THE LIGHTBULB

By Johannes Adriaan Snyman

“Honey, Darling…” Lisa muttered with a husky voice which she knew Jacques adored.

Jacques, having known Lisa for only a couple of weeks, was lying comfortably on his white sofa, feet in the air, reading some old music magazine with an overwhelmingly sense of calm on his face. He attributed his light-hearted peace, and calm state of mind to the strong white balance in his decorating tastes, which the French apartment in Cormeilles-en-Vexin was furnished with.

It was around eleven o’clock on a very warm Sunday morning, and with the tall, old-fashioned windows in the living room open, Lisa appreciated the slight breeze filling the room periodically, which provided a refreshing coolness that she in turn accredited to Jacques’ pleasant state of being.
“Honey, Darling…” she said again, in the same tone as before, with no enthusiasm and no expectation of an exciting response from him.

She knew he was quite at his leisure, but she, having in her heart a particular feeling of joy, took some mischievous and silly pleasure in disturbing his line of thought. She searched for a sign of reaction on his face, but wasn’t disappointed when she found none. Her lazy attitude on this perfect day was as comfortable as his lying on the sofa, she herself with her bare feet on the light grey coffee table in front of her.

“Honey, Darling…” she repeated a third time, breaking the valuable and peaceable silence.

“Yes dear?” he said slowly, not lifting his eyes from the magazine.

“The light bulb needs to be replaced, love.”

He paused for, what seemed to her lasted for a minute, but the atmosphere was so relaxing, she wouldn’t dare nudging him for an answer.

“Whose lightbulb dear?” he said in what seemed the laziest tone she had ever heard.

“Yours…” Lisa stretched out the word.

Jacques knew it to be a futile action, but lifted his eyes toward the roof anyway, to see if he can spot what his girlfriend was on about.

She smiled at the thought of him paying attention to her words, how pointless ever it may be.

“So, are you going to replace the light bulb?” she continued.

Jacques, having returned his attention to the article he was trying to read, tried not to smile, as he knew she was just being silly. Somehow he liked it about her, smiled inwardly and for the moment, refused to acknowledge his emotion toward this easy going girl who doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

“Jacques honey…” she continued, by know unable to hide the laughter in her voice.

“Yes dear?” he said, eyes fixed on the pages in front of him, but by know finding it difficult to read even a single sentence.

“Are you going to fix the light-bulb?” she asked again, her eyes shining with happiness.

“Lisa!” he finally exclaimed in a friendly tone, while throwing the magazine on the table and sitting up straight. He looked straight into her cheerful grey eyes, contagious with a vast flow of optimistic energy.

“Yes dear?” she laughed in a childlike manner.

“I don’t know why,” he said. “I just love you!”

“…love you to dear!” she said, widening both her smile and her eyes.

*****