X, SHE and Z

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
My intention is not to drink alone the bottle of tequila but the guys are really late. The music and the alcohol print on me some kind of despair. Something tells me that this will not be a great evening. We will review the pictures of the last wild night, we'll laugh and maybe even we will blush. Maybe we overdid it but one day we will be old and it will be already too late to try any kind of excess.

Submitted: February 09, 2013

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Submitted: February 09, 2013

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Note:  English is not my natural language.  If you find some mistakes I will appreciate you let me know to correct them.  Thanks.

 

X, She and Z
By
Daniel Cardona Ochoa.


My intention is not to drink alone the bottle of tequila but the guys are really late. The music and the alcohol print on me some kind of despair. Something tells me that this will not be a great evening. We will review the pictures of the last wild night, we'll laugh and maybe even we will blush. Maybe we overdid it but one day we will be old and it will be already too late to try any kind of excess. Maybe X will show up stoned and he won’t pay too much attention to the photographs. He did not really pay much attention to anything since the Seattle’s guy blew his own head. He will laugh anyway, will leave his skateboard next to the door, remove his Converses and greet me with a stupid smile before giving me a hug as long as his hair. He won’t ask my permission to open one of my bottles, he will do it without any shame, as if he owned it and then he will serve me a huge glass, in the same way, without asking, without confirming whether I want to drink because we both know I have no choice. He will take my computer and set up a playlist of his favorite grunge band. According to his mood he'll program the blue tunes, the angry ones or the happy ones. Off course he'll talk about Courtney the hooker, about how stupid Kurt was when he decided to share his life with that harpy, with the dog that did not have the slightest qualms about sending him directly to hell.
 

Meanwhile we'll hear the ring and Z will appear in front of my door. The boys were separated during a couple of months and when I ask what the hell happened they are not able to give me a good explanation. Sometimes I think his complicity goes beyond that invisible boundary that should not be crossed but guys like X and Z are totally crossed. We swear that some things are forever, like tattoos, but you end up getting rid of them. I like to think that our friendship is not one of those cases but the word “never” is not part of my vocabulary. Z will be focused on the photos and will bow his lips in that way that only he can do it to give me a smile and perhaps something else, a slight touch or a flirtatious gesture. It will be too early to attempt a kiss but the night is long and in due course I'll let him to bite my tongue. Today I changed my piercing; I don’t want to give the image of a dull girl. Monotony is one of those things that keep away guys like X and Z and now I don’t want to lose them. Some have already done so and the last one fucked me up. I do not want to cheat myself; it would be stupid to think that I'm fine, that his absence does not affect me. But the blow is softer when I am not alone. Being surrounded by people does not mean you feel less alone but helps distract. What I like is that Z and X make me laugh. His grunge's attitude of infinite melancholy is definitely not a pose, that is for sure,  but it also fails to camouflage it’s fun side. Z's sarcasm and the constant X's anger can turn a terrible tragedy into a joke. They're a couple of fools who will never grow and maybe they are not concerned about it at all, they do not swim  with the current, they stay in that place where everything seems to be good and everyone want to push you away. They have resisted, taking the risk to be labeled as “zero ambition” and that is why I love them.  Because it is better to sleep on a mattress on the floor than in a bed of fine wood with the wrong guy lying next to you, being bombarded with employment concerns and the possibility of losing in a second all the stupid things that represents his insignificant life.

Sometimes it's better to have nothing, there's no risk of losing. Z said that night while injecting his left arm that the only rule to be followed was "never allow them to intimidate you." Then he smiled and let his mind to travel so far. Somehow it sounded like a sort of farewell and I was sad, so I asked X to do it for me. I was not in the mood of injecting my own needle. X did it and I made my own journey. It's not like the guys had painted to me, as an orgasm in every part of the body. The truth: I never had that feeling. In my case it feels like a kind of lightness, as if all the weights you have over you starts to disappear right away the substance enters to your bloodstream. Today I am not in a party mode, I would stay home with the guys and listen to death the Jane Birkin vinyl Z gave me a day that was not my birthday. Nor was it Christmas or Valentine's Day or any other special supposedly those dates. He just did appear as never, without X and without warning, with a second hand vinyl and a bottle of vodka. What happened had to happen and something I have the feeling that X does not know anything about that. If I were a man I would look for a girl on the type of Jane Birkin. Maybe I will try it someday, maybe I’ll get drunk and with a few dollars in my pockets I will take my car and eat the streets in search of a bit of affection. Someone told me not to let my fragility be abused. I sent him to hell. Share my car with the guys and invite them occasionally for a couple of drinks does not make them bloodsucking monsters. Some people are jealous and pretend to impregnate me with their own unhappiness. If they are not satisfied with the life they lead I rather doubt they can straight the situation getting into mine. My ex-husband said that every relationship should be of benefit – cost kind. Although I can’t stand that stupid corporate jargon used even in bed, I must admit that he was right. I still have my car and money is not a concern. Maybe that seduces somehow, but I have learned to know well my friends and clearly that is not the reason that keeps them close to me. Once I tested and I invented a mechanical failure. Z managed to show up in a car as old as Jane Birkin album. He did not tell me how he found that funny artifact. "Contacts are my only belongings" – said to me with some pedantry. X laughed as contagiously as the virus that was killing him and we disappeared amid the heavy traffic talking about nothing able to fix the world. The truth is we do not talk much. Our communication is limited to the laughter, music, jokes and love. The talks only serve to ruin everything. Psychologists say that the foundation of any relationship is the dialogue but that's a real shit. Most relationships deteriorate because of excess of dialog and lack of skin.

The more you open your mouth more likely you are to penetrate a secret, to find what you never lost or listening to the wrong answer. X do not have much time and lives in a frenzy. His speed is different from ours because although we are aware that the story will end someday we sense that the book is long. He told me about the virus when our first kiss was inevitable. I slapped him with all my heart and gave him a string of insults before letting me down on the bed and cry like a crazy all night. "At that time there was no bleach program" – he said. I hated him with all my heart at that moment, the fact that soon he would leave us was an unforgivable crime. I felt having been holding on to a block of ice that melted and deformed minute by minute. X knows that his story will end at around two or three pages. He won’t be old, he won’t remember these chaotic times in which the heart is still strong enough to keep insisting. I do not know if what devours me is a feeling of sadness, rage, or rather of envy. What is clear for me is that I will miss his silent hugs, those that I never ask for but he always gives me when I am going down, as I am now, a little bit anxious, a little bit empty. I have the feeling that today wont be a great night. I do not know why, maybe I drank too much and according to my exhusband the alcohol is a powerful depressant. I wanted to reply that depressants were he and his life lessons but those talks were that exhausting that I chose to agree on everything. It was my strategy to avoid his stupid mind games where a replica was already predestined for each one of my answers.
Maybe today I am too drunk but the guys are really late and I miss the X's hugs and the Z's kisses and for now only the tequila is able to give me a little warmth in this cold night.


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