Murphy - Part II

Note to Readers: This is Part II of my post on Murphy. Click on the following link to read Part I: http://bluestockingzblog.blogspot.com/2011/07/murphy-part-i.html

“Hello, again.”

I looked up to see a familiar face but could not quite place him.

“Um. Hi.”

I think he read the confusion on my face because he squatted down on one knee to bring himself to my eye level.

“You don’t remember me?” he smiled and things kind of clicked into place. And I had no intention of admitting that.

“No. I am sorry.” I shoved the book I had been browsing, back into the shelf and got up. Damn. But I had been looking forward to splurging on books this quiet evening. It had been such a long time too.

“Really?” He had followed me out of the bookstore, even as I tried to reach my driver over the phone. Pick up the phone, I prayed. He didn’t.

“Yes”, I turned on him. “Now leave before I get you into trouble for harassing me.” I redialled my driver’s number.

He stood unperturbed next to me. “He is not going to answer the call.”

I started walking up the street. “Not until I want him to”, he continued to speak behind me.

I whirled around. “What utter crap! I do not know who you are, so stop following me around!”

“Really?” he asked once more in a quiet voice, laced with amusement.

And I simply did not know what to do. I thought of – and more than once, mind you – engaging all these people passing me by in putting him in his place but I knew that that would be of no use. Because despite my stubborn refusal to say it aloud so far, I knew him. Despite having met him just once months ago, I knew him. And I had known him a long time before that, curse his blasted soul.

I tried to change tack. “Okay. Okay. I know you think you are Murphy but look I don’t see how it concerns me in any which way. And you know it is not proper to harass a woman on the streets like this. You look like a gentleman, so it would be...”

“I have a deal to propose”, he cut off my tirade.

“A deal?” I sputtered, before reclaiming my usual glib tongue. “What sort of deal? And why would I be interested in that?”

“A deal that would rid you of that wretched law of mine.”

My eyes went wide at that. But I came to my senses. “Get lost.”

I quickly strode away from him, refusing to look back. My phone rang. My driver was calling to enquire where I was. I gave him my location and as I got into the car, I pretended to just cast my eyes around. He was nowhere to be seen.

Good riddance, I thought to myself. But then why did I feel as if I had lost an opportunity?

I had no answer to that, until we met again.