Si je te dis que j’ai besoin de toi, ici, en ce moment. Dis seulement oui, je t’implore. Dis seulement, je suis ici à coté de toi, tu n’es pas seule. Je t’implore. Ne me laisse pas seule avec ses yeux.
It is party night. The neighbours’ windows thump hip-hop and I jiggle to Blink 182. Two tipsy boys knock at my door reeking of gin, red-cheeked, giggling. Kiss one, hug the other, it’s party night. I grab my clinkin’ handbag, re-check my hair, and hop out the front door with mah boyz.
At the digs the students are everywhere, on the beanbag, the bed, the grass, the old flea-filled couch stranded in the garden, like an ancient whale. You and me we retract a little from the mass, land up on the furry whale couch, and get judgemental looks from passers-by who denounce “couple time”.
The very idea that you and I could actually be a couple makes me hiccup a little of my Brutal Fruit. We’re going to get out of this place fast and I think we both know it. One of those rare moments when I actually feel my age. If I giggle one more time and crack another joke about my skirt, I’m going to slap myself. But really, I think I’m rather cute.
We stop by one of the pubs for a bit, and before I walk in, I see the motorbike I look out for every day I’m in this city. I try and explain to you, but you are not sober enough, or maybe I’m too swamped and I’m not explaining properly – I don’t know how to explain how afraid I am of what is about to happen. And I can’t avoid it – why should I?
I walk in, and almost immediately lock eyes with him, and you, you stand by me with a silly tipsy smile on your jovial face and your arm so casually around my waist and my chest and breasts so confidently pressed against you that it might seem I’m trying to push myself into your tummy and disappear from this city. He sees and I bet he knows and I bet he’s assuming like he always did and I’m assuming because if he can, then I damn well can too, and you still don’t get what’s going on. And you say, hey, calm down, baby.
I see through his curls, I push my eyeballs, straining with veins tight like metal cables, straight through his deep eyes and further on, through the brick column behind him, I am a million miles further along, he rushes past my eyes like a bullet shot past a speeding car.
I hope my eyes don’t reflect my true emotions. Only you can feel my beating heart, only you hold me close on your lap and in your arms I am yours. I’m not a single separated chicken bone now. You will ask me later if I am with you for revenge, to make him jealous. I will say truthfully, no. I do like you. But in this moment now, as scared as I am, I am also proud. Look, our bodies tell him, you dragged me down to a dark, dark place, and now I am rising, without you. Do not pity me, do not accomodate me. And as I leave you behind, I hope you learn a lesson from my ascent.
I am loud and happy and friends surround you and me as we casually look all non-chalant. He looks at me with that sorry little pout that still melts my heart, and those penetrating eyes, like wells at night that I am too scared to enter but too curious to avoid, I look past but I am drawn back and past but back and not a word passes between him and I.
It is time to leave, to go to my place. I have already left him behind. But tonight, I leave with you.