The Girl From iPanema, Returns.

“Are you driving?” came the voice on the other end; sultry, smooth with a hint of gentle playfulness. “Not really,” I replied, as a wall of noise blared through the telly. “My friend’s playing a driving game.” “Hah..at least I was close.” I could almost see her smile.

The girl from Ipanema is back, like sunburn on a badly scarred skin, it hurts like hell but you can’t help but be amazed at how persistent that grimy crusted skin is seemingly seared onto your body. Like the typical disgruntled policeman, she’s always there when you least expect her to be. The girl from Ipanema inadvertently became the topic of yesterday’s very long and overdrawn lunch. Needless to say, I was told time again, that I should leave South America well and truly alone and return home, where the girls are just as inexorably intoxicating. 

“But, I just can’t seem to find someone as ‘quirky’ as her.” I replied politely but firmly. “Bro,” his eyes tightened the way people generally do when they’re about to say something that may hurt you. “Why don’t you try someone against your convention for once?” I gave a short sigh and told him that I’ve tried someone who was against my character once and it just didn’t go well. The conversation went on for a good two hours before I had to go back to work. 

Later that evening, I went swimming with an old friend of mine. We weren’t even 10 laps in before the sky decided to open up its taps and pour relentless rain on us unsuspecting souls. I told her that everything happens for a reason. Maybe God had wanted us to sit and have a decent conversation instead of lapping the pool like two rabid sea lions. And what a chat we had – wrapped up in warm towels whilst smoking lightly scented cigarettes. 

“It’s easy to fantasize on the things you can’t get,” she said as a puff of smoke gently flowed through her lips. “It becomes a perfect picture in your mind. What if she’s not as you see her through your eyes?” I sat there, astonished at how right she was. I just smiled and told her how surprised I was that she knew exactly how I felt. 

“I was in the same place you were, remember?” she smiled as she exhaled another puff of smoke. We laughed and compared notes over a good half an hour before the sun came out again. Just as we were about to go back into the pool she told me that I should never listen to hearsay and that I should always view the girl from Ipanema the way she is with me. “Maybe she’s different with others,” she told me, her eyes fixed. “But what counts is how she is with you.” You’re an amazing person, Nad. I’m so inspired by how you view life with an open heart and a fresh pair of eyes every single time – it never seizes to amaze me. As night fell and the last vestiges of our cigarettes fell to the ground, we gazed in wonder as the sky turned a shade of amber and the sun set itself into the horizon.

 “Hey, stop being so lazy-lah.” Said the girl from Ipanema, jolting me from my daydream. Her tone was instructive and direct. “Lazy? Why are you calling me lazy all of a sudden?” Was my confused response with the noise of the cars in the background still blaring loudly. “Don’t let other people play your games for you, do it yourself!” With that, she let out a soft giggle. 

Just before we ended the conversation, we both implicitly agreed to ‘bump’ into one another more often. “But” I told her, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “We’ll always have our excuses y’ know.” 

She gave a short pause before responding in her trademark nonchalant riposte: 

“Ha’ah.”