Twisted Review – T2 Re-Redux

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It was a dark and stormy night.

“What you writing?” Pippa leaned over my shoulder and peered. Suddenly her face suffused with rage, and she snatched the sheet from the typewriter and tore it into little shreds. “Wat-issa matter with you-ah? Always same: dark-and-stormy-night, dark-and-stormy-night! Why love so much dark!! Why no write white-and-stormy day!” She lapses into pidgin whenever she loses it.

I sighed. “It’s a writer’s thing, dear. It’s an old line that everyone understands. Well, almost everyone. And you should be happy; it’s about you.”

“Dark-and-stormy is Black. Black Knight! You are cheating! I am of Panda family. Pandas are White!”

“Look, be reasonable” I said, “even your elder sister Angie didn’t kick up such a ruckus about my writing. Frankly, I don’t know why I bother doing these reviews anymore. I try to make you look good. But it’s becoming a thankless task.”

“You. Still. Seeing. Angie?” she asked softly. When Pippa speaks softly, grown men run for cover.

“Well,” I blustered, “you know, you’re such a strong partner, you wear me out. When I’m feeling weak, I need a more supple partner to keep me going on the floor.”

She leaned in close, her eyes slits of venom. “I see you out again wit her, I wrap her around your neck. You weak, you go to bed! No play!”

“Y’know, you’re just too good for me!” I exclaimed in frustration, “maybe you should go live with Darth, you’re more his type. I’m just too weak and insecure for a strong partner like you.”

“You’re jealous of Darth!” she exclaimed triumphantly, “I knew it! Darth knows how to dance with a strong lady, but you’re just a pathetic apology for a player!”

“That’s right,” I said weakly, “but why are you still here?”

“Mens! They all same-same, never-mind” she huffed and exited.

* * * * * * * * * *

“It’s safe now, you can come out” I said wearily, scant seconds later. Warily, Angie emerged from the kit bag. “That girl needs to attend anger-management sessions” she grinned. “Although she’s my younger sister, I gotta say, it doesn’t take much to get her into a black mood” she quipped.

“Oh stop it already!” I cried, “I’m trying to decide where to go to celebrate our second anniversary. Do you have any ideas?”

“How about going to the waterfront gym for a dinner and dance?” she said. “Angie, I like that. You’ve got 30 minutes to change and get your make-up on, and we’re gone before Pippa changes her mind!” I said.

* * * * * * * * * *

I go through these phases where I’m certain I’ve outgrown supple, flexible yet tough partners like Angie, and I go searching for partners with a much stiffer back, and the more hard-headed types. But a little while after I dance with them on the floor, I’m confronted with the realization that I just don’t have the strength to manage those super-sleek, tough ones for long.

That’s when I go back to my trusted partner, Angie, especially when I’m playing doubles. She is my soul-mate, and more so when I’m feeling vulnerable. She never gives me a hard time, just responds to the moment, and lets me play my game so easily! I’ve heard many people say that after a couple of years of hard play, your racket just ain’t as good as it used to be. Well, it ain’t so for Angie. She’s still the same as she was, the day I first saw her hanging there on the wall… and she still brings a lump to my throat when I pull her out and stride with her to the dance floor.

Time changes all of us though, humans and carbon fibre alike. Angie and I have played our parts in many battles, and we both bear scars and injuries. Angie takes it worse than me. She is always afraid she will lose pride of place to a newer, brighter, faster, more powerful relative of hers. Or end up on craigslist.

But us humans is funny creatures; we can get very sentimental and emotional about some things. For me, Angie does it every time. She’s still good enough to partner me on court, and she dances like the wind on the mountaintop when the mood is upon her. I just think we belong together, and I can never bring myself to lose her. Until, that is, until Time himself sunders us…

And that is why I said, I cannot write about any relative of Angie’s. No, never. Never, never, ever. It just wouldn’t feel right. They’re all nice girls, its true, and some may dance better than Angie I daresay. But I’ll take my Angie over them, warts and all. She is my old glove. My worn shoe. My old friend and partner. An Old Friend is to be treasured forever.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ulrike, Priscilla, Tripper and Pippa. All great creations. But Angie is my revelation. This evening of dance and revelry, I dedicate to my second anniversary with Angie.

And as we walked off, hand in hand into the sunset, I could swear I felt Angie turn and with a wink and a naughty grin at the camera, whisper.

“Never say never…”