A Man, a Girl, a Deserted Island - an Epic Love Hate Saga

Episode 7: Conversations in the Dark

"I seem quiet?" she squeals amused.

"Very. A very innocent and quiet fifty-year-old girl."

I feel her starting to boil like a cauldron. The bed starts to shake. It's about to explode.

"Well, guess what, buddy? I have a bottle full to the brim. It's completely intact, sealed, and filled with..."

"Come on, forget it."

"I'm serious! It's a traditional liquor from Austria. I bought it right in Vienna. It's called Marillenschnaps, and it seems to be a kind of apricot brandy."

"Stick it somewhere!"

"What did you say?" she shouts, half rising.

"Sorry, I have Tourette's syndrome. It slipped out."

"I dare you to say it again!" she threatens, choked. "Go ahead, you brute!"

"You're quite sensitive! Forget that, in this city, I'm your best friend. The only one."

"Really? And what's my name if you're my friend?"

"Your name is... I forgot."

"See how stupid I've become? I'm in a foreign city, in a foreign hotel, in a strange bed with a strange man who doesn't even know my name."

"Well... I won't argue with that."

"Am I stupid? Of course I am! Why? Why?"

"Speak a little softer. They're going to kick us out of the hotel. Why... what?"

"Why don't you know my name. Because," she says emphatically, "you're such a pig that you didn't even have the decency to ask."

"You're right! Actually, what bothers you the most is that I told you you're fifty years old."

"I don't care about those fifty years. Although, honestly, I'm not fifty years old. But what does it matter? Age is just a number. Numbers only matter if you choose to make them matter. But I'm hurt that you didn't even have the decency to ask who I'm sharing a bed with. That's what matters to me."

"Fine. Turn around a bit, I want to ask you something."

"I don't want to see your face anymore. Has anyone ever told you that you have a face that begs for punches?"

"You should be healthy! If I had a dollar for every time I've been told that, I'd be doing fine."

"And you're also unpleasant."

"You contradict yourself. Earlier you said I had an honest face and that I wasn't a suitcase thief. Anyway. Is all this fuss just because I didn't ask you your name? Let me ask you now."

"Ask!"

"What's your name, Ana?"

"Excuse me?" She jumps out of bed like a cat and looks at me sternly:

"How do you know my name is Ana?"

"I guessed."

"No, you didn't! You're lying! You have to tell me right now how you know my name is Ana, or else..."

"Alright, alright. And then everything will be quiet, and you'll let me sleep?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

"Will you let me catch some sleep? Yes or no?"

"Fine, I'll let you. I promise!"

"Your name is written on the tag of that big suitcase. Thanks for your attention, Ana! Good night, Ana! Sleep well, Ana!" I don't get to sleep.