Just a Monumental Summer: Girl on the train (16 page)

One night,I was restless and couldn’t sleep. The bedroom was stuffy – too hot to be comfortable. I got up, opened a window and tried to go back to sleep. It was no use – now it was too noisy. Up again, I closed the window and stood beside it, gazing outside at the clouds. I started thinking about Jony, wondering if he was asleep.

Still restless, I went out into the living room. I was hoping I would “accidentally” run into Jony. Sure enough, he was in the living room watching a video. I sat on the couch beside him and finally decided to tell him about Vera – that she wanted to meet him. He didn’t seem surprised.

“Will you call her?” I asked him.

“Do you want me to?” He looked at me straight in the eyes.

I didn’t expect that. “What? It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s your life.” I trailed off, nervously looking away.

“Then why do you ask?” he asked, visibly annoyed.

“I thought we were friends. I care because we are friends. Vera is my friend too. I care. ” stumbling to a stop, I looked at him.

He looked amused, like he didn’t believe me. I took a deep breath and blurted out the truth. “Ok, I am curious if you’re attracted to her.”

“I’m a guy. We’re all attracted to everything we can stick our thing in.” He said with a straight face.

“Jony, please, will you call her?” I pleaded.

“Yes, I will.” He defied me by giving the answer I didn’t wanted to hear.

Instinctively, I looked down with disappointment. Uncomfortable with my conflicted thoughts, I looked down at my hands, twisting them nervously. I wanted to stand up and leave. He grabbed my hand. Startled, I looked from him to the door – what if Alin woke up? I shivered; I was still uncomfortably warm but now for an entirely different reason. I tried – weakly - to pull back my hand. He was taller than me. I felt small and uncertain. I bit my lower lip, and my breath became heavy. I slowly combed my hair away from my eyes with my other hand, finally meeting his eyes. He dropped my hand. I hated he did that. I swallowed hard.

“Mona, babe, you don’t care because we are friends. You care because you’re attracted to me.”  His tone was angry and tired at the same time. “You like me, and you are torn apart because you like Alin. You think it’s a bad thing. But it’s not. It’s natural. Trying to repress it is not natural.”

He was right. Meanwhile, his hands were stroking my hair. My whole body was on fire. I leaned closer.

Throwing caution to the wind, I started to flirt with him “What I am doing here, Jony?” I asked playfully.

“You know what you’re doing, and you like it,” he declared.

I looked at the door again. The fear of being caught made the moment even more exciting. He saw my scared look, and he smiled again. He leaned closer to me. His lips were almost touching mine. I closed my eyes, inhaling sharply. I knew he was about to kiss me.

I was wrong: he didn’t.

After an all too long and awkward pause, I opened my eyes to him standing up and walking away, heading to the kitchen. I shook my head embarrassed.

He went to the fridge and looked inside. “Damn, no beer left?” He opened a cabinet door and found a bottle of Bailey’s. He poured two drinks, set the bottle on the kitchen table, and walked back to the couch to hand me one.

He clinked his glass with mine and smirked. “You may think you’re weak, but you’re not, Mona.”

The magic moment was gone. I walked to the kitchen table to get some distance between us, trying to dispel my lingering feelings of disappointment and confusion. He joined me at the table.

“Cheers,” he said. “To… friends.” He winked at me and continued. “You know, when I was small, I once saw my mother when she was putting on lipstick in the mirror.I remember the lipstick was bright red. I was surprised by how carefully she was applying it, paying attention to every detail. She opened her mouth, focused on getting the shape of her lips just right. It felt like time stood still. I was watching her and I was simply fascinated. When she finished, she looked in the mirror one last time, and I remember her look.” He paused.

I took another sip and finished my drink. He poured another one.

“Her look was cold. Knowing and premeditated. I looked at her, and for a moment I didn’t recognize her. Not because of the lipstick. Something changed in her, from one second to another. In that moment, when I saw her putting lipstick on her lips, another image flickered into my head. It was the image of a warrior sharpening his sword. I must have seen a movie with a ninja or something. Somehow, in my subconscious, I connected those two images. Today, it makes sense to me. A woman, when she puts makeup on her face, is like a warrior sharpening his sword.”

“Or like a soldier painting his face before a battle?” I tried to make sense of his words.

“Exactly. Imagine a soldier cleaning his weapon. He is on a mission. The gun is his weapon. Lipstick is a woman’s weapon. A woman is an incredibly strong and a dangerous creature. If a woman knows her power, she will destroy a man, like that,” he said, snapping his fingers. “And when a woman is weak, she is weak because she needs to be. For her to reach her balance, or for her to deceive, to imply weakness – either way, she is still in control.”

He finished his glass and poured another drink. He saw my look and started to laugh.

“Jony, I was weak once. Still paying for that. Sometimes, you are weak. Man or woman. Defeated.”

“Victims. Blah.” He made a distorted face.

“So you say I am weak?” I asked defensively.

“You pretend you’re the weak one. ‘Oh, I am in love with Alin, but I like another guy. Oh no, do I have to choose? Please God, tell me what to do.’ Ha.” He was talking with a falsetto voice, pretending he was me. We laughed.

Suddenly, his tone changed. “You have all the power, Mona. You are powerful. You can handle two guys. And you don’t have to play the victim. You only have to take what you want,” he concluded.

“Are you trying to manipulate me? What about decency, what about principles?” I demanded.

“Blah, blah, blah, principles, values. I am not manipulating you. I know you will sleep with me. Only a matter of time. I had you a moment ago, remember?”

I knew he was right. I was embarrassed again. I looked down, and he touched my chin with his finger, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Suppose your girlfriend has sex with another guy — let’s say, Alin — you won’t care?” I asked, puzzled.

“I will care, but I will try to follow my own advice and not expect anything in return from her. The fact I love her is my concern; she should not be made responsible for that. If she wants to be with another guy, she can be. And I will be with her — even if she killed someone, I won’t be hurt. She will be the one dealing with that, not me. Love shouldn’t entitle you to anything. Love is unconditional, they say. Then, what gives me the right to expect something from you? It’s like having a cat. My cat leaves during the night; sometimes she disappears for days. I love my cat. But I’m not hurt if she doesn’t come home. Or if she hangs out with other cats or even other people. I guess that’s why I love her. Because she fucking does what she wants. Sometimes she needs my attention, and I love it. She comes purring at my feet, and I give her my attention. But sometimes, when I try to touch her, she will scratch me without any reason.” He smiled.

“Jony, do you have a girlfriend?” I asked, looking to make a point.

“No, I don’t.”

“Would you be hurt if your friends hang out with some other guys and exclude you?”

“I guess, but again, that will be my problem. If they spend time with others but not me, that means they don’t like me. So why bother anyway? It means they are not worth my concern. Yes, we may be friends, but we didn’t make a friendship pact. We didn’t cut our hands, mingle our blood, and swear loyalty and exclusivity.”

I smiled.

He asked me if I was tired.

“No, I can’t sleep.” I didn’t want to leave. I would have stayed even if I’d had to listen a dissertation regarding chemical analysis of a new study in developing a better quality of toilet paper. I just needed to be closer. “Jony, you said I am strong. I feel weak. Defeated.” I forced a smile.

“It’s normal. But I know you are a strong person. And you know it, and you use it against us.”

“Us?”

“Men. Some day you will conquer the world, baby. Men see in you a fragile girl they need to protect. That’s dangerously deceiving.”

“And you? What do you see in me, Jony?”

“A girl who is going for the kill!” he concluded simply.

I liked that.

“Mona. You may think you are better than me, but you will leave Alin or anyone else you love, in five minutes, for a better deal.” His words hurt me. But only for moment. What if he was right?

“You don’t know me, Jony.” I tried to justify myself.

“Yes, I do. Unfortunately.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know you are poison for me, and I am still attracted to you.” He said smiling with acceptance.

“Funny, I feel the same way about you.” I said. “Why are we attracted by bad people, Jony?”

“It’s not a secret anymore babe, that people with a deviant personality and darker outlooks on life, get what they want. Have you ever been alone for a long period of time? I am sure, no. And not because you are attractive, but simply because you are pathologically reckless. You will attract much more partners than girls with normal personalities.”

“Interesting. Being neurotic is not bad after all.” I laughed.

“Yes. You are a risk-taker, and selfish. You break the rules and you are rebellious. The opposite of a victim. You emanate bravery and independence. It makes you live an exciting life. This attracts and fascinates people around you. It’s so simple.”

“Are you captivated by me, Jony?”

“Are you always asking questions you already know the answer?” he asked smiling.

Feeling a little more at ease, and more than a little tipsy. I knew it was time to go back to bed – to Alin.

“I need to get some sleep. Don’t tell Alin.”

“Yes, I know. I won’t tell him about our talk at all. You keep asking me things, and you know he is my friend.”

“Did you guys make a friendship pact?” I said, smirking – I liked turning his words back on him.

“Fair enough.” He laughed. “But you and I don’t have one.”

“Shall we make a friendship pact, Jony?”

“What do you have in mind?” he asked me with a naughty smile.

“I don’t know. Let’s swear we will always tell us the truth and not hide anything from each other. I want the truth. And you will have mine. Deal?”

“Deal!” We both spit on our thumbs and touched them. We laughed.

“Mona, I would like to share our first truth.”

“Ok.” I was amused.

“You know you already cheated on him.”

I inhaled sharply. He was right. I wished he would kiss me. I was hoping the magic of that earlier moment would come back again. Yet, his kiss came unexpectedly. Brutal and breathtaking, and then silent and lingering, tongues intertwining; tasting of Bailey’s. I was trembling. I took my time, and then I pushed him back and looked apprehensively at the door.

“Don’t make it so hard on yourself!” He laughed while leaving the room.

I stood up, a little fuzzy-headed from alcohol. I looked around. I saw our glasses, a reminder of two people getting closer to each other. I took them and put them in the sink. I went back to my room. Alin was sleeping. I went to our bathroom and looked into the mirror. I brushed my teeth again and silently slipped into bed.

They say sinners never sleep well. I did – maybe it was the alcohol. Noises from the kitchen woke me up. I was, however, reluctant to run into anyone – especially Jony. I rolled over; finding Alin awake but I asked him if we could stay in bed. “Let’s not go in there. I am not in the mood. I want to stay in bed with you, the whole day.”

As he pulled me in for a cuddle, Alin surprised me. “You know we finished the song? Our song.”

That made me happy; I hugged him and kissed his cheek.

I looked at his tattoo, finally ready to satisfy my curiosity.

“Who was she? I mean, your tattoo. You can’t let it go-” I said hesitantly.

“It was a long time ago. I loved her; it was hard to let it go.” Alin sighed.

“So, who was she?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. It was the past,” he replied, annoyed.

“It’s never the past if it’s still there, Alin. Is she still here?”

“No, she’s not. You are now my girlfriend. I am with you.”

“Sometimes being with someone doesn’t means you are
with
that person. Anyway…Whatever!” I murmured bitterly, upset that he didn’t trust me enough to confide in me. Then I was disgusted with myself – who am I to push him for secrets, when I have so many of my own? I scowled at him.

He touched my hair, looked me deep in the eyes, sighed, and muttered to himself, “And you don’t know if she is about to kiss you or kill you.”

“I am gonna do both, I guess.” I kissed his tattooed arm.

We stayed in bed and talked.

“What’s up with Teo? What is his story? He seems much older.” I was trying to find a way to ask about Jony without raising suspicions.

“He founded the band. He gathered us all together. He is weird but ok. Talented. He’s a mess. Lazy. Spends money he doesn’t have. You know, we mostly get our checks at the beginning of the month. One week before the paycheck, he’s out of money.”

I interrupted him: “Maybe he thinks the month has only three weeks, instead of four.”

He answered as if I was serious, not because he appreciated my joke: “Exactly! A procrastinator with the paperwork, but when it comes to having fun, he is the first. Always late. Messy. We need to babysit him. Annoying.

I continued. “Maybe he has Peter Pan syndrome.”

“A disease?”

“It’s not considered a disease. I think it’s more like a psychological concept, referring to a male who is socially immature.” I explained.

“Have you ever thought of studying psychology?” Alin asked.

“No way!”

“Why? I thought you were interested.” Alin asked, puzzled.

“Because I would suck as a therapist. The whole time, I would be thinking saying to my patients, ‘Shut the fuck up and have a drink. I have enough dealing with my own shit.’”

He laughed, amused by my bluntness.

“I am interested for me. I try to heal my soul anyway I can.”

“Mona. Why do you need to heal your soul? What is in there?”

“Alin, don’t take me seriously. You may get to feel my body. It’s not enough to see my twisted soul. In order to get me, you have to feel it, you have to take the journey with me. I could drag you deep down, into my abyss, and you might still not be able to feel what it’s like to be me.”

“But I do want to know -”

I interrupted him. “But confessing to you means intimacy. Like being naked. Showing your real thoughts, frustrations, fears, desires, your darkness to someone else, ultimately showing my demons, it takes courage. Ican do that, but these things you have heard will always burn in your brain. They cannot be undone. That means there will be no way out for me. You will own me forever.”

“Forever? Big words, don’t you think?” Alin asked in disbelief.

“Love should be forever. Love should be epic. Passionate and extraordinary. Life is a routine, life is sad, life is tough. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn’t be one of them. If you don’t have a monumental love, you are wasting your time. If you don’t want to die for it, then get out.”

“I like it… extraordinary love.”

“It is. But you think it nonsense.”

He kissed me and whispered, “Monumental love. I like it. Good title for a song. If I could be one of your monsters, I would fall in love with you,” Alin declared.

I corrected him: “Demons.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not. We are all monsters. Sooner or later. More or less. Maybe except Dana,” I explained.

He agreed, smiling. Dana was a light for all of us. But then I continued:

“Monsters are all around us. You can see them. Demons are inside us. We are the monsters, but we are hosting demons. Monsters are to be seen, demons are to be felt.”

Alin seemed annoyed and worried. He sat up straighter in the bed and turned to me, intent on what I was saying – trying to understand. I went on:

“A demon is the ultimate monstrosity and blackness. A demon is something that grows inside you and then suddenly you are aware of it. You know crazy people don’t think they are crazy? They insist the sane ones are crazy.”

Alin ran his fingers through his hair, trying to catch up to my line of reasoning. “Are they monsters? Or demons?”

“Monsters. Monsters are cunning and manipulative. They will turn you into one of them. You will end up doing bad things, thinking you are somebody else, thinking it’s the right thing to do. Although I prefer not to call crazy people monsters. I am fascinated by them. Maybe they are right. Maybe we are the crazy ones.”

“Why I am not surprised you think that? What about demons?”

I shifted in the bed, crossing my legs and leaning toward him - I so wanted someone to understand me. I explained earnestly:

“You can have a good relationship with your demons. They will torture your soul, but they will give you a break from time to time. And they won’t make you lose your mind. You are no use to them if you’re crazy. They will keep you right at the doorstep between sanity and insanity. Sometimes, they allow you to feel pleasure, contentment, even short moments of happiness. But they are always present as a reminder you belong to them, no matter what you do. A demon won’t kill you, same as they won’t make you crazy. They live through you. Like a virus. They can’t survive without a host. Conversely, a monster will get you killed, will manipulate you, will whisper in your ear things no sane mind can comprehend. Think of famous serial killers. They did horrible things to other people, thinking they were gods or thinking God told them to do things. A demon will never make you think you are God. It won’t allow you to lose touch with reality.” I stopped, seeing the look on his face.

“Mona, I didn’t interrupt you.” His tone was serious. He stood up and paced around the room, ending at the window. He turned and looked at me, folding his arms.

“So you let me talk to see where my phantasmagoric absurdity ends. Thank you, Alin.” I was worried I had gone too far – exposed too much. Most people don’t think this way, I knew that. Sure enough, Alin scrubbed his face with his hands. When he took his hands away from his face, he appeared concerned.

“How did you get this stuff into your head? I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you are talking nonsense. You need to stop!” I didn’t know if his look was sad or if he simply felt pity for me.

“These are my thoughts, theories. I am trying to understand myself.”

“You are giving credence to lots of thoughts; too many,” he said seemingly worried about my sanity.

“Would ignoring something that absorbs your mind makes you crazy or normal, Alin?”

“How long has it been since you noticed these …demons are there?” Alin continued questioning me. I think he was ready to get a straightjacket and have me locked up.

“Good question. I don’t know.”

He leaned back against the headboard, pulling me over into the shelter of his arms. I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling loved.

“You told me about the beach. What about the other happy moments?” Alin asked as he stroked my hair.

“Of pure happiness? There were no other ones.”

“What about when you felt in love, the day when Gabriel came to see you?”

“I felt I was on fire. I was happy. But it’s hard to explain. Two different moments in time. The sea overwhelmed my senses. Smelling, hearing, touching, seeing, tasting. The brief moments with Gabriel felt physical. My body was shaking, and I felt on fire. I guess I can call it happiness as well. Let’s say happiness, but not pure.” I smiled. There were many things in my head that I was not willing to share with anyone. This much intimacy with Alin felt like a big step.

He waited for a while. Then he shifted to look intently into my eyes. He was serious, and said with such concern, “Mona, your soul is pure and poetic. And you talk about demons with a passion that scares me. How is it possible? One moment you are so innocent, chasing one pure memory, and at the same time you tell yourself demons are occupying your mind. I would love to see inside your mind.”

I kissed him. “You don’t want that, baby.”

Trying to fake a rasping tone, he asked, “Should I be scared?”

I shook my head. “I am harmless. My demons are mine. It’s not contagious.”

“Are you sure?”

“It takes courage to be with someone like me.” I admitted seriously.

“So it is contagious,” he chuckled.

“It may be.”

He was thoughtful. I knew I might have said too much, but I wasn’t sorry. I wanted him to know. Either he would say I was crazy and would run away, or he would start to understand my pain and try to help me. Both were ok with me.

But he didn’t give up. He looked at me, troubled, and asked, sighing, “You know what puzzles me? You are interested in psychology and take it seriously, and on the other hand, you are talking about demons and new age crap, or whatever it’s called. What is in your mind?”

“Demons. I told you!” I laughed.

He looked at me anxiously. “Mona, you can’t throw something like that on me and pretend it’s funny. Why are you like this? What happened to you?”

“Life happened, Alin.”