Probably my continuous and apparently far too excessive consumption of alcohol over all of the preceding days were the reason why I had no idea what was going on – in manner of speaking, because actually I knew what had happened. However not because I remembered anything of it but since I twigged it after my head had slightly slowed down spinning. If there had only been the slightest doubt that I had not been the shifter who had left the blinds open I would certainly have spazed out, but, unfortunately, that shiftless sky blue blanket looked too familiar to fool myself into believing that I wasn’t lying in my own bed, so there was no doubt whatsoever about the simple fact that I was responsible for this blinding sunlight which was flaring my bloodshot eyes.
I’d have liked to tell her to go blazes, but as miserable as I had been the weeks before I had to go with the sore truth that beggars can’t be choosers. After all, at least for what I could see of her in between all those flashes in my eyes, she was pretty. Although I heavily tried to find a relevant memory somewhere in a drawer of my inner cabinet, they were all tight and I didn’t even manage to recall talking to her. Quite likely though it had been at Mike’s party, first because arriving there was the last thing I remembered and second because Mick knows a hell of a lot punks and she looked a bit like one with her coloured hair, septum piercing and conspicuous belly tattoo.
After the pain in my eyes had become a bit more bearable I began wishing for her to wake up; my right arm lay under her neck and it felt completely numb. The more I looked at her, the more I wished I could remember the night; maybe I still had too much alcohol in my blood, but to my own surprise I just couldn’t prevent myself from lifting my head and kiss her on the cheek – as if I liked her. I wasn’t sure whether I should hope she remembered the last hours or whether I wanted her to leave. Something about this girl made me feel like hooking up and forgetting it for good would be a wrong decision. Maybe it was just because of the tequila in my system which gave me the illusion of a bad conscience, but perchance there was more to it – though the hammering inside my head prevented me from really thinking about that possibility. Soon she would wake up and most certainly go and I won’t even know what she’s called. I started to give her names: Vera, the truth about last night that I would never know, Lynn, because she was quite beautiful, Nadia, as she somehow made me feel hopeful for the first time in weeks.
I decided to gently wake her up and turned on the radio: they were playing a song by Snow Patrol with disturbingly fitting lyrics: ���If I lay here, if I just lay here / Would you lie with me / And just forget the world?��� It scared me a little to see her open her eyes, but at the same time, surprisingly, I felt excited: I was going to look into her eyes while being sober – well, more or less. I couldn’t figure out why, but my heart was filled with a yearning I had never felt before.
And then, I saw her shining hazel eyes. She had definitely captured me. But she almost immediately tumbled up and went to the bathroom. No, in this growing inanity there was no doubt about her not wanting to savour our moment. Was there any? Suddenly, all that was left of truth, beauty and hope was a sting and an expanding void inside of inanition.
If only my arm were still numb.