He was sitting in his towel at the edge of the bed, looking at the flame of the cigarette in his hand. It was still for the very first time. He usually needed to make quite of efforts to overpower the feeling of tension – somehow numbing but very pleasant – that took him over when he was about to see her or when he was with her. He was supposed to have gained that maturity which makes a man feel stable and confident at that adulthood. And he really possessed it but not when he was about to meet her: he was walking up and down, sitting, settling at a place or another, drumming with fingers, leaning back, stretching legs, again putting elbows on knees, standing up. But then he was calm.
He noticed that the cigarette ash had grown up, he tapped it off and gazed at the bluish arabesque interweaving in the calm air. He knew she was able to feel his tension. She was smart, had an extreme flair and he was afraid that made him look ridiculous to her. He made efforts to control himself but he could not mislead her. And who needed that? He did not want to put masques on, he did not want to cheat on her, he did not want to pretend to be great. He did not want to do anything that could throw a shadow of insincerity between them even that could make him look immature to her. He put his cigarette out and listened to the music from the speakers. He wanted to change the CD but gave up and put the remote control back on the nightstand trying not to push the tea-lights. He liked the fire, the light, the play of the shadows on the wall and had always enough of them. His eyes passed through the rest of the flames climbing in a row by the wall.
They had met accidentally and started seeing each other somehow half-jokingly – just friends. They met to have a cappuccino, juice or bourbon and he had never had any intention for a more serious relationship. And here, he could not understand when his thoughts started going back to her and at which moment he had started to wake up with a memory of her perfume, of the quiet jingle in her voice. He had tried to convince himself that was something fleeting, that it was a joke of his imagination but her hazel eyes did not leave him alone. They both kept meeting from time to time and they were joyful, they felt comfortably and one day their lips touched in a refined, enchanting kiss.
Both of them reacted calmly. They liked it, the magic had happened and after that day, they started dating more and more often. They chatted about themselves, their lives, the things they liked. They had magical, turquoise nights, refined and glowing, fire-breathing and light. He felt more and more attracted and when he stayed alone tried to make it clear if what he felt was not only a superficial attraction. He did not want to let her or himself down. He had always wanted the person by him – and he himself – to know that when he spoke about the feelings, those feelings were sincere. He had overcome the time when the excellent behavior, the deliberated actions and all the possible games thrilled him for a long time. He had learned that they always led to misunderstandings and there were always sufferings and he did not want to hurt anybody.
The shower stopped, a thin triangle of light flashed on the floor, lit the wall in the hall and her dark silhouette had stood out a while before she turned the bathroom lights off. She was in a big towel and slid by him on the bed. She kissed him, put the pillow up, leaned on it and reached for a cigarette. The man rolled over, leaned on his elbow, slowly ran his hand over her feet, up on her leg, bent and touched her with lips above her knee to the end of the towel making her close her eyes and smile. He put the ashtray on the bed, between them, took her cigarette, lit it and passed it to her.
“I can only imagine how many women were made feel really wanted by you.”
“You know they aren’t many. I have never chased the women at any price but only the ones who deserved it to be appreciated and they are not as many as you think.”
“It is true but you cannot live like that... you cannot stay alone.”
“It’s better to be alone than to jump from a bed to a bed, and to wonder what I do there. I don’t need it to prove myself in this way.”
“But I am not enough to you, it is impossible to be enough...”
“It is. I have you. What more could I want? I love you.”
She raised her eyebrows, there was a surprise in her eyes, but a kind of a sad smile slid on her lips.
“I cannot be with you as often as you want it. I still cannot be with you... I had told you...”
“I know it” – the man said.
He sat up by her. He could feel the touch of her still wet shoulder by his. He caressed her palm and took it between his.
“It happened so. I liked you at the very first beginning but I have never expected that I would fall in love with you. I haven’t wanted it, I haven’t aimed it but it happened.”
She bent her head:
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. I’m not sorry.”
“But it is not good to you” – she looked at him. – “I like you, but just my last parting was too hard and too recently...”
“Why isn’t it good to me? I had been living without having someone to love by my side for many years. Some women appeared, I used to love one of them many years before that but everything fell apart and I could feel nothing to the rest of them. I was alone, I had been used to this, I had locked myself into my world which was cozy but somehow artificial. I had forgotten those sensations when you brought them back to me. It is good and I am grateful to you.”
“I know it, you have told me about this. Though, I don’t think it is not good... you will suffer and I don’t want it. I still cannot rush into... it is hard to explain it... sex is great, it is nice to be with you but I did not expect it to happen like this either, I haven’t looked for it, but... it happened so.”
“There’s no need to explain it, to look for reasons, to analyze. The things are such as they are and they are great.”
“But I’m not in love with you... Doesn’t it bother you?”
The man turned around, sat against her, and carefully slid his fingers into her hair, brushed the bang behind her ear and slowly ran his fingers down her neck. He moved back and looked at her eyes.
“Keeping hope alive. I cannot make you love me. I know you’ve been hurt, you have suffered, that you still suffer... it doesn’t make sense to convince you that it won’t happen, to tell you I won’t hurt you, to tell you I’ll do everything in order to make you feel better but you can trust me... those are clichés. Just words, uttered by so many men to so many women and those words turned out to be so empty that they have lost their meanings. Nothing has left from these meanings. It is stupid to repeat them. I’d rather prove them to you but we need time for this and it’s only up to you if you’ll give me that time.”
“I don’t know...” – she looked through the window, through the narrow slit of curtains and turned to him again. – “Some of my last feelings still exist; though they’re old, though they’re hidden somewhere deep into myself, they’re still alive, I haven’t overcome them...”
“It is so, I can see. You’ve suffered, you’ve been badly hurt” – he took her hand. – “You behave bravely and nobody could say it was so, you have friends but whatever you do, wherever you go, at nights, you’re home alone. You’re endlessly lonely deep into yourself. I also come here, play some loud music in order not to hear the silence of my own steps, of my own breath. I’m used to this but life is short though it could be lived like that.”
“Don’t, I’ve promised nothing... I haven’t lied to you” – she caressed him. – “Please, don’t push me.”
“But you’re not a woman who will stand to be pushed. I don’t want you to feel like this but I cannot stay completely passive as if you are indifferent to me, as if there’s nothing.”
“I’ve experienced that and I understand you but I can do nothing... I need time to get rid of this.”
He pulled her to himself, embraced her and leaned on his back. He could feel her body by his, her head on his chest, the split hair on his shoulder.
“Time is mine. I will wait for you.”
~~~~~~~~~
Translated by: Vessislava Savova
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