What would they talk about? She wanted to look like a pretty woman, not like a smart one.
In some sense she was as common as her name. Laura. Neither so beautiful, nor so ugly. Black hair and eyes. A harmonical body into delicate manners. She liked to be in, putting urban’s clothes on herself., usually dressed in jeans. She could be the coolest lady or the most arrogant one. It depended. People who were in front of her could change her smile, the tone of her voice, the look of her eyes. Then she suffered too many changes in different circumstances.
The typical woman who goes by carelessly among a crowd. But if someone stares at her, he surely becomes surprised. At the end, everybody who knew her was pretty interested in her. She didn’t like to speak a lot. She enjoyed listening to other people’s speech. Since she was a little girl she liked to have her own world, full of books and movies. She had liked to stand herself for some character but she would never have found any special one. Instead of it she had practiced the knowledge about herself. Her possibilities. Even her own limits.
She had never thought who she wanted to be. Simply, she had been what she could. She was a bit shy. She needed to take her time to feel trust. Afterwards she could open herself, even looked like a funny woman. Hence if she felt threatened, she could become a wild beast. She knew it perfectly. She hoped not to feel such kind of feelings.
Two unknown people. An easy conversation about movies or books. But when she told him about Adriano’s memories, one of her favourite books, he would see her like a freak or like a fool. And, of course he would forget to ask her phone number.
Had he ever heard the title? Even more, had he thought anytime about death? Would she be able to talk with him about this kind of things? She wasn’t sure about it. Maybe she would have to keep in silence, like an innocent lady, watching his speech out, putting her thoughts away. Was she really ready? Whatever!, she thought. She turned the lights off, locked the door and got out to the street. Maybe he wouldn’t come to the date and her life would go on her lonely way.
She didn’t want to have another bad experience. She remembered the last one. One year ago she had known a man. She had felt they had common things. They could spend time together talking about different points. They liked the same movies and the same literature. He was a nice chance. Of what? She couldn’t know it. .Everything was going in the right way. They began to spend more time together. She had never said anything about her love’s difficulties, but surely, he could imagine her kind of troubles. So she had decided not to tell him who she was in reality. Even though they were meeting frequently, no words about engagement had been said. . She could breath in calmly. Yet. A cold rainy night they had gone to a party.
What do you want to drink? I don’t know…maybe a beer. Well, both of us are going to drink a beer. Do you want a beer? Why are you going to drink it if you never liked it? Today i want the same than you. Both the same…. Yes, both the same
That night he kept in silence. Something in the air was announcing storm. Suddenly he said the magic words: “I want something serious with you”
What‘s the meaning of something serious? Something serious, you know. I don’t know anything about this stuff. Take it easy, baby. It’s just something serious. Just something serious?! Well, you know, another kind of relationship…
Yes…I’m beginning to understand you…both the same…I can’t believe such kind of bullshit!
A deep silence broke in between them. She could still hear the tone of his voice. It had been enough. She felt like a wild wolf in jail. After that, mixing shouts and tears, she had told him: “You wish i were another woman, but i can’t” After having said that, she left him alone, running into the isolated night.
One year ago…What had happened with her since that time? She couldn’t be sure about it. She had remained all the year long closed in herself. She had seen her friends a couple of times. She had been working hardly, and, in her free time, she had spent it watching movies at home, listening to the same songs again, again, and again. Sometimes she read books. She stood in front of her bookcase and she took some reading.
Even though she had never decided to be alone, she had done it perfectly. Last time she didn’t answer the phone anymore. Everybody who called her had to leave messages. After that she took her time choosing what to do with them.
A few months, or weeks or days ago… she couldn’t be sure about time; her phone had been ringing a lot of times. Nobody had left a message when the time to speak had begun. She was over. She couldn’t stop feeling that her life had no sense. She wanted to do something but the song of the phone didn’t let her do anything. She couldn’t put up with it. Then, suddenly, without consciousness about her acts, she answered the call. An unknown man’s voice was calling for help. She could feel a deep anguish in his voice. He was really hopeless. She thought to hang up immediately. But she didn’t do it. Instead of it, she kept on line, listening carefully. In spite of her willings to get away, something was keeping her up
Help please, help, a man’s voice whispered. Who is talking? I need your help, please.. How can i help you? Listening to what i have to say. Listening what? What i have to say.
They kept on a long silence. No one said anything. Suddenly in a deeper lower voice:
Are you going to help me? I don’t know if i can do it. I don’t know if i want to do it…It would be better to hang up the phone. Don’t do it…please. Now I ‘m feeling better. Maybe just the tone of your voice can help me. I don’t think so. How can you be so sure? And beginning to weep: Cause I never can help anyone. Oh! What a lovely tone. This is what you wanted fucking bastard…You make me feel sick. It’s enough! Fuck you man, FUCK YOU!
She had begun to come down. Giving in she hung up the phone.
One year ago…What was the meaning of time? Was the time a relative stuff?
Thinking about that she came closer to the window. The sunset was beginning, and, the small square was almost empty. A few children were playing with a dirty ball. A couple of kids were kissing each other slowly. An old woman was walking with a little dog. both of them had a freak hairdressing. In the street a young man, whose face looked like very hurried, was running from the right corner up to the left one. Nobody else was there except, of course, that homeless who lived in the park since the first time she opened the window.
She was very tired. She was bored of this kind of landscape. She left the window and sat down on her blue sofa. She had bought it three years ago. Since that day, every day, she sat on it as if it were the first time. She touched the blue cotton as slowly as a caress. Then she looked around the room. Her bookshelf was full of books and papers. Some day she had to tidy it up. But, to-day wasn’t the right one.
What could she do? She came in the small kitchen to prepare a cup of tea. There, nothing ever happened. The empty refrigerator and the few dishes over the table showed it enough. With her tea, she came back to the sofa and sat down there again. It would be fine to listen to any music she thought.
The Sony was on. Surely she had forgotten to turn it off the day before She didn’t have a lot of records because when she discovered anyone that she liked she could spend playing it several times since she found another one out. In spite of it she couldn’t choose anyone. The old wood bookcase that she had taken from her family’s house, the blue sofa, the Sony…that was almost her own world. There was also a plant. In spite of her efforts it insisted on staying alive.
What was up with her that day? The cup of tea went on her hand. It seemed as if she were looking for something. She got in her bedroom. The bed sheets were mixing with the clothes that she took off last night. A book whose title she had forgotten was laying on the wood floor.
She had also forgotten her thoughts. She left the cup of tea over the chair beside the bed and turned in watching the ceiling. Black and white. Everything there was black and white. When she moved to this flat she had guessed to have a black bedroom, her favourite color by that time. At last she had painted the middle of the ceiling and two walls in white. So the bedroom looked like a chessboard. She liked it. Moreover she was pretty glad with her big bed. Just for herself! That was great unless she had such kind of days…
The tea was becoming cold. So was she.
She had the green envelope since last week and, yet, it remained as close as when she had received it. She didn’t decide to open it and look into what it meant. She didn’t know what to do with it. Her hands were trembling. Just her address was written over the green paper. At the back, an unknown name, Sean Henson. Maybe because she was so bored…or by chance that day she did something different. Instead of keeping it carefully she tore the envelope in a wild way. A letter was there. She took it immediately. Her hands went on trembling, and her heart had begun to pound wildly. It doesn’t matter, she thought. Whatever will be! Letting a sigh out she began to read the letter.
To you:
Our time has come. I have waited for this moment for a long time. I have imagined the time to introduce myself a lot of times but I never thought to do it in this way. But, now, I don’t have another chance. I was always waiting for the right time, the right way,…you know. At last I had to decide to give you writing words. I know you like reading. Whenever I see you, you have a book in your hands…oh! Your hands…the same that now are holding my letter…Why do you read so much? Please, don’t begin to think…just, listen to me…read my words…You must be thinking who I am. Don’t worry about it. I just want to know you. Well, in some sense I really know you. You are always there…always. Neither so far, nor so near. In spite of it you have never found me out. How is it possible? You are always watching the world out, but just the furthest one. Through your window…through your books…you keep in touch with a very far world. What’s the meaning of it? Life is going quickly and you remain inside your own mind! Oh!…I’m very sorry…excuse me…I didn’t want to tell you such kind of things but I can’t understand you. You are so beautiful and I can’t put up with this wait. I just need to listen to the tone of your voice. Surely it’s as sweet as the look in your eyes when you watch the sunset through the window…But now the sunset is ending.
Yours.
Sean.
Sean Henson…Who was he? Never had she heard that name before…She looked at the window…He was right…The sunset was ending. She could still hear the laugh of the children in the square. In a few minutes, when the night came in, they should come back home. There, they would take a bath, surely. Clear water mixed with colour soap. The bath tub would be full of toys. What a funny! The laughs were going away and the silence of the street began to fall in a very deep way, coming in through the window. He was right…She was living in the furthest world she had ever imagined.
He seemed to be close. Where was he? She took the directory and looked the name up. It was easy to find it. Unaware of her acts she picked the phone up.
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