A cliche one on B's black-headed girl friend

She had those scrutinizing eyes that dissent eye-contact and instead scan you as you talk, stopping at places you would hate to be stared at – at least not by a woman almost half your age. Even when she looked straight into my eyes, she seemed to focus more on the lines under my eyes then my pupil. How could B. have fallen for this girl – I thought. She barely smiled, simply stared on....

After few minutes of disjointed conversation and when she had stared long enough at every visible part of my body and at every nook of our living room, I concluded there is no way I can feel comfortable with this girl around. Not just because she made me highly conscious of my fledgling wrinkles and my streaking hair set against her "22" self, but because I could see she is clearly insensitive and lacks basic etiquette.

It usually comes naturally to me – I have met so many of his girl friends in the past, but with her I had to consciously maintain that pleasing demeanour. B. brought us some coffee and sat next to me. I felt so relieved. At least she will have some diversion.

She could be a different person altogether with B. - the thought made me so curious that I could not wait to confirm. As they chatted, it was my turn to scan. Hers was a pretty head, I have to admit, with jet black curly tresses that bounced a little every time she tossed her head laughing. In that white frock, dotted sparsely with brown flowers, she could be passed as a school girl in her mid-teens. Her legs looked a little too lanky for that little frame, but with flats she could have easily camouflaged that. With apparently good dressing sense, proportionate breasts, not entirely abominable when she opened her mouth – she could be quite a prize at one’s arm. And my B. is just 23 and has this thing for the womankind.

I know it is too early to imagine her as a potential family member and lose sleep over, but what if they stick around till they are of age? B. has never got any girl home. I have always met them at restaurants and shopping malls. What if B. is really in love? What if he does not realize she is not my type? What if she weans my son away?

“Why don’t you join us for a drive?”

(Formality, of course)

“Why don’t you guys carry on while I make some food, your Papa will be home anytime!”

We quickly exchanged pecks. Their heights complimented one another, I thought, as they walked out and instead of it providing me mirth – I suddenly turned very depressed.

I would not want wrangle if we were to be left alone in the house. But she is just not the type a woman of my temperament would readily want to hug and kiss. Were she my girl, I would have ladled her a good one on rolling your eye-balls only as much as you are required. My poor B.! May it remain purely hormonal and doesn't get into his head - this girl!

It was too much for my frail heart. I searched for the TV remote.....

(To be contd. -- hopefully)