by Siim Kepp
A short story about a troubled man
|I wish I knew how she’s doing. I look her up on the Internet, but that’s such superficial information.
Whatever we voluntarily share about ourselves, is already censored. I’m not interested in that.
I want to see her private successes, failures, even her average boring life. Whatever it might be.
I wish I could be a fly on her wall.
Not for any perverted reasons, I’ve never even liked strip-clubs. Plus, why watch the same movie twice?
I just want to observe her in her private honesty and try to make out if she’s happy or not.
I follow her to the bathroom and see her at her most vulnerable, that’s it, that’s where the truth is hidden.
I watch her put on the make-up in the morning, with tired, barely open eyes, but still doing it perfectly thanks to years of practice.
I fly on a bagel one Saturday morning when her companion from the night before gets ready to smear cream cheese all over it, and see if he notices.
No reason for that, but my entertainment. That’s what this is all about.
I watch them fuck like we used to fuck. I’m not jealous, just curious.
They pack a picnic basket; a bottle of wine for her, six beers for the new guy – exactly what I used to take. A couple of sandwiches, not homemade, from the store-just like in my time.
She has a very specific taste in men, apparently.
They leave, and in less than a blink of an eye, she’s back. Alone. Crying.
Just like she used to when we were together, and I’d get too drunk, said something I didn’t mean. Or even worse, something I did mean.
She runs a steaming hot bath, still sobbing, sits on the edge of it and starts filing her nails. She always used to do that.
How can she not see me? If she only knew I was right there.
She gets into the bath and releases a heavy breath, sounded like someone blowing out a candle. I guess the water was too hot.
She just lays there, eyes closed and all, but her knees and head are covered with water and bubbles.
I fly on to the wall. It’s steamy and wet, but I manage to hold on.
She’s right there, just breathing in and out slowly. Trying to calm herself down.
I remember she used to tell me to do that every time I got angry.
Never worked for me, but I guess I never really wanted it to.
She raises her hand and for a second I think she wants to hold me…
I wake up as sweaty and hot as the bathroom wall.
I look at my body and legs, I’m still here.
I look over to my left, she’s still here.
I wake her up and tell her what I just dreamed about. She laughs, still half asleep and says that she will never be able to fall back asleep now.
She looks at me and tells me not to worry, she’s just gonna go and have a bath.