Mohamed Mazloum
She wasted no time. Walking briskly, she approached him, slapping him with resounding force across the face.
“Why?!” She said, in a voice belying choked-back tears.
He didn’t even seem to react at first. Looking up at her, he smiled gently, his hand gently rubbing his reddening cheek.
“Why what?” He said, with unexpected calm.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you…you liar!” Fuming, and unable to control her anger, she picked up a glass off a nearby table and tossed it furiously, smashing it against the far wall. “Wipe that silly smile off your face, or so help me god, I’ll give you something to really smile about, you bastard.”
He seemingly reveled in the chaos of her vociferous rage; leaning back in his chair, he continued to smile at her, unperturbed by her threats. It was as if he was sure it was all temporary.
And temporary it was.
Her rage gradually subsided, as she collapsed with halfhearted grace into the chair opposite his, her face buried in her hands. Unable to hold back her tears anymore, she started to sob shakily. Apparently moved by her state, he got off his seat and walked over to her, attempting to wrap an arm around her. However, the moment he touched her, her ferocious rage returned in an instant; she pushed him away violently, looking at him with bloodshot eyes.
“You stay the hell away from me!”
Maintaining his calm demeanor, he raised his hands in surrender and leaned against the desk behind him. “Can we talk, at least?” He said quietly, in a manner not unlike testing the waters.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about. You lied to me. You tricked me!”
“Did I? How so?”
She turned to him again, her words came quietly now, but still laden with righteous malice. “How so? It’s easy. You failed to tell me the truth, for some reason.”
“Indeed.” He folded his arms. “But, what is the truth anyway?”
“Don’t try to act dumb. You know exactly what the truth is.”
He shrugged. “Let’s say I do. I didn’t mean it that way; you’re saying that I lied to you because I didn’t tell you the truth. In that case, truth is nothing but what you perceive as being so, which might be different from what others see as the truth.”
“I don’t quite get your point yet.”
“What I’m saying is that truth is -to a large degree -relevant. If what I told you is what I perceive to be the truth, that I’m not essentially lying, am I?”
Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she instead turned her attention to her bag, sifting through it as she talked. “Listen, you did sleep with her, didn’t you?”
“I…uh..yes.”
“Good.” She fished a keychain out of her bag, tossing it over to him. “Here are your keys, and I don’t want to see you again.”
She didn’t even wait for an answer, as she grabbed her bag and left, slamming the office door behind her. She was surprised to realize that she didn’t even feel the desire to cry anymore. As she emerged from the office building, her phone rang.
“Hello? Oh, hey Marcy … Yeah, I just broke up with Plato … I know, right? The next time I think about dating a philosopher, please smack me up the head? Thanks.”
