How was I to know that day? Should I have avoided this to save us the pain? Was everything we lived together worth facing this? One of his first sentences was “Love me if you dare”. And I dared. And am I meant to dare him? Love me if you dare. Love me. Love me. Hold my hands. Wake up. Don’t waste time! Wake up! Hold my hands…don’t waste our time! I dare you to love me.
I want him to be happy, I want to have flowers on the table and something orange to eat… I don’t know what. But I want orange, or maybe white, food on the table. And I want him to smile to me and kiss me while we eat. Then we should take a walk in the park and rest on an isolated bench, until I can’t any longer resist the insects biting my skin. And when we get home I would feel tired and my skin would be hot from the sun, and his hands would seem cold on my neck. And I would smell of sun and grass and he would give me water, because my mouth would be dry. And then we would undress and would fall asleep between white, cold, sheets.
I like it when he pretends he is angry with me. When he refuses to kiss me. When he closes his eyes and smiles while I kiss him. When he is watching me when I am not aware. When he comes out of the bathroom while washing his teeth just to see what I am doing. When we talk while he is shaving. When we have the exact same thoughts, in the same moment. When I convince him to eat something new. When he writes. When he talks on the phone. When he is happy. When he is mine.
Don’t let go of my hand. I might stop breathing. I might die. How could I be certain? After I eat oranges you like to smell my fingers and taste my mouth. You shiver when I breathe on your back. You like me to read to you. You always wake up before me and watch me sleep. You like to press you forehead against mine and stay like that, in silence, thinking, trying to understand, trying to get through to me. You are fascinated with the small scar under my left breast, and always develop surrealistic scenarios about how I got it. But how could I know?
Look at me! You’ll never see me again. I’ll never touch your lips again. I’ll never cook for you. We’ll never fight and make up. I’ll never wake up near you. I’ll never take care of you when you are sick. I’ll never make you laugh. I’ll never make you incredibly angry. Look at me. Touch me. I am leaving you…
He might never understand this .Will he miss me? Will he really miss me? Will he feel the same pleasure when another woman would kiss him? Will he say to her the same words? Will he love her skin as he loves mine? Will he ever find someone to guess his thoughts? To take care of him? To really understand what he needs? Will he forget me?