By Peter Barry
Publisher: Manchester University Press
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This friend of mine invited me in her place, without giving me a time. Come whenever you like, she wrote in her text, and to me it was cool. When I arrive she opens the door, smiles, and tells me she is really glad to see me. Such a long time we don't see each other, she says, and I think she is right, it feels like a century. She lets me in and asks if I want a cup of coffee. Sure, I say, and while we go in the kitchen she asks me how I am doing. I tell her I am seeing my ex-girlfriend, and my friend seems pleased, she always liked my ex-girlfriend. When we arrive in the kitchen she puts the coffee to boil and I sit at the table, where I see a high number of condoms spread all over. Oh, don't mind those, she says, in such a way that I can not help following her advice. So how are you doing? I ask her, and after she puts the coffee on she sits at the table with me and says she is ok. She and her partner are having a good time, she says, and grabs a condom. He has got a good job now, she adds, and then she reaches for a little red box on the window sill. We have some little issues though, but I just began working on them, she says, and as she says that she opens the red box, takes a needle, and starts to puncture the condom with the most profound care. The coffee is ready. Do you mind pouring it in those two mugs there? she asks, and I don't, I don't mind. I never actually mind anything, which is like to say I do mind pretty much everything, yesterday for example I kissed my ex-girlfriend for the first time after we broke up three years ago, and I didn't mind that, neither that as soon as our lips got separated I found myself with a tourniquet around my arm and a syringe in my neck. My girlfriend told me hey, you got a syringe on your neck, and she made for pulling it out, but it didn't come out, and so she pulled stronger until she gave up and focused her attention on the tourniquet. Only after she untied the tourniquet she also managed to pull out the syringe out of my neck, and as she did that some blood squirted out of the vein and quickly dried out on my skin. Do you think this time is gonna work? she asked then. I don't know, I said. And as everything became motionless, she suddenly was to my own flesh and to my own organs, to my own mind, to my own nerves, for an instant she run through me like electricity until she vanished and went out again. We have been separated for an instant only, she says once she is out. Everything moves again. A sharp pinch on the left side of my forehead makes my eyes wink, and then my friend's voice asks me what I am thinking about. What? I ask back. I asked you if you can help with these condoms, she says, and I say I would rather not. Why? she asks, and I try to let her understand why. I tried all afternoon. She didn't get it. However, I wonder if reasons really matter.
(skate) said on Nov 08, 2016, 01:37