One Fucked Up World

Chapter Twelve

Twelve

     "I wanted one room," I repeated, my voice was loud in the small reception room. I saw my beast like face from the mirror of the closed lift. "Just one room."

     "I know," Don said indifferently. He pressed the button for the lift, "you can keep whining and yelling or to understand that we need to share a room. You can go back to your parents if you want. I doubt you want that."

     I could go to Tommy's, or stay in the street. Yet, it felt like something was breaking already and if I was to haunt after the places Tommy had been, what was left in my head would die straight away.

     Renting one room in the motel was more expensive that I had expected. I had to share a room with Don. I would be fine, I had tried to comfort myself though it didn't work. Something was jumping in my inside. I wished Don would keep me talking.

     I went into the lift, took Don's key. Occasionally something in the back of my mind just slipped in, it hurt. I remembered coming here for the first time. Tommy and I were drunk. It was quite a lovely time, and we smoked three packs of cigarette. How did we do that? Tommy had smelled very good. My head became heavy when the lift went up. When couldn't it go down, and down, and down?

     "So do you want to talk about it?" I heard Don ask in the lift.

     "Talk about what? That I am sorry you did not have your dinner because of me?" I snapped, "I'm not sorry. You can go out all night, I don't mind."

     "I do mind since I have to keep an eye on you."

     I wanted to thank Don, but I snorted.

     "I can take care of myself," I meant to say this loudly like some great feminist in the history, I sounded like a bee trying to get attention though.

     "I think you have emotional crisis and trust issue," Don said.

     "Everyone has that, they just hide it," I said. "Just pretend to like what everyone does so they won't be categorised. They just all live in a glass jar and they don't know it. Stupid, acting like they trust everyone."

     "You don't have to do it on your own, yeah? It's - I know you're different, but you can trust people, like Harry," Don said.

     I glanced at him and found him looking at me in our boxed, dissociated world in the lift. How easy it was to fall in love with Don. Just one deep look in the eyes for once, and everything falls and falls as though there is no gravity and Earth and Heaven. I was terribly sorry for myself. Falling in love should happen in front of sunset or in the rain with an affectionate kiss, but in way, this was the most romantic moment that life could ever offer to me. And pathetically, I could only walk out of the lift.

     "How did Tommy die? I want to know that" I heard him asking.

     Stop. Stop moving Tommy, I wished I could bellow at Don.

     I could just tell him. I didn't have to make things so fucking difficult, but now it wasn't how I made things complicated -- everything went strange in the motel. I could see Tommy in the dark hallway for one second, and he disappeared! Where was he? I did not pursuit disappointment. There would just be disappointment.

     Do not feel, I told myself. I didn't need to go through those heart skipping or blushing or waiting or wanting to touch someone moments .

     "He took too much drug," I said quietly, and I hoped people in their room wouldn't hear me. I hoped they wouldn't judge Tommy.

     Don slipped his fingers into my hand. How confident he looked! How sure he was about the future and how okay everything would go for him even when Tommy died. Was I the only soul affected in this block of building? Why I was the only one?