Sunday, October 18, 2009

David the Perfect

One more glance around the room revealed candles, lighter, Waterford champagne glasses placed next to the chilling Dom Perignon as the soft firelight danced across the teakwood floors and vaulted ceiling. The Apple wood scent filling the room into the far corners was subtle sweetness. All was perfect. Fluffing the pillows and arranging the objects ‘de art one more time, he admired his romantic creation, “Better do one more sweep.”
Controlled perfection radiated from each vista he viewed. “Well that’s as good as it gets.” He smugly remarked as he glimpsed the last room.
More than picture perfect each immaculate scene was right out of Architectural Digest. The perfection of a lifeless life, a still life frozen in time before the flowers wilt or fruit begins to decay, perfect enough to make your skin crawl, a truly sick perfect.

One more trip to the bathroom to release the building tension, he gazed upon his impeccable reflection in the wall to ceiling mirrors. Snappily dressed for causal comfort, he oozed Armani confidence. Checking his teeth, he flossed imaginary gunk from his smile. The ticking Louie the 14th mantle clock kept his mind in tune with the time. Its sound resonated with his heartbeat.
“She’s late... again.” He smoothed back his hair, brushed off his broad shoulders. “Late again, even with that Rolli… She could at least look at it.”
The fire burnt low, the chill was off the champagne as he sat utterly still staring at the mahogany door. The pillows, still perfectly fluffed, remained ready but the ramrod straight figure couldn’t relax. The pristine mood had turned sullen. The twisted shadows loomed from the corners to darken his mood even more. The small ring box sat with its hinged lid open displaying a 40 carat diamond surrounded by emerald baguettes.

He would never forgive her for this. His mind that was always locked with his own importance became narrower by her exploit. Images filled his mind of her death which would be the only excuse that he would accept for her rude behavior. Maybe the car broke down, but the Mercedes XL was brand new and the cell phone the best there was on the market. Maybe there was a car accident; after all she was very unfocused. Image after image trudged through his mind all night long. The morning light found him red eyed from lack of sleep and alone.
The Mercedes hummed along headed for Vancouver. The wind whistled through the skies on the roof rack, steam rose from the Hilton’s breakfast bar coffee and the suitcases settled in the trunk from the hasty packing. The early morning light touched her diamond wedding band sending rainbows around the interior. Who would have thought she’d get hitched in a Vegas wedding chapel? Cruising along, she pictured David, the Perfect, sitting still waiting for her. He was so predictable and she had gotten what she needed from him: new Mercedes, new designer cloths, new ski instructor. David had insisted upon private lessons the only perfect way to learn how to ski. Private lessons - very private lessons that lead to this very private quick wedding and honeymoon. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends after all they had told her to dump David.

Jean Paul offered her so much more than David ever could. Even with all David’s money, especially his money, he could never buy the imperfection of love. Reaching across the seat she held her new husband’s hand as the impacted deer smashed through the windshield.
The police investigation team noted the lack of skid marks as the wrecker pulled the totaled Mercedes from the crash site. The game warden had counted 16 points on the buck’s rack. The shattered body would feed the shelter folks for a time. Meanwhile the road crew collected the scattered belongings including the “We’re on our Honeymoon” sign. The hearse heading for the morgue pulled past the crew and their small tangled heap of ruined worldly goods.

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