of paint on its ridge at the very least.

"Do you play?" He asked me.

I was taken aback. No one had asked me this question before.

"Not in a long time." I replied.

"Why?" He asked.

"I don't know." I said.

"Come and play something." He said.

I refused. I did not want to go near the piano. There was a time when I played, I felt like I was in sync with the universe. Now I do not feel that way anymore. The world is not a fair place to live in. I did not feel like making music because whenever I did play now, it made me question existence and reality. Perhaps I was that intuitive that I felt the questions of every key.

"I'll play then." He said.

"I didn't know you could play." I said.

He did however look like one of those brooding pianists with the handsome, tortured face.

He played Brahms so exquisitely that it made me cry. Tears streamed down my face. I turned away.

"Hush, why are you crying?" He asked.

"You make me cry with your piano playing." I said.

"Is it a good thing?" He asked.

"You have a natural flair." I said.

"Do you like to hear me play?" He asked.

"Yes." I said.

We did not talk about it anymore. We browsed through the other stuff in the hall.

On another occasion, I did manage to get him a puppy. It was purely by chance. I knew I had written in the notebook that I could either find him a single woman, make him busy or get him a puppy to occupy himself with. My thinking was simple. If he had to take care of a pet, he would not have time to conduct a scandalous affair. My thinking was that simplistic that I did not think of what would happen if it backfired.

Sometimes I think God helps me for a reason. He knew what I was going through. He showed me signs. One evening, walking together to the car after a tedious meeting, we heard an animal whimpering in the drain. We went to check it out. It was a little mongrel; yet still a puppy. It was clearly abandoned by his mother. I could not help it. I gave Mr Grumption my briefcase to hold while I scooped it up. The little puppy was dry. Luckily the drain was a dry drain, having no purpose whatsoever. It was one of the issues we discussed at the meeting - of useless drains built at the taxpayer's expense. Yet on this one in a million occasion, I was glad with the council's ineffectiveness.

I caressed the little puppy. It stopped whimpering and looked at me with big, innocent eyes. I was spellbound. I wanted this puppy for myself but I realised that I could not act irresponsibly. I put the puppy down on the curb; gently. It made me think of my own mortality. Of how life really is precious. At the end of the day, all we have are memories. I sought now to live my life to the fullest.

I almost forgot that Mr Grumption was beside me, holding on to my briefcase still. He looked at me, then at the puppy. With a single scoop of his right hand, he whisked the puppy up.

"I'm going to keep this little fellow." He said, patting the puppy on the head.

His gaze was still on me.

He could see that I was surprised. I knew by then that he did not like animals. They took too much time, too much care. That was why all my excuses to get him a pet failed.

"You don't like animals." I said.

He looked a little unnatural with the puppy in his palms too. He was kind of stiff like a robot.

"It would do good for my campaign. For the elections. Publicity. Like Obama's Portuguese water dog." He said; his head bending down to look at the puppy's gender.

"It's a male." He said.

Then I realized, to my amazement; that God had indeed helped me achieve this goal. I had got him a pet. Unwittingly and unexpectedly.

Getting a pet also meant him spending less time with Lisa and more time with me. After two months, he was barely seeing her anymore. During the lunch break, he would go home to make sure the puppy, barely a few weeks old, was alright. He would make some milk in a baby bottle and feed the puppy as it was incapable of drinking on its own.

His relationship with Lisa eventually ended. If it meant that he would be an honourable man, I did not mind spending time with him. He let me come over to his place to play with the puppy. We took the puppy for long strolls in the countryside. We called our puppy simply "Puppy." He said that since we found it together, Puppy was ours forever.

When I played with Puppy, I felt at peace. I saw Mr Grumption play with Puppy. He looked so happy and boyish. He smiled much more. He laughed a lot. We were able to have pleasant conversations now. We were friends, I should think. I am not sure though whether he saw me still as his assistant or his friend, or both.

But there was a limit on which I imposed on myself. Mr Grumption would never be more than a friend to me. He was my boss, and things would get complicated if it were anything more. We did not touch each other at all now. On the few occasions our hands touched, I pulled away. I felt some affinity with him. I was afraid. I was confused. And mostly because I did not want to think about such matters, I reaffirmed to myself over and over again that he felt nothing. He was an accomplished Casanova.

One weekend, in his house, on the pretext of exercising my rights as joint-owner of Puppy, I saw the piano from the community centre in his living room.

"Yes, that's the same piano. Look, it's all brand new after a coat of paint and fine-tuning." He said when I asked.

"Will you play for me?" He asked.

I did this time. A piece titled "Home Sweet Home" by a relatively unknown composer called Albert Jungmann. It was the music of my youth before all the complications started.

"You play from the heart, Ana." He said.

"So do you, Mr Wild." I replied.

In regards to our music-making, we are on par and we see eye to eye without inhibition. We are our music. In daily conversation however, we tend to conceal our intentions with abstract words.

"Life is not fair. Why?" I said to him later.

He studied my expression and told me, "Ana, life is always not fair. That's the general rule. If it were, I doubt that you would have been my assistant. You have the opportunity to out-shine me and yet you don't. I am blessed to have you in my life. Is that why you're saying it's unfair? How can I make it fair for you?" He asked.