Mist (part 4)

No, it’s not possible that things just happen. That can’t be. But why would you wait if you know that eventually, it will happen anyway? That’s what I think she was thinking. Of course I could only guess. She was like a riddle I never solved. Closed. Locked up. It became clear once again when I woke up and she was gone. She simply wasn’t there. I kicked away the sheets and walked into the kitchen, with sleepy eyes and hurting heels. There she was, reading one of my books, in complete silence. She didn’t even look up.
I sat down next to her and said: “Good morning.”
“Hi”. She smiled shyly.
“You’re awake so early?”
“Yeah. Well.”
“Are you hugry?”
“Not really.”
“You like the book?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You can take it with you if you want.”
“Oh no, I would feel like a thief.”
“Why?”
“Just… You know…”
She wanted to rise, but I took her arm and said: “Now you’re the one being distant.”
For a second, maybe two seconds, she seemed a bit hurt, then she turned around and sighed. I let her go and after a few seconds, I followed her to the bedroom. She was changing clothes (I had given her a shirt to sleep in), and smiled when I entered.
“Are you cross with me?” she asked.
“No, of course not.”
“I don’t want to become a problem for you.”
“No, you won’t be.”
She embraced me and then sat down to put on her shoes.
“Shall I bring you home?”
“My bike, William.”
“Oh, yes, I see.”
“And I need some air.”

She left the house in a good mood, with a sweet kiss and the promise of meeting again. And everything seemd to be great and fantastic. I smiled like a fool when I entered the kitchen and got myself something to eat. I discovered that she had left her phone number in my phone, and she had called herself ‘Mist’, as I called her too. Life, at that point, couldn’t have been better.

I had seen but a small part of the shadows surrounding her. The next time she came over, things were different. It began good, she was so kind and funny, and everything was sweet and tender. We drank a glass of wine, talked about books and other stuff and we seemed so intelligent and profound. But during the night, I suddenly woke up and she wasn’t there anymore. I pushed myself up and tried to look around (it was so dark!). I didn’t hear a single thing. Yet she was gone. Where?
I waited a few seconds for her to return. She didn’t. I rose and walked into the kitchen. There was nothing but emptiness. Then I heard the whispers of a door being opened. I turned around and saw her, right there, with a confused look.
“Mist!” I said. “I was searching for you.”
“Searching? Why?”
“Because I didn’t know where you were.”
“I was afraid”, she murmured.
“Afraid of what?”
“Of getting closer.”
For a moment, there was silence.
“Why?”
She bit her lip, looked away and then, then her face changed, like it was closing and she was locking herself up, inside. It was a strange sight, and it confused me, almost scared me.
“I don’t know. Let’s go back”, she said, while taking my hand.
We returned.
She tried to hide behind me. She wanted to use me to protect her. I felt it in the way she lay next to me and held her breath.

Touching from a distant, Ian Curtis sang. It was perfect to describe what I felt. Once she closed, there was no way you could enter her thoughts. And that, that was scary and haunting and it made us suffer.

Because it only got worse. There were nights I heard her gasping for air, there were nights she pushed me away, that she ran away or that she didn’t sleep at all. There were other nights too, filled with passion and sweetness and kind words, excuses and apologies. But then again, it could all soon turn over and change into fear. I believe she was afraid of me. Not really afraid of me, but afraid that I would let her down. She was scared of handing over herself, I guess.

And I tried to comfort her, with all the patience one could ever have. When she pushed me away, still half asleep, I moved away. When she ran away, I stayed where I was and followed her after a few minutes. And yet I could not change it. I could see her closing herself, and I could do nothing.

Isn’t that cruel?

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7 Comments

  1. This is damn good stuff!

    Reply
  2. Your prose is so natural. The dialogues are natural. My only try at writing pose finished when I realized how immature and fake my dialogues were. oh well. I love yours!

    Reply
    • Oh well thanks *blushes*. I just imagine how I would react, because dialogues are so easy to make sound fake.
      And that sentence sounds weird. Forgive me :).

      Reply
  3. I’m actually enjoying reading these backwards. Great stuff!

    Reply

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