Projecting the Wild Man

"You are quite the philosopher now, aren't you? A far cry from a mad woman slapping around in a restaurant." I said, cynically.

"Fine. Do as you wish. Will he be happy?" She asked.

Then inciting me even further, she asked, "How long do you want to keep him miserable?"

I was thinking about what the brainless Lisa Holden said to me. Turns out that she was not that brainless after all. Never underestimate a socialite's intelligence, I told myself.

Will he be happy? I thought to myself again.

I opened my files and looked at it. Then I spoke off the cuff. I did not have a statement prepared but I knew what I wanted to say. The truth will be told. Whether or not it sets me free is another matter. As long as it sets Mr Grumption free. That was all I wanted.

"I just want to say that one year ago, I quit my job doing data entry. I was bored. By chance, I got this job with Mr Wild. I found it exciting and challenging. I enjoyed myself. Ideas were all Mr Wild's. I merely improvised on them. Yes, I admit I did live part of my life through him. But I have no political ambitions of my own." I said in a mouthful.

Everyone was quiet. Photography flash blinded my eyes for a second.

I drank some water. Then I continued.

"I have a rare fatal disease called the Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease that often claims the victim's life within a year of onset. Here is my medical file. Symptoms include visual disturbances, trouble with coordination, weakened extremities, memory lapses, blindness and behavioural changes. According to doctors, I have only a year to live. I consider myself lucky enough. I have been around for one year and I am still healthy." I said.

There was silence and then hushes all over the room. Everyone was looking at me in a different way. The mostly cynical, snidely looks became softer looks. It was a look of pity.

Mr Grumption jumped out of his seat. He glared at me. He glared at the file. He skimmed through it quickly, barely reading it. He looked at me so chaotically that I looked down.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was cracking through the microphone.

I heard some deep, passionate emotion in him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He repeated again, this time his voice broke at the end.

His voice had a huskiness which I had not heard before.

His hands reached out towards mine despite the bulky size of the conference organizer sitting between us. The man stepped backwards and down the podium.

"I didn't want you to treat me any differently. I did not want you to pity me." I said softly, standing up too, reaching out towards him.

Our hands interlocked. Our clasp on each other was tight. Snaps of photographs flashed at us. I felt as if time stopped. It did whenever I was with him. I wanted to bottle time up. I didn't want my time with him to end.

There was an eerie silence. I had to continue my intended statement for his own good. Reluctantly I loosened our grip together. I looked at him, hoping that he would understand. I sat down.

"I was betrayed by a journalist called Jack Jarrow. He is here in the room now. Right there. We went out for a date one year ago. He drugged me, brought me home and ransacked my stuff. He found the notebook in which I wrote my utmost personal jottings. He made a copy of it and put it back before I realised it was missing. It was the worst violation of trust in addition to breach of privacy. Mr Wild and I are going to initiate criminal and civil proceedings against him." I said.

In the midst of my statement, Jack made a dash towards the door but he was blocked by his fellow compatriots. He covered his face. There were snide comments and boos hurled at him from the crowd in the press.

"Let me speak. Let me speak!" He yelled above the crowd.

"I did this under the instructions of Tristan Goldman. He asked me to fish out dirt on Boston Wild. He knew he was not going to stand a chance in the election against Boston's popularity with the public. From the first day I saw them interact, I felt there were some sparks between them. He paid me to do it. I needed the money. I have proof."

Jack bit his lower lip hard that they bled. Then he looked straight at me.

He said, "I'm sorry, Ana. I did not know it would hurt you so. Tristan kept the information all this while. I thought he had forgotten about it. It has been a few months. He did not tell me he was going to use it. It was only when you fought with Lisa Holden did he decide to use the notebook because it mentions her and him. An extra marital affair."

"I forgive you but I'm still starting proceedings against you. For what you did affected not just me but Mr Wild." I said.

Jack nodded and left the room. This time the crowd did not stop him.

"There is another part of the notebook which was not published. It was an on-going thing. Since Jack stole it from me, he only got half of it. Every other day, I write something new. Since you have seen the beginning, you might as well all see the ending." I said.

I opened my notebook and read them the last paragraph of my notebook.

Then I said to the crowd, "Life is a wheel. What I did came upon me. I learnt a lot from this man. He was no longer my project. He became a very dear friend. I became the project and he was the teacher. He made me see the world with different eyes. He made me brave. He made me laugh. He made me mad. He made me essentially me. He made me feel all sorts of emotions that I know that when I die, I'll be happy to take to the grave with."

I could see there were tears in Mr Grumption's eyes. Not only his, but of the crowd of journalists. Some of the women cried.

"Because of all this mess, I hereby tender my resignation as Boston Wild's personal assistant and campaign manager." I said.

Mr Grumption interjected.

"No, you can't. You can't... it's an order!" He yelled.

Since he was still on the microphone, the sound was deafening. There was a shrill background noise when he shouted like that.

"It is my decision to make, Mr Wild. Remember the first time we met?" I asked.

He was surprised. He did not expect that question.

"Of course I do. You made a grand entrance... but what on earth does it got to do with anything which is happening now?" He asked.

"I'm sorry. You told me not to speak about your office door again. But I managed to get rid of that scratch on your door finally. Today." I said.

Tears started to well in my eyes.

"Forget the damn door, Ana. You manage everything in my life even when I screwed up with Lisa. Yet when I talk to you, you conceal everything under that calm face of yours. You would tell me nothing about what you are going through. What are you, some kind of sacrificial angel?" He asked.

There was tenderness in his voice, love in his heart. I could not take it for much longer. I was going to cry.

"Everyday after you leave your office, I quietly smoothen out the scratch with varnish. Everyday since the first day. The scratch was a tough one. It never wanted to go. But I got it out, Mr Wild. Did you not notice? I didn't use wax crayon because it'll make the surface uneven." I said.

He did not reply.

"Nothing is permanent. You will be better off without me working for you. If I could erase that scratch on solid rosewood, you could do it too." I said.

My heart was heavy. I felt like I was dying a slow death.

"I like the scratch there, you silly goose! Why, oh... just why did you do that? Whenever I see that scratch, I see you. I like to be reminded of you. I like to think..." He said.

I interrupted him midway.

"You should not. You should not, please..." I said.

Something perfect was restored now. His rosewood door was in its original state prior to my trail of hard-handedness under the guise of efficiency which transcended beyond the door. I had created a mark in his life and it was my duty to remove it. I had done so. He should be able to get back to his life before I intercepted for just a fleeting moment in time.

"Why, Ana, why? Am I not your Mr Grumption? You asked me to stay, remember? Since day one, you called me Mr Grumption. I thought he was your ex-husband, Ben. But it was me, wasn't it?" Mr Grumption said to me.

His voice was raspy. I was mesmerized by the depths of that voice. Ignoring the crowd, he strode towards me.

"Time changes and heals everything; including your thoughts today." I said.

"I don't have to think, Ana. I need only feel right inside here." He said.

He thumped on his chest as if it were a drum and that he wanted me to hear it; those incessant knocks which beat in anticipation of my answer.

"Feeling compromises your efficiency to the people." I blurted out.

I had no inkling how such a statement could escape my lips.

"Does it also compromise your efficiency?" He asked me achingly.

"What?" I gasped.

"Just answer my question." He shot.

"No. My feelings are not compromised." I retorted sharply.

"Liar! Yet you do it quite well. I would have thought what you told me was true but I know you Ana. Your eyes tell me everything even though your words deny me the satisfaction of hearing you say it." He said.

His voice was acidic. He was aroused, relentless and unpredictable.

"I was a fool not to notice why you were acting the way you did. Sometimes it appeared you were leaning towards me, and then the next moment, you stayed away from me. Forget the employer-employee issues. We're talking about us." He said.

"You were hot and cold all the time." I said.

"Because you were!" He said.

"It doesn't matter, does it? It changes nothing!" This time I yelled at him, repeating what he said to me earlier in the office.

"You love Mr Grumption, don't you?" He asked me, with a tender look on his face.

"What kind of question is that? You know I can't love. My time is coming up soon. I don't want you to embark on something fleeting like the wind. Like me!" I yelled again, this time louder.

The microphone was screeching. Oh, that damn noise.

Tears streamed down my face now. I stepped down the podium where both of us were standing. I hastily rubbed my tears away.

"I love you, Ana. You're my Ana, for now, for always, forevermore." Mr Grumption barked into the microphone.

"You took my breath away the first day you arrived at my office. You made me whole. You inspired me. You made me; me." He continued.

His voice was poetic. He was declaring love to me. And I feared. I feared the now, not the future. I ran out of the room. I did not look where I was going. I just ran like a crazy woman. No wonder they said that the Creutzfeldt-Jakob was a brain disease. Sufferers are usually placed in an asylum and to put it bluntly, they got mad, got a heart attack and then died.

Because I did not look where I was going, I only realized what was happening when it happened. There was bright light in front of me. It screeched with the loud sound of a car horn. I was momentarily stunned. I felt strong arms pull me like a rope to the side of the curb. I hit my head on the road. We rolled a few times on the road like doughnuts. It hurt all over. I did not scream. I was silent all the time.

Before I lost consciousness, I remember looking up at Mr Grumption. His face was full of love. His face was all grubby from the dirt. He held my hands tight. He kissed me on my lips, hard and possessive.

"Live for me, Ana. I beg you to do this one last thing for me. Don't go, please, love." He was pleading so hard.

Then I remembered nothing at all. The world had become a pitch black hole of no return.

Yet I recalled the recurring dreams. Always I heard his voice although I did not see him. He called to me in the darkness and I searched frantically for him. He kept on calling and calling. In those scary dreams, I followed his voice. I could not speak. Somehow my voice was disabled. Nor could I see anything. But I never gave up. I struggled towards his voice.

Then I opened my eyes. Every fuzzy image became clear again in a few minutes. My head hurt. Mr Grumption was looming over me. He was calling me; saying my name. Just like in the dream. Steady and reassuring.

He hugged me tight. He released me when he realized that I was still weak.

"Ana, how are you feeling?" He asked.

He was smiling. His eyes were twinkling. The lush rainforests were a bright green. He looked like an impish elf now, up to something.

"My head hurts." I said.

"You are not going to die!" He said.

He laughed.

I did not find it funny. I might be alive now, but I might not be alive in one years' time.

In between laughter he said to me, barely able to keep the conversation straight, "Apart from a nasty bruise on your head, you don't have the Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. They cannot explain why you had that file. All they can say is that there was a switch in files. They did some research. When you went to the hospital two years ago for a headache, they had a very clumsy intern. She had mixed a few files up before. The hospital called a few days later for another check-up as they realised the mistake. But they could not reach you. They tried for one month and then they gave up. Silly, silly Ana. You refused to pick up the phone. You are in perfect health!"

I was incredulous. I went into shock at the most unexpected time. Yes, the hospital had called me a few days and everyday for one month. I refused to answer any calls. I was terribly upset. I told myself that I would die in peace without medical intervention. I thought they had treatment plans ready for me. I thought that since it was fatal anyway, it was better to live my life the way it was. Even better. I quit my job and started working for the man whom I called Mr Grumption.

Then I laughed. Then I cried.

"All this time...for one year, I thought I had a fatal brain disease." I said.

"I became reckless. I became a yoyo. I loved you but I did not want to pursue it. There were so many things going on in my mind. " I said, looking at Mr Grumption tenderly.

I realised that this was my first declaration of love to him. And I was all teary-eyed. It was not the way I had intended to declare my love for him. I had intended to wear a beautiful, demure dress, put on smoky eye-makeup and blow-dry my wavy hair. I had imagined doing so under a cherry tree when the sun was setting. Just like the days we watched the sunset together. It would be a happy ending; starting with the night; full of promise. With the birth of the stars and the rise of the moon, it would be a renaissance.

He propped the pillow I was leaning against towards him, so that I faced him directly.

I suddenly felt shy. I had this nasty habit of twitching my fingers. I have not done that in a long time.

"So, Ana Pollock, would you like to become Mrs Grumption?" He asked me.

I was overjoyed. I could not stop smiling. I rested my head on his broad shoulders. I felt his throbbing heat beat. It felt so natural to be doing so. I splayed my hands over his chest. How long was it had I longed to touch him like this without any inhibitions. He caressed my hair. He kissed my eyes, my cheeks and finally my lips. I felt his desire for me but I felt his love mostly.

It felt perfect. It felt great. I was over the moon. We both were.

"Mrs. Grumption, how are you feeling now?" He asked me.

"Oh!" I said, shyly.

"I didn't say yes. I have not agreed to that proposition. In fact, I said nothing at all. But I feel terrific, thank you very much," I said, caressing still his broad chest. I just could not stop.

"Hmm..." He said.

"Once upon a time, I had an assistant. One evening over a candle-lit dinner, she too said nothing to me but grasped my hands. Just actions, no words. That was what she told me." My dear Mr Grumption said.

He caught my rummaging hands and squeezed them.

"Isn't that what you're doing? Do you find my chest that fascinating?" He asked.

"It's my headache that caused me to do so. I have a big bruise you know. You could have protected my head more during the fall," I said, burrowing my head like a mouse, burying it into his chest when I could not move my hands anymore.

"Head over heels in love with me, Ana?" He asked, tenderly.

I was still too shy to face him. But I was feeling really, really happy.

"Mmm," I said, kissing his chest.

I could feel his beating heart. It was quite quick. It was a grand beat. It seemed the more I hear, the more it expanded into a dance.

"Come on. Don't be shy. You were always forward with me. You crashed and bull-dozed your way through my work and life. And now, apparently you're not efficient anymore, are you? You seem very demure and shy." He said.

"We're not at work. Why must I be efficient now? I deserve a break." I whispered.

Now I brought my lips to his, gently teasing them.

"You'll marry me, will you not, Ana Pollock? For this, I need to hear you say it out loud." He asked again.

"I need you to do something for me first. I won't marry you if this task is not done." I said.

I was as serious as I could be. It meant a lot to me, the same way it meant a lot to have done what I did with it before. Except that this time I was turning things around.

"Anything Ana. What must I do?" He was completely clueless.

I smiled when I saw him getting restless. This man really did want to marry me. Maybe I could torture him for a while yet. Yet I melted when I saw his lovelorn eyes in deep wonderment of his task.

"I seek your permission, Sir, to scratch your door with my flimsy, strappy heels again - this time for good." I said.

I looked into the enchantment of his eyes.

He turned his head away from me. He faced the window, looking out at the pleasant view of trees and foliage which were part of the hospital garden.

He took his time. As I was denied the opportunity of reading his expression, I could not tell if he was keen with my rather symbolic gesture. My heart skipped a beat. I grew anxious in seconds.

He turned to face me finally. He laughed and laughed.

"I could not bear to keep the silence about this any longer. Do you know the first time my solid door was subjected to the fury of your shoes, I thought that should fate have me marry this woman, God help me. My life would be turned upside down and my personal space ransacked thoroughly. I thought to myself then may God bless me. That was why I turned towards the window. I was smiling. I just found the thought so funny." He said.

Oh¸ Mr Wild..." I said.

"No, Ana. Call me by my name." He pestered.

His voice was gruff.

"Boston..." I whispered.

"See how easy it is." He said.

He was now smiling. It was such a beautiful smile.

"Why would such a thought about marrying me cross your mind barely a few minutes into our acquaintance?" I asked.

"You cast a spell on me." He said.

He brushed my hair and cupped my face with both of his huge, warm hands.

"Admit it. You fell in love with me the moment our eyes met." I said.

I felt safely cocooned by the tenderness of his actions.

"You don't need permission to do anything with my door! Go ahead, do scratch that door again. See how easily you made me fall in love with you just as easily as you made that one scratch." Mr Grumption said.

"Then Boston Wild, yes, I will marry you. Sue me if I don't for breach of promise to marry." I said.

"How's that for being efficient?" I asked.

I leaned a little backwards from him, taking him in his entirety. I could not help smiling.

"Finally, Mrs Wild! You really are wild." He said, grabbing me until we were both breathless.

The media circus was all beyond us. My parents came to visit me in the hospital. My father, being timid, always accepted my freedom of choice. My mother, on the other hand was exactly the opposite of my father. She just had to have the last word.