No lies, just love.
October 27, 2010 § Leave a comment
Originally written the morning after.
-“When I get fixed, I am convinced that I will not get so broke up again.”
Unless it kicks – Okkervil River
Waking up in an immediately unfamiliar place is disconcerting, made even more disconcerting by the continuing unfamiliarity of that place. I could tell from one half opened eye that I had never been here before. Well not before last night at least. I could see out of open some tall doors that lead out of the balcony, judging from what I could see of buildings I was not on the bottom floor. I had established my floor, next I needed to find out where I was. My mind was beginning to get up to speed slowly. I was lying down, in a bed, and I was naked. That familiar trickle of excitement and fear rushed through my body. I dare not move in case raise any attention from whoever was next to me, that is to say, if anyone was even there. I inspected the room a little further just to clear my head. It was day and the sun was up and the traffic was moving. I was pretty sure I was in a hotel. I racked my brains about the night before. I could only get to the 2nd or maybe 3rd bar with Maxi and Moss, we were fucked up, I remember that much. Right then, the time had come, time to roll over, time to face my actions, time to see who I had done.
Quietly I rolled over, and there she was. And she was beautiful. If she had anywhere near the grace she had while she was awake as she did sleeping then I truly was in the company of someone who I did not deserve to be in the company of but I was far from complaining. She was about my age as far as I could tell. She had short stylish brown hair like a model, a beautiful face, so symmetrical and crafted. Long eye lashes that looked like they need no making up. And the fullest lips that I had ever seen on a girl. And here I was naked in her bed with no idea of the language that they spoke. Unaware of my surroundings, unaware of her pace or politics, unaware of her nature. She was just a stranger. The most charming stranger I had ever seen. Just that second a memory flashed across my brain and I snatched at it, Laughing! My brain screamed, yes! Laughing, and she was there and she was laughing, at last a bond that tied me too her. I thought more, I strained my brain, harder than I had pushed it for a while, and I was rewarded with the most beautiful memory. I remember it making me feel like I hadn’t really felt before, like my heart was dropping out of my body, straight through the floor, deep into the catacombs and carrying on going a fizzing swirl of emotions, like a wild drug, but without the quiet fear.
I had no idea of the time; my hangover wasn’t awful so I must have slept awhile. I was just lying there. This mystery girl was the finest company that I think I had ever woken up next too. I watched her through a half closed eye. I didn’t want her to judge me for staring at her should she wake up. Just then she stirred, she moved, my pulse raced, she was waking up. Her eyes opened and met mine for the second time. They flickered with mild confusions as I could tell that she had gone through the same Molotov Moment. A Molotov moment was a nickname that was passed in my group as the moment you wake up next to someone and try to think of who the hell they are. Named after the militant form of bomb the Molotov Cocktail that had the guarantee of blowing your memory clean away. I waited as her face flickered with the moment, trying to associate me with any memories. To be brutally honest I was praying for a smile, a fond memory, not a face that screamed regret. Like my brain was screaming at me now, my god man, look at her eyes. Just for a smile for this girl, my whole body raced in this silent moment, a very stationary insanity. She smiled, my heart started its new familiar decent through the floor, thank fuck, a smile should not have this sort of effect on a human being.
“Good Morning” I said quietly in a low hangover voice. “Good Morning Indeed” She replied, her smile still intact my brain fizzed with the brand new information that I took from this simple greeting. A French accent but well spoken English which would go a little way to explain how we came to be where we were. The little “indeed” indicated a sort of cheeky wit that I found irresistible, well to me it indicated that at least. And while she said it she shifted in a way that made the cover we were sharing flop down and reveal a naked shoulder. We smiled, we laughed a little, and it was beautiful. I had to grab this conversation and direct it towards more information but before I could my train of thought was interrupted. “You are that English boy aren’t you?” she smiled maintaining solid eye contact, a rare thing to do after a one night stand. “I suppose that’s me, your that French girl right?” I asked, a cheap joke, but I got a laugh. I almost felt embarrassed that my cheap trickery had lead to this. My brain clicked in, the troublesome logic was back. This is a beautiful girl, and she is therefore, extremely dangerous, I had to pull away before she got into my brain and stayed for longer than I would care to mention. But all these hazardous warnings that I had sworn by mere hours before were irrelevant. Because I was smiling like a six year old when their football team win, and to me that was all that mattered. Fuck my brain, after years I still attach myself to people I barley know knowing that the only result has been brief stints of ecstasy followed by months of mind numbing depression. I swore to myself that the next time I felt these feelings I would pull out, quit while I was ahead. But such a pretty girl, in such unusually and poetic circumstances.
Some people will never be pleased, here I was in the company of a beautiful woman who I had spent the night with and my brain couldn’t help but find fault. I was sure know that the drink had carried on, this was not sober thought. I had to question my thought in this state. I racked my brain. Maybe past relationship had told me that this could be as good as it gets and you can only win here if you walk away now. We laughed some more which made leaving harder. I told her that I had to get up to meet someone and for some reason assured her that it wasn’t a girlfriend or wife. She just smiled in the most beautifully charming way. I wrote my phone number on her mirror in lipstick, I was always one for the classics, she laughed as I did it. I pulled on my clothes, I pulled on the coat, and it had survived another night. I kissed her goodbye, I learned away but she pulled me back in. It took me 25 minutes to leave after that, she had my number. She was smiling when I left, rapped in a duvet. To anyone who thinks that my actions are impossible to justify then you’ve never been in love.
There is a way that all men walk after they have had sex with a beautiful woman. It can be seen around 8-9am in almost every built up area in world. A man, alone, looking unwashed and slightly dishevelled but walking with his shoulders back with the presence of a king. It was a walk I had taken on that morning. I headed down the corridor to the lift, straight in, down to the bottom floors and straight out the door, a nice clean cut.
Paris was bright that morning and despite leaving such a beautiful girl I was happy. The trip had come true. I got to the tower around 13:15 and Mossy was waiting for me, Ernest McLain got the conversation.
Moss: Lourell you slut, I know exactly where you’ve been you dog. She was hot from what I remember man, but mate we were so fucking toasted.
Myself: Yeah man, was extremely pretty. Man I don’t remember much, but I love what I do remember. Where the fuck is Maxi? And where did you end up?
Moss: Mate I woke in this girls bed and her old man or someone, I don’t know who the fuck he was, but mate he was pissed and that fucker had a bat and was not happy, he was screaming French, I grabbed my trousers and was straight out of the window. It was hilarious.
Myself: Where’s Maxi man? We should get back to the car pretty soon.
So we waited under the tower for 45 minutes and then Maxi rolled on up looking worse for wear. He was sucking on a bottle of water surely hopping that he could regain some of his energy. We spotted him a long way off and he started the long walk towards us. Myself and Mossy had a laugh at the state of him during Maxis long journey towards us. Ernest McLain took this onboard too.
Myself: Oi oi stranger, where the did you get too?
Maxi: I have no idea man, I don’t remember a thing, I woke up in an alley with a phone number written in felt tip on my arm, man, I’m too scared to ring it. We really tore it up last night didn’t we?
Maxi: I didn’t man, Jesus, I feel that someone has stabbed me up. Jesus.
Mossy: Haha man, we better go check out the car.
Myself: Yeah man, where the hell is next?
We left Paris this afternoon. The city had been good too us and we wouldn’t be forgetting it in a hurry. Now we were pushing the car south, I watched the big city lights fade as we drifted into the suburbs. I couldn’t help but wonder about that girl, as was so typical of me I hadn’t collected a name, to me she was just “Paris Girl “. Naming girls like this was a bad habit that I had slipped into around the age of 16. Maybe it was better this way, no affairs, no arguments, no bad times, no embarrassing moments, no lies just love.