athens7 as Jack (font: Courier New)
and mazaher as Patrick (font: Verdana)
3. Needing, wanting, searching
Patrick leaves, Jack goes to Patrick (Jack’s POV)
don’t know for how long I remain seated on that holy spot, my legs
stretched in front of me, the panel a cool blessing against my back and
The ceiling has never felt so foreign and suffocating.
Minutes go by and turn into hours, hours become seconds. And I wait, for
something that does not come.
Eventually I get up, straighten my clothes, try to tidy up the mess we
have made with the cushions and the chairs hampering us in our frantic
rush to the wall.
The door slides shut behind me without a sound and suddenly I am
swallowed by darkness.
The days go by.
The dullness of routine leaves me plenty of time to spend in company of stinging
memories and erratic elucubrations.
I think about the first days of our friendship, when we were students at
I think about how we met for the first time, and how hard it was to
slide underneath his armour. I am still convinced that what kept me
pestering, teasing, begging for every smallest concession, was the
awareness –-so strong to be almost subliminal-– that despite his feigned
exasperation, his sullen retorts, his resentful demeanour, he wanted
my company; he did not know how to ask, that was all. I knew it,
from the few shared smiles, from the silences that stretched comfortably
between us when we were tired, from the glances full of candid curiosity
he couldn’t help sneaking in my direction when he thought I was not paying
He was so used to be ignored as an individual, to be considered a living
legacy without ambitions or desires of his own, that when he found
himself to be the centre of someone else’s attention, he had no idea of
which rules to follow.
In this regard, I fear he will always be an outcast, like me. But while
I, since I was a little child, had to face strangers and learn how to
manipulate the inner contradictions of this society, he simply never knew how to live in the outside
The epiphany almost makes me drop the match I’m using to lighten a
May the Devil crush my soul under his claws. Why did it take me so long
to see it?
There are some things that never change.
He still does not know.
He will never come back to me.
So, I have no other choice. It is up to me to go and find him.
The housemaid was not easy to corrupt (in all these months, she must
have got at least a glimpse of what it means to disregard
Patrick’s direct orders) but after an inordinate amount of compliments
to her family brooch and a couple of sovereigns, I finally know where we
will play our final battle against denial and refusal.
“The Diogenes Club, my man,” I shout to the coachman, as I jump inside
the cab, skipping the iron step.
February has just begun; the brisk evening air tickles my senses and my
Please, wait for me. Just a little longer.
Tearing down the barrier,
one layer at a time