“And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn’t really mean it. But that isn’t true. At the time when it happens you do mean it.”—
Julia in 1984.
Is perfect love possible with mankind? I think not. George Orwell does put it very simply. Everybody is selfish in the end. Unconditional perfect love is beyond human capacity.
I am late and I am going to lie. It’s not like she would be too bothered by it. Mostly a calm one, she is. She’ll probably be standing outside, nails between her teeth, gnawing at them for dear life. God, she needs to stop it just because she looks like a tunnel rat doing it. Where is she, where is she? Oh God, I was right. Nails.
"Darling, you look good today." I pull her hands away from her face and start walking.
"Well, thanks. Did you have to rush from somewhere?" I hate it when she does this. If I don’t give her a satisfactory answer now, she’s going to punctuate the conversation with a string of seemingly non-interrogational passive aggressive questions.
I’m going to lie now. “Oh yeah, I nicked my finger while closing the cabinet in the toilet and I had to ice it. I am so sorry! Come come.”
She just raised her eyebrow at me. She’s not buying it. Let me just put my hand on her shoulder and lightly guide her inside. She might just start a topic about her friend who was late last week and it made her upset because she broke “the quarter rule”. Just to pick at me. She thinks I do not notice. She literally raises her hands in mock amazement at that. I’ll distract her later. First things first.
"So, how was the session?" Why does she have to skip the small talk all the time? I was just going to ask about coffee. Oh wait, her arm.
"Stop. More about that later. What happened to your arm?" I look at her, trying hard not to appear too concerned.
"Oh, I knocked into the aisle at the studio. Quite clumsy, really. I didn’t see it or the can beside it." She replied nonchalantly, looking around the place.
"Please, you might just find yourself swimming in ink one day. What will I do with a blue-ish companion?" I say this with a forced smile I hope she doesn’t notice.
"Buy me a red knit beanie and I could be your smurf friend?" She says this while looking down at her feet and smiling. I worry for her. She tends to allow these absent-minded slip-ups and she doesn’t look after the bruises, as if her body did not matter.
"Anyway, I asked you about the session. Can we just sit here, please?"
"Alright alright. I thought it would be good to sit by the window but here’s fine."
She’s talking, non-stop. They’re not doing too well. My mind is drifting and I feel bad. At least she forgot about the session. Okay, I get it. They’re arguing but people argue. Way I see it, they all end up the same anyway. I’m going to interrupt her.
“Are you done with your muffin? Shall we go for a ride?” I want to leave her, now.
“You drove? Oh okay, where to?” She does not notice my urgency. I’m getting better at this.
“Let’s just leave here and decide later.”
Thank goodness I parked just around the bend. I can’t imagine having to walk a long way, trying to look like I’m interested in what she’s saying, because I really cannot right now. She spots my car and I see her going to the back door. “Are you going to sit in the back again?”
"You know how I am. Haha."
"Don’t be ridiculous. Sit here with me." I’m pointing to the front seat as I walk towards the car. She’s giving me her puppy-eyed guilt-trip expression that I always want to throw a slap across. She knocks her head while getting into the car.
"SHIT! YOUR CAR!" I forgive her for the guilt-trip face. Why am I not surprised that happened.
She doesn’t strap herself in and sits completely upright, again. I give up. I mean, I get it. She tells me being in front seems too personal. But I know that when he drives everybody out, she sits in the back. And I know she doesn’t strap herself in and he drives like a madman running from a death sentence.
"Why not you just practice it every now and then?" I’m slightly fed up.
"Safety?" Annoyance. With a smile. I should be getting a medal for this fanfare.
"I’m not used to seat belts. Anyway, you haven’t told me where you had in mind. Where are we going?"
"I’m a little tired, think I’ll just drop you off. Is that alright? Sorry dear. It’s been a long day."
"Oh, alright then."
She’s talking about her new shoes and how they hurt. I saw she wasn’t wearing plasters. I have to drop her off soon. I can’t keep watching her anymore. Her and her outright carelessness and negligence as a feeble attempt to feel it hitting her without actually taking the blame for hitting herself. All that giving her headaches. It’s beyond me. But I love her anyway.
“Okay, this is you.”
“Thanks! Come pick me up again next week okay?”
“Yeah yeah go on now you vision with a mission. Stop biting okay.” She knocks her ankle into the car door because she had it opened halfway. Just a tiny yelp. God. She has to stop it. I see her walk in, keys in hand already. She was sad. I felt bad for leaving her like that but shit, I need to go back. Thank heavens she did not ask about the session anymore. I did not want to have to lie again. I need to get this out of me. Pathetic. What the hell, I only had a mocha. Damn it. That’s 400 cals.
“The obvious, the silly and the true had got to be defended. Truisms are true, hold on to that! The solid world exists, it’s laws do not change. Stones are hard, water is wet, objects unsupported fall towards the earth’s centre… Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows.”—Winston Smith in 1984 on writing his diary against Big Brother.
“But if I fall and hurt myself, would you know how to fix me? But if I went and lost myself, would you know where to find me? If I forgot who I am, would you please remind me? Oh, cause without you, things go hazy.”—William Fitzsimmons in Hazy with Rosi Golan.