Scent of coffee grounds

Bam bam bam. A light, then nothing. Quick pics flow like a film, quick flashes now slowing down. Here we are, me and Roby. I've grazed my knee, because he was holding me and he let me slip out of his arms. I'm afraid of blood, but I don't want to cry because I don't want to give him this satisfaction. «It hurts?» «YES!!» «Sorry, didn't mean to…» «You're a jerk, as usual. I won't play with you ever again.» And then I cuddle up, pretending to hurt more than I actually do. He stands up and goes to the kitchen, he's gone for a while. When he comes back, he's got two coffee cups, even if mama doesn't want us to drink it. «I put four sugars in yours, shall we make peace?» I don't answer, take my cup and mix the sugar. He's fooling around, gargles and make me laugh. «Still mad?» «Little less now.» «So you can smell the scent?» «What scent?» «That scent you smell after you drank a cup of coffee when you're happy. Can you smell it?» «You're right, I can smell something. I think it's the scent of coffee grounds.» «Oh, I thought it was the cup. But you're the one to know such stuff, so I trust you. It's the scent of coffee grounds.» Pics flowing again, running fast. Here they slow down again. Me and Roby again, but older. I'm crying after I just broke up. «Hussshhhhhh c'mon, stop it huuuushhhhhhh!!» He could never stand my tears, he's afraid of seeing me cry. «It's not worth it, c'mon! He was such an asshole!! He can't force you to do something you don't want to! If you're meant to be, you will meet him again, if not you'll find a thousand other guys, much better than him!! Huuusssshhhh stop it, c'mon stand up and follow me.» He draws me out to the balcony where we hang our laundry out to dry. We can see all the roofs from there, time's close to sunset. «Do you think it's worth to cry?? Look at this sight, look at the colors of the clouds! This is worth crying for, but with happiness!!» I stopped crying, but I don't give a damn about the clouds. «Thanks.» I smile. «Fine, that's a start. If you stop fuckin' sulk, then, you can also find a new Brad Pitt.» I push him in play and laugh, he puts his hand on my shoulder and we go back inside.

Bam bam bam. I open my eyes, where am I? Blue light Oh My God I can't breathe aaahhhh aaahhhh calm down calm down it's just an oxygen mask. I take a deep breath, where am I? IV everywhere, am I at the hospital? I'm passing out, I close my eyes. Pics flowing again, as if I'm watching a movie. Me and Roby again, we're children again, we're puffing up our cheeks. We're Bubboo and Bubbee, we must keep talking like this until one of us laughs. He's doing everything he can to make me laugh, and finally he manages to. He's happy, but not because he won, just because I'm laughing. Pics flowing again, memories shoal and mix together. Here I am, at Roby's door. Ding-dong. «Heeeyyy dumby, how come you're here??» «Hi.. well… I dropped by to give you the invitation, you know... I'm marrying Manuel.» «Oh. Oh, OK. But, are you sure? Come on in, let's talk about it.» «Oh no, he's waiting in the car, I'm on a rush... sorry.» He looks down at the invitation. «Sorry for what? The thing is, I don't know if you would still be sorry, if you were happy. And if you would miss that sparkle in your eyes. But if you say you're happy, then I believe you, you know I trust you.» «And I trust you.» I've got a lump in my throat, I don't want him to frown at me. «Don't turn away from me.» «Heeeyyyy are you nuts?? How could Bubboo turn away from Bubbee??» And he puffs up his cheeks, like when we were children. I laugh, and he's relieved to see me laugh as I used to. «But if you have any problems, you know I'm here, right?» I hold him tight, because I'm afraid we will end up growing away anyway.

White lights, distant voices. «Doctor, the girl is waking up.» One light in one eye, then in the other one. «Giovanna, can you hear me?» My mouth is furred, I can't answer. «Sedate her, she's still weak». It's dark again, and the pics are flowing again. Me and Roby walking on the beach after it rained. He lifts some wet sand with his umbrella and I get dirty. I'm about to get mad at him when he throws me to the ground with a wrestler's move, we laugh and fight. Back at the bungalow, mama gets really mad. «C'mon mama, it's my fault 'cause I made her kinda tumbling down!!» I laugh again. Pics flowing, once again. We're in his car, I'm crying while Roby's driving. «I don't wanna start with "I warned you", so let me just say he's the biggest jackass on Earth. And stop looking at that fucking mobile or I'll throw it away!! He's not gonna call you, and if he does, he will talk to ME! When will you begin to understand how much you deserve thanks to the wonderful person you are and all you give to other people??» «Sure, what I give besides ballbusting? Evidently, I wasn't enough for him.» «YEAH, SURE!! And if that was true, he's justified in finding another woman? Are you kidding??! If I weren't driving I would wrestle with you like we used to, just to see if I can re-activate some cells in that brain of yours!! And do you really want to know what you give to other people? Look at what I found in my stuff, the other day, read something that's worth crying for, c'mon!» He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, it's old and yellow. At the top, there's a date written by a child. «Hey, what the fuck is he doing?? WWWOOOHHHAAA!!»

Bam bam bam. I wake up, I'm still numb but my head is clear. A nurse is changing the IV. «Good morning Giovanna, how do you feel?» «Confused… weak» «You had a bad accident, it's normal.» «Roby… Roberto, my brother, where is he?? How is he?» «You must thank him, if he hadn't had that quick reaction... he sheered on his side, to avoid you being hurt. He saved your life. He's in a different ward.» «Can I see him? I want to see him.» «Maybe tomorrow, right now he's still too weak.» She goes away. I start looking around, bringing the room into focus. I see my mobile on the bedside table, and that piece of paper. I must have had it in my hands. I take it and read the first lines:

“March 10th 1989. That is the day I turn eight.

Today I'm writing the eight nine or maybe ten stuff I more like, so when I read this in four or maybe five years I can see what I like still and what not. I begin from the less good to the best good.

10.Playing Pang on the Amiga, cos I always win at Pang and sometimes at golden axe too.

09.The recess at school, so I can run and play and I can not study for a while.

08.When we sit around the table at Christmas and New Years Eve all together and we laugh a lot and we eat what Auntie makes and then we count sixty fiftyfive and so on, cos now I can cos I'm older but some time ago I couldn't cos I was too young and I slept a lot earlier.

07.The scent of burned paper and wood when papa cooks barbecue and we collect pine needles. Then papa always gets sick and that's not good, but before it is.

06.The scent of grass when it rains or maybe not, the scent of everything when it's not raining anymore and everybody go around in tracksuit with the umbrella and then you can see the rain bowl too.

05.When we go to the beach together, cos we sing in the car and we laugh all the time but then my sister gets sick so we must be quiet but I still like it.

04.When my mom hugs me tight and I don't know that she wants to hug me, so I like it anyway no I like it even more.”

A smile fills my mouth, tears fill my eyes, I close the paper and decide to go on reading it later, with Roby. He's so right, there are many things worth crying for. Finally they let me see him. Doctors have dark, crusty faces, I don't like them. They stop me in the hallway.

«Hi.»

«Hi.»

«Miss D., maybe you should wait a little while. It's not a good show.»

«I don't care, I wanna see Roby. How is he?»

«Oh… he's not well, Miss D.»

«What do you mean? How long will he have to stay here?»

«Well… he suffered some traumas and brain damages which led to an oedema… he's in coma, Miss D.»

«Coma? But he will pull through. He must pull through.»

«We don't have big hopes, honestly. I'm sorry but... well, if he doesn't react in the next six hours, we will have to declare his brain death. I'm really sorry Miss D., honestly.» Silence.

«Mrs.»

«Sorry?»

«You keep calling me "Miss" even though I'm married. Mrs.»

«Oh… sorry. Seriously, you'd better choose another moment to see your brother.»

«No. If you're telling the truth, this could be my last chance to see him.»

«It's up to you then, ma'm. Let me take you to the room.»

The room is dark, Roby's got IV everywhere. His head is all wrapped, his legs too. Oh My God brother, what happened? I get closer and hold his hand. «Hi, it's me.» Beep beep beep. «C'mon, stop pretending, you won. Wake up.» Beep beep beep. I can feel a lead weight on my stomach. It's called helplessness. I'm looking at the only man –or maybe the only person- who never deceived me, and gave me all he had without asking anything back. And I'm helpless. And I can't even tell him, how special he is. How long I've been looking for someone like him, someone who could see in me all the good things he saw. I can't stop staring at that bandage around his head... how much did it hurt??! Why?? To save me, once more. To save my life and save me from my life, at the same time. To make me realize how many walls I built along the years. Walls around myself, to prevent me from getting at my heart and hurt myself. Walls against other people, to prevent them from getting at my heart and destroy me. Walls against the whole world, afraid of I don't know what, but it's something that could kill me if it'd only got closer. Maybe it's fear of happiness. Roby never built any walls. Every time he was slapped, he smiled back. And every time he was let down, he chose to trust again. Like he did with me. I let him down all my life. And yet he made me feel the most important person in the world. What's so special in me, I don't know. I can't even wake you up. I keep crying. Oh yeah, the list. I take the paper, start reading it and remembering with him. Nothing. Beep beep beep. There's only half an hour left, I've been here for five hours and a half. I go on reading, there are three items left.

“03.The sun set when there are a lot of clouds in the sky, and they color orange and pink and then birds fly into them and there's the light wind that ruffles my hair.

02.The scent of coffee grounds, cos then you are very happy if you smell it, and you love very very much that who's with you. When my sister is there I always smell it. Only if I drink coffee, that is.”

Oh, yeah. It's been a long time since I thought about that. It's been a long time since I last smelled it. I take a glimpse to the last line, and everything collapses. The world as I considered it until now, the idea of being forced to fight for something different from what I already have. I look around and discover a new world, that is the same world but now I'm able to see it. And I understand that my life is stronger than my efforts to ruin it. And I finally understand that there are many things worth crying for, but many more things worth laughing for. Once again, Roby gave me joy, gave me my life back.

“01.My sister's smile, cos it colors everything and it seems that there's a light so strong that you must close your eyes, even if it's raining outside. And she always smiles even if I say silly silly stuff, but she smiles cos she's nice. Here they are. This are the stuff I more like. One day I say them to my sister, so she can say hers. Not today cos she's mad, and I want to make her laugh. So then she's happy.”

Beep beep beep. I can't hold back the tears anymore. I stop. I read the list all over again. Beep beep beep. A doctor walks in. «Ma'am… you should walk out the room.»

«No.»

«Please, ma'am, we must unplug the machines.»

«Unplug them, but I'm staying here. And bring me a coffee, with lots of sugar.»

«But ma'am…» He's persuaded by my glance. When the nurse comes in bringing my coffee, I slowly mix it. I look at Roby, and I can't see anything else. I drink my coffee as we used to. Beep beep beep. Beep beep. Then nothing. His face softens, he looks as if he's ready to stick out his tongue and make me laugh. Thus I laugh, laugh, laugh and everybody thinks I'm crazy but I can't see them nor hear them. Out of the windows there's one of our sunsets, full of clouds in the sky. And I bet you can smell wet grass, rain and burnt wood in the air. But I can smell only one thing, and put my lips on Roby's 'cause I'm sure he can smell it too. It's that scent, again. The scent of coffee grounds.

Three nickels

“21. 11. 1992

Dear Santa,
Ill write you early enogh so you can find the time to find the stuff I need.
This year I don't want any presents for me even tough I've been a good girl, but I just need a kimono and a radio, 'cause mama needs them. So I can help her pull out the three nickels shes got on her forehead and we can plant them and grow the nickels tree. Thanx a lot, say hi to the reindeer.
Giorgia Badin.”

“18.02.1993
Dear Santa,
I just wanted say thanx for the kimono and the radio, even tough mama didn't need them, after all. Oh, and while you're at it, say thanx to the Wise Men for the candies, mama liked those!
Giorgia Badin.”
“01.02.2013
From: Giorgia gbadgirl@libero.it
To: Ale; Anna; Babi; Cher; Dani; Ele; Eleuni; Elyb; Elytit; Mary; Nick; Ozzy; Peppe; Rosa; Vero
Obj: B-Daaayyyy!!

Hey guys!
I'm depressed right know, can you believe I'm almost 30??! Still I'm safe for another year :-D! And not the oldest of the gang, uh?! Just kidddin! C'mon Vero, no offense meant!! How about celebrating (or drown our sorrows)?? See ya on the 18th of course, at my daddy's place, OK? If my boss won't change his mind on the V-E-R-Y S-H-O-R-T meeting we're having (he's such a cock), I'd say we meet 9.15 so that MAYBE you, Ely, will make it on time??! Let me know who's coming so I can book the place! Bring whoever you want! See yaaaaaa! Hugs,
Giò

P.S.- This year NO PRESENTS, no kidding!! But you can bring the cake ;-)!”
“18.02.2013

Dear Giugi,
the date on this letter is not -of course- the date it was written, but the day you'll receive it. I didn't choose your 29th birthday by chance. When you're 29, you're often taking stock of your life, making tough choices, tough decisions. Or, as in my case, you suddenly see "game over" on your screen. I'm 29 right now while I'm writing, you're in your room and you're just eight. In my whole life I always did everything in a rush, as if I had known I wasn't allowed to waste my time. But I wouldn't retrace my steps, I don't have any regrets and just few remorses. I started writing because this morning, while touching my forehead, you asked me what those bumps were. Since I couldn't explain, I told you they were three nickels, remember? And that I would have had to go to Heaven, to pull those out and plant the nickels tree. Forgive me for lying to you, forgive me for not being there to see you grow up. See? I'm asking your forgiveness for things not under my control. This is something you should keep in mind: be always sorry and thankful, even for things that don't figure on you or people around you. There are so many things I wish I could teach you, even if I'm not the best person to do that. Take care of your dad, he looks strong but he's fragile inside. I wish I were by your side, when you'll have your first gratifications, and your first disappointments too. Don't beat yourself down, be strong. You're already strong.
You just came and showed me your letter for Santa. You must have heard me and your daddy talking about chemo and radio therapies... I'm so sorry honey, I didn't mean to steal your dreams.
Back to us, what were we talking about? Now that I don't have much time left, I reconsider everything under a different light. Sounds prosaic, but it's true; oh, by the way, the old "when you don't have much time left you do everything you always dreamed about" isn't true. It's bullshit. When you're diagnosed a cancer, you spend every second trying to recover, and you have hardly any energy left. Thus, live now, live every second without a second thought, don't linger on resentment or regret because you really have just one life. And nothing lasts forever. Now that you're young, everything seems to last forever, delights as much as deprivations. It's not like that. Everything -except death- changes more often than you could imagine. The way you'll miss me -that will change; the "endless" love for your first boyfriend -that will change; the disappointment for your first breakup -that will change; the job you hate -that will change; your lease on life -that will change. Don't ever let your life go without your guide, fight to change what's wrong. And don't ever stop fighting just because everybody else goes against you: I fought to get married and give birth to you when I was barely twenty, and now everybody agrees with me. Even your grandma.
Always follow your instinct, even in the worst moments, because I trust it to lead you in the right direction. Remember how the sun rises in the sky: it always wins, against any clouds, it will fight and rise every single day. Do the same, follow your light, rush headlong into every experience, breathing every moment of those. I'm already missing those breaths, those smells and those moments which get out of my hands... but I wish you will feel this nostalgia in a far future, in sixty years at least.
I wish I could write forever, but I don't think I can. Trust yourself, don't trust others too much, and most important don't trust those who promise the world to you. Your dad conquered me with actions, not words. Take care of him, make him proud. Now it's time for me to end this letter. I love you, I know you know it, and I'm not watching you from up above, so do all the crap you want to. If one's value is measured on the mark she leaves on others, when I look at you I'm proud of myself because I'm worth much more than I could ever imagine. Have a nice life, happy birthday Giugi.
Mommy.

PS- In the envelope you'll find three nickels... who knows if they'll still exist, in your future, and maybe they're worth a lot!"

“15.03.2013
From: Giorgia gbadgirl@libero.it
To: Babi
Obj: Done!

Baby, it's done!
I booked the flight... and gave notice!! AAAAHHHH!!! I've never been this impulsive, am I fucking things up, whaddo u say?! I know it's crazy, relying on a letter and all that stuff, but... you know, it's my mother!! She's right, I should live my life! Do you remember when we bungee jumped, that time?! Here, I'm diving with the same recklessness... and we liked that so much! Yes, maybe it will hurt afterwards, but why don't we mention the thrill of the jump??! Oh by the way, I went to have the coins evaluated as you told me: yes, you were right, this coinage is a rare one, they're worth a fortune! But I don't care, I gave them to my daddy because I know he treasured them. Now I must go, I don't want THEM to find out I'm minding my own fucking business while at work, these last days ;-)! Call you tomorrow, hugs!
Giò
P.S.-Would you mind learning how to use that fucking Skype, so I can at least call you once I'm there??!"

Who knows (taste of regret)

Memories are treacherous: you're sure that they're elaborated, rationalized and stored in the back of your mind to explain all your life's events… and then, little removed details suddenly come to light, awaken by the smallest feeling. And so you understand, in that short instant, the reasons of many of your behaviours. Thus, when my seven-year-old daughter insists on making me taste that so-called "strawberry milk", I'm not expecting what's about to happen. It happens that the so-called milk tastes like strawberry chewing-gum. So what?! So much, instead. 'Cause that's the same taste of my first kiss, so long ago. I remembered having thought two things: "Tastes like strawberry" and "that's it?!" But then that beautiful sensation came back to my mind, for a short instant. Having the whole world at my feet. Having all that I wanted. My mind empty, no thoughts. Pure happiness. It lasted just a moment, then and now. And since that day -that evening, I mean- I never dreamed of flying anymore. My analyst told me it's because I'm not able to let myself go. Of course. The bruises of the crash, when you fall, remain, they don't heal. It's called "growing up".
Then there was my first time. My first time tasted like tears. Not because of the pain –not only that, at least- but because it represented freedom. Freedom from taboos, from concerns... concerns of what?! After all these years I can't recall it, but sometimes that taste of freedom comes back to my mind, oh yes.

And then so much water flowed, under the bridges. Bridges of life, death, pain and joy. And then he crossed the bridge. He seemed so far from me that I must have been on a boat. Our affair was a matter of distance and lack, more than normality. That normality which -who knows- could have destroyed us. Our desire was fed by the impossibility of living it -or, who knows, it could have been real love. And after all, "real" depends on those who live it. And we both lived it, but each one in his corner, afraid of the possibility that the whole world could have put us to the test and asked us a reason for being us, and not simply "me" and "you". I insisted on saying that a dream can change the whole world's mind, and persuade it. When you're young you're sooo ingenuous, sometimes. But then maybe -who knows- if you try, maybe the world is ready to be changed by a dream. And then maybe -who knows- we would have fallen upon that normality that scared us so much. All that I know is that, when I hugged him, in that fake friendship's farewell in which each one really wished the other one to find a way that would finally separate us... well, I tasted tears once again. But they didn't taste like freedom, this time. They tasted sour, they were talking about regret. And if I think of us now, and despite everything I look at my normality, that doesn't scare me anymore, since I'm far from him... I can still taste that flavour in my mouth.
And I think, who knows?

No smoking

Every time I used to leave or come back, the "no smoking" writing would welcome me. It was written in enormous letter over the buildings sorrounding the railway station, and it had become the symbol of every trip, ever since. Now that I was coming back to the place I used to call my home, that writing had disappeared.. of course, since the smoking ban was now law, there was no need for it to be written everywhere. The station though was still the same, so grey, smelling bad and with all those faces that here are called "sooo shady" and instead, there where I consider to be my home now, are just faces and nothing else. I was setting foot in Italy for a short weekend, right on the threshold of my endurance to my mother's care, just for a special occasion: ten years from our graduation, to see how much we've grown old and what's happened to That who's not Her boyfriend anymore. The places that I used to know have changed, but not so much. The streets have still holes in the asphalt, people and houses are still asking themselves if we're a village, outskirts or a little town. The air smells like smog. But the date with our past is "downtown", so at least it's troubling for everybody - and that's fair. Our funny chap mate arranged the whole thing, reserving a front-lagoon pizzeria to have the comfort of the landscape, at least. "Downtown" you can smell saltiness, humidity, sewer.. same as always, but in the evening you smell saltiness more than anything, so you feel better and almost think you're on holiday. So here we are, twenty adults who don't know what to do with this meeting, except for buzzing about it the next day, with the only close friend left frome those years. There's the copycat, the never-studying one to whom everybody should always pass the tests but-it's-really-not-fair-'cause-this-is-my-effort-and-you're-taking-advantage-of-it, there's the self-confindent girl damn-English-teacher-wasted-my-high-school-years-but-I-still-have-a-fucking-degree, there's the poser girl from-my-loft-I-can-see-the-London-Eye.. guess what, it's enough to say that you live in London, and you MUST see the london Eye, that big. «Instead I live in Lausanne, and from my loft I can see the lake». It's a joke –of course you can see the lake, you can see it from every house in Lausanne- but He's the only one to get it. Yeah. Of course. He saw it, “the loft”. He was supposed to live with me, in the loft. It was not a must, but it was a plan. At least my plan. Slightly before he planned to tell me "If you love me, stay here". «How are you?» Where do I start from? I'm just like that. I'm looking for something that may not even exist, I'm blaming other people for that happiness that I can't find in what's already there, and that's so much. «I'm fine, and you?» Let me tell you that you look like one whose eyes are full of melancholy and regret. But it could be just my sensation. «Not bad, you know.. the same, you know.» Yeah, the "same" that we used to share day and night, and seemed so worth to me. The same that turned out to be the same, nothing else. So true, the magic vanishes. He's a little fatter, turned a little whiter, he's a little normalized. He's not the man I wanted to marry anymore, I can't recall what I thought was so special about him. Except for the love he felt for me. «How's your job, how do you feel living in Switzerland?» You mean, except for those two lonely months spent crying? And the remaining time healing the wounds, to finally find out that I'm stronger by myself? And those pathetic attempts to hear each other? As if we could really remain friends, after all? «I was sorry not to hear from you again» «I think it was better like that» «Yeah, maybe you're right» Still don't have the guts, uh, even after all those years? I don't know what I'm looking for, but it's certainly not here, tonight. Not in his eyes, not in twenty faces that play no role in my life. And I even ate a better pizza in Lausanne. We stand up, a quick walk by the lagoon, then we greet each other. «Well, take care. Maybe we could hear each other, someday.» Yes, of course. Guaranteed. I walk away, breathe deep the air of what used to be my home and I used to think was my whole world. There was a time when I thought I could stop. Then I understood that maybe those who wanted to love me should have followed me - or wait for me, like John Donne's compass. To go back I get on a plane, to escape faster. I take my seat, fasten my seatbelt, watch the lagoon farther and farther away, I fly over the clouds and let myself be blinded by the sun. Beep. A warning has been switched on. It shows a cigarette with a red cross over it. No smoking. Welcome back home.

One noise, just one

One noise, just one. To sweep this gloomy air away, to heat this night with new life, 'cause night creates ghosts and fears. I was afraid of the dark when I was I little girl too, she thought. It's waiting for those things that we don't see, but we know exist, that scares us. Or -maybe- we're afraid of being alone and listening to ourselves. Too bad, that loneliness. But you have to turn the light on, right? That's how everything turns out right. But it could happen that it lights up only a little part, it could happen that I can't find the switch. That's when fear comes back. One noise, just one, would be enough to make you understand that life goes on around you, to understand that everybody else isn't looking at you. Or maybe is, if that noise is the bogeyman's step, if he's coming to grab you. Shit, I'm freaking out. No good, you must breathe deep Meggie.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.Panting doesn't do any good. It's a friend of silence, and silence brings ghosts and fears along, 'cause it's a night-mate. Oh no, this is no good. I'm sweating.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Neither the moon is brave enough to show herself, what a coward. And I know what "coward" means. Oh God, I know. Well, is there a God somewhere? I would really like to meet him, if he does exist, so that I could congratulate him. He made me perfect. Wealthy family, happy life. Not too many ambitions, way too many illusions. And the dream of love. Why didn't he make me a lesbian? Could have been the same, who knows. Or maybe not. I would have find it out too late, for sure. Another missed opportunity, one more. For her all life, in every damned event of those filthy twentythree years, she had never arrived at the right moment, ever. I was even born too soon, my fate was written. Fate. He's there, beyond everything, he manages everything and decides everything, he never speaks and throws cheap shots. But if you go off to war with him, it's like you're an underdog. And what's worse is that you cannot fly into a rage, this is not left to you either. 'Cause it's not someone's fault. "Fate's fault", you shrug your shoulders and that's all. But I can't beat anybody up, and I can't lean on anything. He must keep the balance, he must keep this crappy world up. That's the reason why he's so constant, he repeats the same old story again and again. It's such a pity that I found myself in the middle of that. If only HE was there, too. That's a record. Five minutes without mentioning HIM.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He's not here and he won't be here. You must do without him. But the pain... you can't do without the pain. And it comes from deep inside, that's where it starts from. And there are no fake tears, no more light memories. Tears are as real as ever, memories are way too heavy. Tears that turn into screams, memories that turn into stones. Your wall is made of stones. But everywhere you turn, there's his smell, his face, his smile. All those things now are gone. And if you try to hug his shadow, you can't grab anything but yourself. But if you can't stand tall, you'll fall over and you will never learn to fly. And everything falls along with you. He's not here, you must do without him. In six months, how many time did I say that? Had I ever understood that. Had I ever learned that. If only... if only what?? If only I was different, but I can't be. I just can't not give a damn about it. As if it wasn't anything. It was everything, that's the fact. The fact is that I never arrive at the right time. If I had arrived before, I would have had him on time. If I had arrived later, maybe he wouldn't have even noticed me. 'Cause he would have already been with her. "Already"? I should say "again". "Her"? "Slut" would be more appropriate. Oh my God. Calm down.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Maybe I was too weak, maybe he was too unsure. I don't know, I can't know. Being at his side all those months, not knowing if he feels the same, if his heart is beating at the right pace. I don't know who would stand that. Having to trust his words, even if the light in his eyes shows a different colour. Your conscience then, it'd better shut up. Or it would tell you, that he's not talking real.
Devastating. It's so tremendously devastating. Suddenly arriving in his life, when they were breaking up. Bad choice, bad timing. Falling in love with him, while he was still thinking of her. Bad choice. Waiting all the time he needed, allowing him enough time to recover. And, in the meantime, falling deeper in love with him. Oh God, why? Why.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.Kissing him, then. And what's worse, believing that that was the solution. Figuring a solution where there's no solution. Believing that a hug, a strong hug could reassure both of you. But his hug is a shy one, his squeeze is not convincing. And you pretend not to see. And you spend your time hoping he will call you, watching TV 'cause if there are interferences, it could be the mobile ready to ring. Damn stupid, they were just interferences. Your mobile is dumb and the silence is a night-mate. And so, you create your ghosts and fears, but who can prevent that? Wonder who he's thinking of. Maybe he's thinking of her, and she's thinking of him. And I'm still here, waiting for interferences. Maybe he doesn't love me anymore, maybe he's thinking about going back to her. And I'm not brave enough to ask him. 'Cause if I turn the light on and I find out the bogeyman for real, then I know it's over. Better be uncertain, 'cause I'm sure he will choose me, at the end. Whatever. Slut. Such a slut. She took him away from me, and he let himself be taken.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I would have made the grade. I would have persuaded him that I was the right one. If only she hadn't come back. Sure, what can you do? After two years with her, six months with me can be thrown in the dump. Together with my whole life. Today it would be our first year. Today, right here. But he's not here, I must do without him. And the pain and the silence clasp my soul, good God how it hurts. He disappeared, soon after telling me he was going back to her. Nasty coward. He surely is an asshole, but I just can't hate him. 'Cause the fate drove him, he loved me. He loved me. And now he's not here. I must do without him. But how can I? How?
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
There must be a reason, for all this. Sure. Such a pity that nobody knows it. Oh, but I'm not waiting for someone to explain it to me -that's for sure. I've got the solution, 'cause he's not here. This night lasts too much. I just have to calm down.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
And close my eyes. And know everything's fine. Know that I'm worth. He used to tell me. But he's not here, and I have to do without him. Goodbye my soul. I used to love him. I still love him. I love you Jack, can you hear me? My darling, can you hear me? Holy God. My God.Bang.
One noise, just one, ripped the night, swept the gloomy air away, woke up the nature. One noise, just one. And just like a call, here he comes as if he heard it. He comes, he sees, he doesn't know.
'Cause if it had to be a goodbye, it would have been a goodbye, but as he wanted it to be. 'Cause "cancer" must not be said, cancer scares, cancer hurts. And she was so close, she had already healed him, from a too long-dragged love. Suddenly bursting into her life, when she was so frail and so delicate. Bad choice, bad timing. And disappearing, when she was deeper in love than ever. Bad choice, even worse maybe. But fate had decided, it had all the power. There had been no choice, nothing else to do. How could you impose also that, on her? How, after imposing on her to be close to you, to be able to stand what everybody else wouldn't have stood, to heal, with her smile, the disillusion of a past love? That smile that teased him, that face that kept on coming back, in the places, in the streets, in the smells and faces of their love, so brief and yet so intense. It would have lasted, one more instant would have been enough to reach eternity. But if pain doesn't leave any way out, disease leaves even less. And that illness, so big, so invisible, had taken possession of him, and life changed. His eyes changed, when he said I Love You, 'cause if this could be the last time, you're almost breathless when you say it. And you're not brave enough to tell her why, why that voice, why that blink. And if you don't say it, the silence will create ghosts and fears for you. Fear of not seeing her again, fear of hurting her, fear of stealing her smile, but her smile is all that's left for you. And fear brings you to drastic decisions. 'Cause she will hate. But rather than hating fate -'cause against him, you're an underdog-, she'd better hate you. She'd better call you a bastard, she'd better have a picture to tear, a pain to yell out, a name to give to that pain. 'Cause maybe, if it's you that will give her that pain, that pain can heal. Maybe. You'd better tell her you're going back to your past, you're going back to the other one, nobody's fault. This last thing, then you're gone. You just can't say who paid more. But you paid a lot. So painful, that hospital room, that white cold wall where her eyes still reflected themselves, and her face in your dreams. Don't know how, you fought thinking of her, hoping she could still be happy. And instead, you recovered. Don't care how, you're out of that. Regressed. Cancer has regressed. And while it's gone, you come back. But not at her's, couldn't be such a bastard. You come back to see one more place that talks about the two of you. The old barn. One year ago a new feeling was born, one year ago a brand new emotion. Memories of her all over the place.
Here he comes, here he goes in, here he sees. And the daylight brings light into him. Here he understands. Here he knows what he did, here he feels where he pushed the limit. Here she is, there, smiling at her mocking fate, while dying. 'Cause one more time, she chose the wrong moment. He's there, she doesn't have to do without him anymore. He's there but it's too late, it's too late when he understands. But the new day brings new light with it, sweeps the gloomy air away and brightens new colours. And as bright as the light, here comes the only choice.
Bang.
One noise, just one, had said goodbye to the night, and one noise, just one, welcomes the day, receives the light and sweeps the darkness away. And finally Jack's heart beats at the same pace as Meggie's. Finally two hearts, but only one beat, only one noise. One noise, just one.

One noise, just one.