The Judgement

"Are you going to eat that?", I said. He had been playing with the apple idly while we talked, twirling it on the table top and shifting it from hand to hand. I wanted to sound as relaxed and unconcerned as he seemed to be, as he always did. My bemused smile was in place and I was looking at him with friendly, genuinely inquisitive eyes, I thought. This was his great style when talking to anybody. But then I said  "Or what?". The mildly impatient tone  cracked the cool facade ever so slightly. He suddenly grabbed the apple and threw it high into the air, too high, I thought. But he made no attempt to eye it as it sped upwards and, a second or so later,  it dropped comfortably back  into his open palm. "Hmm!" he said. Whether this was in satisfaction at the outcome or in answer to my question remained to be seen.



He lay back in his chair and stretched out his legs, calmly resting the apple on his stomach and enclosing it carefully in both hands. In another person, this would have looked like a bit of play-acting, an attempt to seem super-relaxed, but he had no need for play-acting. He turned a playful gaze upon me, a slight arching of his eyebrow indicating that he was keen to hear, or at least he would be amused to find out, what I really wanted to say.



"You could just go up and ask her, you know. There she is!" I said this with a grand, theatrical gesture in her direction, which I suddenly thought could have been interpreted as mockery. I had not looked at her but I knew she was there. I had seen her come in with her two friends, the one who found everything hilarious and the one who was permanently embarrassed at this hilarity. Over lunch, I had managed not to look over too much  but they were in my line of sight, chatting and texting and laughing at the funny texts and pictures they were swapping.



It was impossible, though, to keep her out of my thoughts. The slightest sound from that direction conjured up a stream of images, close-ups of every beautiful aspect of her face and head and voice which I had glimpsed in the course of the transient, amiable banter we had exchanged  over the last few weeks.



"Why would I need to?", he said.  "Need to what?", I said, momentarily distracted by her wondrous laugh. "Why would I need to ask her?", he replied, looking as if he genuinely wanted to know why. Of course, in a sense, it was a  stupid question. For as long as I had known him, he had been involved, for all I could see, monogamously, sometimes for months at a time, with a stream of fantastic girls. There was never any idea of him "going after" anyone. His friendly charm worked on everyone, but even more powerfully on the females. It had worked on her, I ruefully thought. He never seemed to work hard at it. Whenever he became interested in someone, they, miraculously, it seemed, or naturally, as he seemed to think, "went after" him.  Moreover, when a particular affair had run its course, he seemed to be able to move on to the next without any rancor, or even any ill feeling.



Yet he had asked me a question, in answer to mine. He not made a statement, or cracked a joke. And he had repeated the question. Normally, he would not even have asked such a ridiculous question, but now he wanted an answer to it. And all that fiddling with the apple, especially after she had entered the room? What had that been about?



He had not been involved with anyone for over a month now. That was when she had appeared in our circles and it was curious that he would nevertalk about her directly. We were all immediately struck by her personality as much as her looks, so she was the topic of  many a conversation. He just listened, a wry smile on his face, nodding indulgently occasionally, finding the whole thing so amusing. No-one would say anything remotely crude about her. She was so much everyone's ideal, though she herself always seemed to find the attention somewhat amusing, if obviously understandable. I noticed, though, that his pleasant demeanor darkened a shade if anyone veered towards getting too excited in discussing her. The change was almost imperceptible, but I knew him, and saw there was no hope for me.



"Me, if I thought I had a chance, I would go over right now and ask her", I said. "Why don't you?", he said, brightening up at something I had said and pleased to be back in charge of the conversation. "I am not in her class", I said, the pain of the truth turning my bemused smile into something like a grimace. He positively beamed as he leaned forward and looked me over in theatrical scrutiny. "Oh, I wouldn't say that", he said finally, emphasising "that" for comical effect. "In fact, why don't you ..." He had turned round to gesture towards the table where the three friends sat. "You don't have to", he said with exaggerated relief. "They are on their way."



Indeed they were heading in our direction. Probably they were on their way out, but they stopped at our table. "Well, have you decided yet?", her friend asked, finding it all hilarious. "Decided what?" It had naturally fallen to me to ask the question, and I did it with as innocent an expression as I could manage in that painful situation. "You know darn well!" she said, with a sly look over me at him."You boys have been in suspiciously close discussion for the last hour". "We were discussing my lunch", he said in his most innocent and open manner. "This!" He held the apple aloft in one hand, as if it was a great prize. He turned to her other friend. "And what were you discussing?" he asked  pleasantly. "Same as you, I suppose", she said, and looked shyly at the others. "And did we come to any grand decision", he said, smiling and abstractly throwing the apple into the air.



All noise in the room seemed to have stopped as we gazed at the apple rising slowly into the air. This time, even he was following its track, and with some concentration, perhaps even anxiety. Then it began its descent towards his waiting, empty hand. It never reached its fated destination. She casually reached out and took possession of it in mid air. She looked at it for a second with great satisfaction, then, rubbing it on her breast, her eyes sparkling, she said, "Would you like to share my apple?". She was talking to me.