Playing with shadows

We fought about me not wanting to go out with her friends. Well, I found those Jimmy Choos boring. Fuck, and their obese husbands. All of them reeking of some French piss. ‘So what if you paid 100 euros for 15ml?’

And then, we fought about how I didn’t want to meet my friends. Mine were fucking annoying. Now it was about the markets, school admissions, the next pay raise, poor infrastructure, and how the government was fucking us, while China was fucking our government. ‘Please, spare me your reality.’

I came back to mine.

She was on a roll. She went on about how I hated everything. I didn’t like the neighbours. It’s true, I didn’t. They were bloody inquisitive. Not my type. ‘We don’t always have to discuss your parking woes. And yes, Ms BigBoobs on the seventh floor sleeps around, but I don’t fucking care. Your wife does too, but I never brought it up, you poor cuckolded bastard.’ 

By now she was talking relatives and how I hated them. An unfair allegation, I thought. I didn’t like them, didn’t mean I hated them.

She droned on. Gosh, she made me sound horrible; made me hate myself.

And then, in one brief moment of insanity, I smiled – but only with my mouth – and told her to fuck off. I told her I didn’t need her shit. I might have called her a cunt. ‘Nice word: cunt!’ I think my eyes might have smiled when I did it.

She sat there, stunned. She hadn’t expected my venom.

And in a weird way, I was childishly pleased; I was pleased that I could still surprise her…

I saw the hurt look in her eyes. I felt bad. Almost.

Meanwhile, a part of me had already worked up an anger that some other part was advising against. But I was having too much fun: like the guy who’s willing to jump off a jagged cliff just to experience the thrill. ‘Fuck, was that poetic, or was that poetic?’

She stood up. Ten minutes and two suitcases later, I was alone.

And then there was a knock. I knew who it was. I didn’t need to open the door. He walked in. He always came when I was this way. ‘Fucker!’

“Hullo Melan,” I half-heartedly greeted him.

And he smiled that sad smile of his.

“Fancy a game of cards?” he asked as he saw me reach for the pills and gulp down a dangerous dosage.

“Just the two of us?” 

“No, not just us two,” he smiled that sad smile again.

“Fuck off, not her as well,” I moaned as I spotted the newest entrant into my house. ‘Funny how a home turns into a house in an instant.’

So there we were: Melan, Colly and me. I drowsily shuffled the cards and laid them out for a game of Solitaire.