Monday, July 02, 2007

REQUIEM WITHOUT

She forgot to write the rest of the script.
Maybe she will see his naked back and a cloud of smoke before he leaves.
Maybe she will kiss his forehead and watch the red bruises turn purple.

She shifts uncomfortably on the metallic seat of the tram. The Lycra camisole is good at ignoring friction. She keeps slipping a few millimeters every minute. There are only two things she can do, stare at the grey and yellow buildings whiz by behind the window across her or stare at the greasy metallic floor. He won’t be arriving for another hour. She wasn’t sure if he will come at all? She pulls at her skirt riding up the thighs. She holds the black briefcase with her notebook inside, close to her knees to cover a scar.

A few people dotted the Victory Square. The overcast sky could be blamed for such a poor turn-out on a Saturday. She walked down to her favourite café and took a seat outside. She would wait for the rain. The coffee was thick and tasted like burnt hair. The croissant was delicious but they refused to serve her ketchup with it. She gave up as the waiter was in no mood to decipher the sign-language and her disparate English words. The change in her bag was not enough to pay for the food and she hoped he comes soon.

She had arrived the previous night and was surprised to not find him home. She had called repeatedly and he had not picked up. He never took calls during rehearsals. She had woken up in the morning to find a text message asking her to meet him at the café at noon. The bed-sheet was crumpled and the pillow looked like it had been slept on. She found her breakfast laid out on the kitchen counter. The glass of juice was still cold.

this moment she's been waiting for… the angel opens her eyes… pale blue colored iris

He had made everything perfect, like he alway did. Her stomach felt heavy and strange. Her throat seemed to be clogged and she couldn’t swallow her own spit. She sat down and ate the sandwiches. As the refrain approached, she could feel the tears swell. She couldn’t hear another word. She ran towards the blinking lights and pressed the power button. Her sobbing filled the silent room. She couldn’t hear her fist punching against the floor. Her footsteps were lost on the new carpet.

She took a shower hoping the water running down her body will take the tears away from her. Down the drain pipes, along the underground tunnels of ancient sewers, into the Bega, reaching the Danube and pouring into the Black Sea. The clouds will be carried back by the winds. His hair will catch the wind and he will run for shelter with the first raindrop touching his nose. He will open the tap and fill a glass of water. Pure, transparent, filled with her tears. She slouched down watching the water form tiny whirlpools before disappearing through the holes in the metallic plate leading to the drain pipes. Even though her body was shaking uncontrollably, she could feel her back go numb against the cold tiles.

She looks up, distracted by some kids screaming as they rode by on their bicycles. She recognizes Uri walking towards the café at a little distance. The girl with him is slim and has red extensions hiding in the curly tangles of her black hair.

“When did you come back?,” he kisses her cheek and smiles warmly. There was something distant about him. Why was Uri not happy to see her? Why had Uri's best friend not woken her up last night? Not even in the morning. All that mattered was that she was back. He knew she was coming back. Why had he not told Uri she was coming back?

Uri started talking about the weather, the sold-out shows at Gilmani and Rockster, his mother getting better with each chemo-session, and Andrei breaking his wrist. Her eyes were fixed on his mouth waiting for a mention of his name.

She runs out of patience and finally asks him.

“What has happened to him?’

“Well, I don’t know. I wanted to ask you this.”

She catches a glimpse of him. It is him. He sits next to her and holds her hand. She can see his eyes, so brutally arrogant, believing in the beauty around.

We could be. He could be......yes........ there is so much that I want him to know...and I can tell him........ If only I could steal him and watch his every move, every line of his body........the movement of his fingers and the shuffling of his feet. The way sunshine falls on his face or the snow twirling around in the air and then gently settling on the nape of his neck.....his lips curling into a devilish smile........and his eyes looking into a void called life......

A cold drop falls on her cheek. He was busy talking to Uri in a language she could not understand. She realises it was not the moment she was waiting for.

We will meet on a strange street in a strange land on a strange moonless night. And I will kiss him. Run my finger-tips over his tears. Feel the pale white skin and smell the cigarette smoke as it engulfs the air around him. Once again, we will be.

“I will come to you and I will run around with my tongue sticking out, catching the falling snow flakes. I will watch every single breath of yours and I will talk to you. I will tell u everything.” she said and gets up to leave

He sips his coffee and watches her walk away. The rain is almost invisible, but the needles of water are stinging his eyes. Uri runs after her, screaming at her to come back. He looks away. Her skirt turns black as it slowly gets drenched. He will wait for the winters.