She was one of those very hot women who no one is hitting on because all men (but no women) tend to think that she was the kind of woman who is out of anyone's league. And sometimes she was so alone, that you wouldn't believe it.
The girl next to her was less hot, but still a very attractive young woman. I started to talk to her, but I dropped it really soon, as soon as I found out she was one of those women who are well-aware of their good looks and they use it all the time.
I get it, you're hot, you're cute, you're beautiful, but I learned years ago how to identify situations in which I can actually have a shot and those in which I don't. And this time I didn't have a shot. Besides, other thing I have learned before is not to think with my dick. And as much as I liked her, I'm not an imbecile, and quite frankly, I'm kind of offended, because she thinks very little of me.
So I went back to the first girl. I talked to her, asking questions and not answering any -because, you know, keep them interested- and I was shocked how fast she gave me green light to take her to her flat. And you may not believe it, but I'm not looking for sex. At least, not tonight, per se. Anyway, I took her invitation, and we went out of the bar. And surprise surprise, she lived very near, and although you have to watch your back with situations like this, because of the robbery, and all that stuff that this city has, I felt really comfortable with her. I mean, we were having such a nice conversation that I didn't think that she was trying to hurt me or something. Also, I wouldn't have been important if she did. I went out of house just looking to get in some trouble; maybe a fight, or even more, get stab or something. I was so disappointed with my life that at that point it wouldn't be that important.
Anyway, I walked her to her house -her name was Gina- and I seriously didn't even implied that I wanted sex or get upstairs. Still, once we were there, (like ten blocks away from the bar) she asked me 'would you like a cup of coffee?', and for the first time in so long, I feel comfortable agreeing to that. Because the other times it was such hurry, such an overwhelmed feeling of what would happen next...exhausting.
But this was not the case. My answer was 'sure', and I went in. She got this beautiful flat, very well decorated, with paintings and no photos. That was odd. So I started to look really carefully in order to catch some of the usual stuff somewhere -photos, a library, music, movies, something- and besides the painting, the chairs and the couch, I didn't see any of that. Maybe they were in other room. But still, that made me thought that she wanted to keep her privacy.
At this point we had not spoken about the sentimental situation yet. Oddly I didn't care what she was up to in that field, and I guess she didn't care of mine as well.
-Have a sit, please. I'll make the coffee.
-Oh, please, let me help you. I don't feel comfortable sitting alone in your living room.
-Is that so? ok, then.
So I join her to the kitchen and we started talking about art, about novels -apparently she was quite a fan of movies- and about pretty much whatever we had in mind. She was a fashion designer, a very fancy line of clothes (that explain the minimalism on the decoration...well, at least that works for me) and she wanted to start her own business, with new brand, new clothes...the whole thing.
And I'm asking her what would it be the cost for something like that, and asking about the ideas of design, what would you call fashion and what old-fashion (I'm always interested in pretty much anything) and she was more than happy to answer all my questions. She was so happy that she never really asked me anything other than my name and the usual. And it was best of it.
Then we sit in the couch, and I couldn't help but mention the decoration.
-Well, for someone who loves design, you have a very minimalism taste.
-Yeah, well, The flat is not that big. Besides, I don't like to hang paintings all over the place.
-Yes, but you have no photographs of your family or ...you don't have anything. No portraits, no music or books at first sight...anything that can say something about you.
-Would you rather read or listen about me of someone else but me?
-No, no...of course not. It's just...it's weird. Can we put on some music?
-Sure, something you have in mind?
-Not really...just radio, anything. I don't like hearing the voices all alone.
-Ok then. I happen to have sound all over the house, but the controls aren't here. Just give me a sec.
And then she turns on the radio, and it's playing this beautiful song, Me and Mrs. Jones. And I smile at the memories. So she caught me smiling.
-Why are you smiling for?
-Nothing...I like that song.
-Do you?
-Yes. And it makes me wonder –and please stop me if I'm going too far-, are you married?
-Well, yes...no...I mean, I'm getting a divorce.
-Oh, sorry to hear that.
-Don't be. It's for the best.
-If you say so...
-What about you...married? children?
-No and no children, thankfully.
-thankfully?
-Yes...it would have been harder if I did have kids.
-So you're not married, but you lived with someone?
-Sort of, yes.
-And how long?
-6 months ago we broke up
-And what happened?
-It's complicated.
-Oh, sorry...am I pushing too far?
-No, it's not that. It's just...complicated. But long story short, we cheated on each other. So pretty much we fucked up.
-Oh...I see.
-Yeah, but what are you gonna do, right?
-And that's why you liked the song?
-Well, yes. Mia and I...we got along really well, but when it came of standing by each other, something failed every time. You know, it's not the same to love someone than support someone, to be there for someone...and she really cared for me, and I for her, but, I don't know...I guess we loved so badly that we left the rest away. So, yes, I loved her, and she loved me; and yes, we cheated on each other because we didn't want to accept that we weren't brave enough to stand up for the other.
-But it sounds like you still love her.
-Well, not really. I mean, all I know is that I really care for her well-being. The rest I don't know.
-That has to be tough.
-It was. But now is over. Now you tell me your story
-Me? What story?
-Why you and...your husband are ending the marriage
-Well...I have thought about it and...It’s complicated.
-Ok, if it is too much, then I'll drop it.
-No, no, it's ok. It's just that...he...he... he used to hit me.
-...ah (what!?!) Ehm....I don't know what to say.
-Yes...it's embarrassing.
-Yeeess...
-But I don't wanna talk about it. It's over and it's time to move on.
-Sure, and you will ...get over it. I'm sorry, but I'm shocked. How come that even happened?
-Well...at first it was his game. And I ...well, I won't deny it...I liked it. I liked when we played and he punished me. But then...I don't know...something changed, and it started to feel real...too real. And I cannot tell exactly when, but it was no longer a game. So at first I thought...maybe I deserved some of this, you know...because, I made him mad, or I did something wrong...But deep down, I knew that there was something not working in that logic.
(Oh my god! She's gonna cry. I don't wanna make her cry...Jeeez! I stare at her carefully, trying to anticipate the tears...but they won't come out. Not yet. She's not ready.)
-So anyway, I let him doing it for some time, until I have to start wearing sun glasses and to cover myself with clothes, because...the bruises...and, well, the pain...I had headaches sometimes, and other days I felt the urge to just run away, you know...
-Yes...
-So I tried to leave him once, and he came after me. Not aggressive but sweet...we talked and I expressed my emotions. I told him I didn't like the situation, and he was very kind, such a good listener...and he made the it won't happen again promise. But sure it did, soon enough he felt he was in a safe path.
-...gg...go on...(?)
-Well, when he...hit me, he used to point out what have I done wrong. You know, like 'you didn't call me back' or 'you didn't pick up the phone', or things like that. But there was this one time...he came home and I was drawing something on my desk. And he came in. And then...out of the nowhere...
here it comes...here it comes...oh god!
That piece of shit, just grabbed me by my wrist, push me into the bedroom and he pushed me really...really hard to the bed. And when I tried to get up he just hit me on my stomach...so I stood there, in pain, and he didn't say anything...and...and...then...he...he....ripped off my clothes and....and...he...
***
The next thing I'm doing is holding her really hard against me. She's crying, and crying, and it seems she won't stop 'till morning. But I don't care. I know I wasn't looking for sex but this is definitely not the way I imagine my ending for the night. So when I look at her, I can tell she's really hurt...not physically, but she's really pissed...I guess she's pissed at herself, for allowing that stupid, fucker asshole to hit her.
Anyway, after ten minutes or so, she's lying in my shoulder, relief (I think) and almost asleep.
-Sorry for telling you all of that. I know it wasn't any of your business.
-It's ok. Do you wanna go to bed?
(She stares at me and for a moment I can tell she thought I meant both of us. So I clarify)
-Do you wanna go to sleep?
-Not really...can you stay any longer?
-Sure...(Can I? Do I want to?) Do you want some tea?
-That'd be good.
(I left there in the couch, and make my route to the kitchen to prepare a tea. With cinnamon or something. Then I head back to the main room, and there she is, all red-chicks because of the crying and so...lonely.)
-There you go- I said, while I hand the tea
-Thank you. How long can you stay?
-I don't know. How long are you gonna be sad?
-It may take a while...
-So I'll stay a while.
-Really? Don't you have work to do?
-Well, not really. I guess we both are lucky
-Why?
Ok, lucky was not a good choice after her story
-Because you want me to stay, I want it too, and turns out I can. So is a win-win.
-I see.
Her eyes are darker
-Do you wanna sleep here? Should I bring you a sheet or something?
-Yes...
I go to her bedroom, and there it is. Portraits. She's hugging a man, I guess that's him. Asshole! and She has some pictures of parties, and some books on her table. And now I guess, can't tell why, that she's selling the flat. I dismiss the thought and I grab some sheets for her. So I put her to sleep, and she is in awe, but I don't know why.
-You ok? can I get you anything else?
-No...I'm fine. Thank you.
-Ok. I smile at her, but I have to ask. Why do you trust me?
-Sorry?
-You...just got through an awful and traumatic situation...and you're just...so confident with a complete stranger. And don't say I'm not because that's what I am. I just met you tonight. You barely know me...
-and already need you.
-...Sure about that?
-Yes...I know you won't hurt me.
-yes...I won't. So please, sleep.
We stare at each other for a couple of minutes, realizing that this is an impossible way to get to sleep. So I sit next to her, and she is resting her head on my legs. I'm touching her face -she just looks beautiful- and then she starts to fall asleep.
Once she's completely sleep, she's soring. And it's cute. So I move her head gently -she looks relief- and I head up to the window. It's such a great view from this flat in the morning. And I don't hesitate. I start writing in a piece of paper a note:
"Thank you for a wonderful night, despite the whole situation. I know it's not what you'd call 'amazing' but somehow you have lightened a heavy weight that I was carry on my back. See, with your company I felt comfortable, like I wasn't in quite some time. Also, I went out from home looking to get into some trouble, and instead of that, I had the chance to spend the night with a wonderful woman.
So thanks for that, thanks for sharing your story, thank you for taking a complete stranger up here, to see such a beautiful sight -not just the one you get by standing on the window but also that one you get by looking at you sleepy in the couch. Btw, you snore.
So that is a goodbye. And I know that doesn't make any sense, because I thought all night long "I don't wanna have sex", and there you go, I don't want it. Not because of you, but because I'm not comfortable right now. I'm aiming for something deeper, and you, sleeping, were the deep thing I needed. So make yourself a wonderful and beatiful life, please.
Att. S.J."
As soon as I finished, I left the note hanging in one of the paintings she had, and left. I know I should have left my phone or something, but I have no intention on getting in touch with her. At least not in purpose. When we're ready, sweetheart...when we're ready...
