I was lying in my bed, reading.
I had reached that point where words started to lose meaning, and the words mingled with each other freely.
It’s not that it was that late, it was only a bit past one in the morning.
Should I read just a bit more, or should I go to sleep?
Before I can decide, my cell rings. I don’t even have to look to know who it is.
The modern miracle of assigning a ring tone to a contact, I suppose.
“Hi”, I said, tenderly.
“No, I was still awake…”
“Are you alright?
“You’re crying, aren’t you? What happened?”
“Oh little girl…”
“Oh little girl…”
“Where are you?”
“Ok, just hold on, give me a few minutes. I’ll be there as soon as I can”
“Yes, I’m coming to meet you.”
I got out of bed, looked myself in the mirror (just a bit crumpled, but what the hell), smelled myself (deodorant’s always a plus), got dressed, left home and caught a cab.
When I got there, I looked for you but couldn’t find you.
Bugger bugger bugger, I thought. Has she left?
In a corner, and in tears : there you were.
I came nearer, sat in front of you, and you looked at me through eyes that welled with tears.
For a minute there, it almost looked like you didn’t know me at all, but then you held me, and got just a bit calmer.
A girl came by and asked us what we wanted to drink. A coke, no ice, for me.
“And for the lady?”, she asked.
“The lady will have absolutely nothing”, I answered before you had a chance to say something, “In fact, the only thing she’s going to have is a bottle of sparkling water, if you please.”
“And by the way, what has she had to drink?”, I asked, out of curiosity.
“Sir… it’s not like I keep tabs on what everyone drinks around here, but I guess not much. Maybe just seven or eight shots of vodka.”, she concluded, looking at me as if I were a cockroach. “And a few more beers.”
“Please”, I said, “There is something that I just don’t understand, just call me crazy…”, I continued.
This girl’s attitude was getting on my nerves.
“But if you saw that this person was obviously in no way fit to drink, then why the hell did you keep on serving?”
“But, as I say, just call me crazy.”
She looked at me, out her hands on her hips, inched her head towards mine with an insolent smile, and said, “Hey, people pay for what they ask, and we serve them. They don’t like the way they’re treated? Tough, them’ the breaks. Go somewhere else.”, she said, turning her back on me.
I didn’t even bother waiting for that coke, I just took a hold of you and we left.
You could barely stand, so you leaned on me for support.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”, I asked.
You looked at me, and I imagine you must have seen quite a few ‘me’s’.
Then you answered, “The bastard, man, the fucking bastard. You don’t know… you don’t even… motherfucking bastard. That… that.. that… thing. Tip of my tongue. Begins with an ‘S’. Rhymes with ‘pucker’, ‘s in the tip of my tongue”
“Fucker?”, I provided-
“Yes. Yes! Yes, that’s it, fucker. But not you. No no. Never you. You know that, right? Tell me you do…”
“I know”, I smiled.
“That dog, man… that fucking dog of a motherfucker… I was getting home from work. I was so tired. So tired. And there the guy was fucking some slut in my bed.”
”Motherfucking men. You lot are absolutely worthless. You make me sick.”
“We suck”, I agreed.
“I don’t like us very much, myself.”
You held me fast in your arms, and cried even more.
I felt you had no strength left, so I took you to a nearby bench so we could sit down.
“Relax”, I said, “Now I’m here.”
“You’re here”, you repeated, drunken desire in your eyes.
Your lips drew near to mine.
“I’m here…”, I said again, “… but not for this, ok?”
I left you in the bench, hailed a cab, and as soon as he got near, I got you in.
“I’m gonna take you home, ok? But you’ll have to tell me your address so I can tell the cabbie, ok?”
You mumbled your address, and I repeated it to the taxi driver.
I closed the door to the cab, and you leaned your head in my shoulders, while you drifted off to blissful sleep, mumbling incoherent words about something.
I thought I heard you saying something about some kind of “instruction”, but I didn’t quite get it.
I closed my eyes too, and before I knew it the driver was announcing our imminent arrival.
I paid the fare, and helped out of the car. Slowly, real slowly.
You were knackered, so much so that you couldn’t even tell me where exactly did you live.
I bit my lips, and searched your purse for a clue.
Between various sets of keys (why?), multiple wallets in all shapes and sizes, pills, assorted feminine things, and further creatures that live in that small ecosystem that is a woman’s purse, I managed to find a card with your address.
Groovy, fifth floor with no elevator. And the light goes out like, every ten seconds or so.
We were almost at your door when I notice a trickle of blood in your legs.
Did we bump into something? Could it be that you had cut yourself in the cab’s door? Or in one of the steps?
I laid you down in the sofa in your dining room, and went to your room to look for some pyjamas.
I got back, and undressed you.
Oh, nice choice for underwear, I’ve always had a soft spot for the PowerPuff Girls.
Too bad that they were acquiring a reddish tint.
Oh fuck, what do I do now? A cursory glance left me reeling.
What do I do? I felt so lost that I had absolutely no idea what to do.
Ok, that’s it, take a deep breath.
I know what to do.
So to the pyjamas I added some new underwear, one that said in the front “Kiss me”, and in the back, “Here”.
I filled a kettle with water, and got a sponge and a couple of towels so I could wash you and then get you dried.
I suppose there is an easier way to do all this, but if there is, then I just can’t see it.
And of all the scenarios I had running through my mind, this was the least complicated. There was only one thing missing.
But where would I find it?
I went to the bathroom, a perfectly acceptable place to search, but it was no good.
But if they’re there, I can’t find them.
Think think think think.
The purse! Of course, the purse!
I grabbed the purse and I drew closer to you.
I took the bloody horror that was between your legs, (the smell, God, the smell. How do you handle this?), wiped you with the sponge and a towel, and dried you with the other.
A small river of blood was still flowing, though.
It’s now or never, I thought.
So I got the… whatever you call this thing, and as I was about to put it on you, I was assailed with doubt.
A) Where do I put this?
B) In her panties?
C) Or in, you know, the…place?
D) And what the hell are these things on the side for?
So I decided for a healthy compromise between choices A and B.
I pulled up her panties, beaming with a certain pride of a job well done.
Well, kind of.
It seemed to be slightly askew.
I patted it a bit to see if it got better, after a few seconds, it seemed normal.
Well, according to my definition of normal, of course.
I put on the rest of the pyjamas on you, and stared at you, sleeping, without being aware of this giant leap for Men.
You truly are beautiful, and you deserve to hear it every single day.
I held your white hands, warm still, and thought “What if…”, but that was a road best left alone.
I carried you in my arms to your bed, laid you in it, and covered you with the duvet. It was a cold night.
I kissed you lightly on your forehead, turned out the light, and got out of the room.
I cleaned up all the mess that remained, and then had a drink of water.
I sat down on the sofa, so tired.
Just for five minutes, I thought to myself, then I’ll be on my way.
I also wondered if it would have been easier or not had I used a tampon, but that is something that only quantum physics can explain.
And what the hell were those wing things on the side for, anyway?
I fell asleep.
I woke up with you sitting in front of me, looking at me.
We said nothing for a number of minutes.
Then you said, “Thank you.”
“Wait.”, you said, “Let me talk. Let me say everything I have to say.”
“Thank you. I mean it. For everything you did for me yesterday.”
“For coming to me. For putting up with my drunken shit. For bringing me home. For taking care of me.”
“Even my… intimate issue. You did it all the wrong way around, but you kept it from being worse.”
You smiled even more, and I blushed.
I imagine that I would be envy of many award-winning tomatoes.
“I didn’t… ah, I didn’t…”, I stuttered. “I didn’t touch…”
“You touched what you had to touch, silly. You did what you had to do, and I’m grateful for that.”
You came a bit closer and kissed me on my cheek.
“And now I must also apologise”, you said, and this time it was you who blushed.
“I’m so ashamed of myself… I’m sorry for everything I said… I know I dais stuff that was mean and cruel. But that doesn’t make them any less true.”
“I’m sorry I put you through all this. But in a way, it was good; it was good that it was you, and not somebody else.”
”I guess I might have suggested something last night, and I apologize for that. Had it been someone else, then…”, you paused, wiping a single perfect tear.
“I’m glad it was you.”
If it is at all possible, I blushed even redder, bright bright red.
You held me, and I fell in your arms for what seemed like long hours.
You told me all that had happened, how it hadn’t been the first time, how he always promised that it would be the last time.
You confessed you now feared having to face life all by yourself, and I assured you that you’d never see the end of the road while you travelled with me.
I would always be there for you.
We said many things to each other, and after a few hours, we even managed to laugh.
I looked at you, you were watching the TV, and smiling at something funny.
There was so much that I still wanted to say to you.
But that’s what time’s for, and time, as the song says, is on our side.
"If you begin to fall
Please have some more
You could stay at my place if you want to
I'll sleep on the floor..."