She watches as he throws the guy from the bar -whatever his name was - out of her apartment. He's not a big man but he's tall and athletic. And when he's mad, he has the strength of a beast. She knows this all too well but it's different when he roughs her up. That was fun, this is not. She looks around her room, totally trashed, broken glasses everywhere - what used to be her prized crystal ashtray, now only reflects a kind of dull light off it. She'll be needing a new dressing table too. She climbs off her bed, careful not to step on any broken fragment of her possessions that were wrecked by his rage.
She reaches for the shirt Bar Guy left on the chair. The guy's lucky he managed to slip his pants back on before he got thrown out, or he'll be out in the streets stark naked right now. She sits on the chair and puts the shirt on. She finds a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in the front pocket and lights one for herself. Just minutes ago, her room was turned upside down by his storming rage, and now, there she is, all alone in her bedroom, with a fag between her fingers, enjoying some peace and quiet. She smirks at the thought. She wonders what's happening with him and Bar Guy right now. She's pretty sure they'd take each other out the moment they left her apartment. Maybe the cops are picking them up right this moment. 'Good', she says to herself. She doesn't have to deal with him tonight.
She can't be more wrong.
As soon as she finishes her cigarette, she hears her apartment door swing open. She chokes a little but she knows what's coming. She sees his shadow looming near her bedroom door and when he finally stands before her, she sees his face covered in cuts and bruises. 'What a brawl that must be,' she muses. Seems like Bar Guy did some damage on him too.
Despite her room being dimly lit, she can see the blank fury on his face. He's definitely seething.
"What's your point?", he asks, his voice low, fighting back the angst still inside of him.
She pretends she didn't hear him, tilts her head back and says, "Oh, hello stranger...".
"Don't!", he snaps.
"What?", she asks, feigning ignorance.
"Don't patronise me," he replies.
"Oh, I wanted to greet you with a 'hello, heart breaker', but you know, I don't wanna be too cruel," she mocked him, making air quotes with her fingers when she says 'too cruel'.
He paces up to her, ignoring the broken pieces of glass at his feet, yanks her from the chair and pins her against the wall. With one hand he has her arms over her head and the other, he grabs her hips, locking her in place. She looks up to meet his eyes. Part of her yearns getting physical with him, but an even bigger part of her is disgusted by how weak she is against him.
"Remember we used to do this a lot, huh? You pinning me against any surface available? Good times, eh? I had fun, then, but this isn't fun! You're hurting me! Let me go!", she hisses.
He loosens the grip on her arms and says, "Why is it, with you, I could ONLY be, either the guy who is distant in your life, or the guy who does nothing but breaks your heart?! WHY?!".
With pain clearly in her eyes, she whispers, "And why are you so against the truth? Tell me, which of what you just said is not true?".
He lets her go, affected by her words. He slumps his body by the side of her bed, hanging his head between his knees. Every few seconds, he massages the back of his neck. She stands across him with a blank expression but her mind is set. They've been here many, many times before. This has to be the worst and she no longer have it in her to do this anymore. She's done.
Finally, he holds his head up. His eyes are red and wet.
"I tried. I came back. I'm always coming back to you. And now I come back but you're pushing me away," he says, the sound of loss in his voice.
She steps forward and kneels before him. She takes his face in her hands and kisses his lips gently - how she misses those lips! Tears fall from her eyes as she breathes him in. He kisses her back, but when he tries to kiss her deeply and furiously, she pulls away. She's not letting it end like that tonight. Not tonight. He looks at her, bewildered.
"Yes, Love, you are always coming back. But will you ever stay?", she's not looking for answers, she already know. He tries to say something but she silents him with a finger to his lips. She's heard it all before, she doesn't want to hear it again. She kisses him on the lips, one more time, and then gets on her feet.
She finds the chair again, sits on it and lights another cigarette.
Without looking at him, she says, "I want to be alone now. Please leave..."
------------------------------
(2)
With the night as their backdrop, she skips on one leg trying to escape the imaginary lava, like the game she used to play back when she has little care for the world. He watches her, amused and is reminded that it is her childlike demeanour that got him caught under her spell. The spell that he has been trying to run away from, for as long as he can remember.
She skips another step or two. And then she trips. And then he catches her. Leaning closer to him for support, his scent intoxicated her for a second. For that brief second, she remembers how close they used to be. How their bodies used to marry.
She looks at him and says, "How is it possible for your skin to be so warm but your heart, so cold?".
Right there and then, for the millionth time, she guts him. And she does so carelessly.
"Takes one to know one," he replies, killing what's left of her. Neither of them can win. Both defeated by each other's words.
Fazleena Latiff.
16 March 2014
