Literary Works


The Perfect Proposal
By:
Arnel Francis V. Morales

The rain has relentlessly continued for days like it has a mind of its own, not knowing of when it’s going to stop. Every time Dave has an important day in his life, the weather always seemed to be uncooperative. The haphazardly parked 1968 Ford sedan on the narrow driveway revealed that he was rushing home late last night. A salesman for 3 years now, he has never even marked the tail of his dream to become rich by the age of 30- a target he missed two years ago. “A time for everyone” was always his self-comforting pathetic liner every time lapses of bad luck came his way. Dave was determined that he would win his way in the end.

Rushing out as he grabbed his bulky car keys in one hand and leaving his half-finished cup of black roast on the sink, he is faced with the usual dilemma of having a long drive in this tormenting weather – the undeniable condition of his car. The wiper that barely touch the windshield, the half-focusing headlamp that winks from time to time and the unlubricated brake clutches that squeaks, were all but part of the traveling scenario. “What would you expect?” Dave smilingly whispers as he taps the hood of his dilapidated mean machine. “He’s an old pup to bear”. It usually takes him minutes to start the engine, but this time he was lucky to have it in one flick.

The road from Brunskin to New Georgia is a long mile-stretch of slippery macadamized road. Its 6:45 on Dave’s wristwatch. “I must have overslept and drank too much last night,” he thought as he took the sharp curve in the road. The old French restaurant that lies fancy in the heart of the town where he’s heading is famous for their hors d’oeuvre and thick corn potage. Mary, her fiancée for seven years, must have appeared there early, Dave thought. Indeed she has, quite apprehensive already of　what’s going to transpire for the night and slightly inebriated by the Chardonnay wine she ordered earlier. She cannot remember how often she had glanced at her watch and the side window alternately. “Oh my, he’s late again”, Mary thought as she fidgetingly rubs her forearm. She was pretty with her Chinese inspired dress. People who occasionally look at her would be reminded of Audrey Hepburn in “ Roman Holiday” movie. “Will he finally say it tonight? I mean the proposal?” Mary has imagined through the coal-colored eyes of Dave that he will finally utter those sweet “ I love you” and the long awaited “Will you marry me?” The coldness of the night was just perfect. The table was set with the flickering long dinner candle. All she has to do is wait.

Dave’s excitement made him forget that he has to hurdle another half-hour to reach “ Une Promenade”. It’s been a long time since they haven’t dated there. The first time they met, Mary was instantly swept away by the charming panache of Dave, seemingly dashing and romantic. But most of all it was Dave’s honesty and promises kept that made her in-love with him.
Just when Dave wrestled with the steering wheel as he approached another curve, a flash of blinding light coming from a truck made him shut his eyes. It was late realizing that the car skidded to the other side of the road. A loud crash ended the twirling vehicle to a halt.

The deafening sound of Dave’s alarm clock grew louder rousing him to snap the snooze harder. Dave sprinted out quickly from bed, still shaking from the incredulous experience. “I must have overslept.” telling himself while nodding in disbelief. It was 5:00 in the bedside timer. It was a cold rainy afternoon, a weather so perfect for the intended day of proposal.

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