"In a world of moral constraint, donning the costume of the tempting demon can be a form of civility"
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22Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrRcrUFVTDY
— Magic isn't real. I said as I watched the big white bird return to the man's shoulder.
— You have to believe it or you're doomed. Whispers a voice behind my back.I turn round to face a tall figure in a cloak, his face completely hidden.
— I don't believe in God or magic. I shouted as I made my way out of the park, ignoring this enigmatic stranger.
— That's the problem. The voice is following me.
— What the fuck do you want from me? I stop, standing in front of the man. His face still unapproachable.
— Your faith is wavering, you're on the verge of slipping, Xiona.
Surprised, I tilted my head slightly to one side, gauging whether the man standing a few metres away from me was dangerous.
— How do you know my name?
— A lot of people know who you are.
— What the hell are you talking about? Furious with impatience, I had to know in order to leave the town of Puento or not.
The man turns around and by the time I turn my head for a second, to check that no threats are coming from the sides or behind my back, he's gone in the blink of an eye, literally.
My blood was boiling, bringing with it a heartbeat that was far too fast. My eyes scan the crowd in the distance, families, groups of friends, children and the people who were walking their dogs earlier, moving further and further away, going about their business, which I imagine to be uninteresting.I look for the man with my eyes, but to no avail, my feet anchored to the grey cobblestone floor where a few sprigs of grass and a few daisies manage to grow, at least before they wither.
Tetanised, I keep repeating the words of the man whose face I haven't been able to see. Somehow I tell myself that the feeling I have of being followed is real. There are several scenarios, some plausible, others seeming impossible. Was this the man who had been following me to my front door? Is it possible that I know him? How did he know me? Should I run away?I replay the sound of footsteps in the dark behind me, light strides, sometimes far away and sometimes far too close, leaving no shadow at all.
For fuck's sake... I've got to pull myself together. The resilience I've developed over the last few years allows me to lift my right leg, with difficulty, as if it weighed two hundred and fifty kilos, in order to take that first stride. My ears are ringing, I can hardly hear anything around me, but when I put my left foot on the ground, a pain and a noise wake me up from my psychosis. A good slap, I admit.Facing me is a tall woman with long, blonde, ringed hair, traces of mascara under her reddened eyes, dressed in a short leather skirt. Behind her, the little princess hides.
I'm relieved to be out of my mental prison, even if it costs me a swollen cheek scarred by the shape of that bloody woman's slender fingers.
They leave without waiting for the slightest reaction from me. The 12 centimetre high heels clatter on the stones of the square and the girl's hair flies in unison with her little victory hops.
The crowd dispersed and in no time the park was completely empty. I find myself alone in the centre of the square, lost in a universe over which I have no control.Shit, I need a coffee, three of them.
I leave the park and head for Léon's café.
12h43 -
I place my hand gently on my hungry stomach. In front of the shop window, I read the handwritten menu of the day, posted outside on a slate board, and my eyes jump to a particular sandwich. I enter, the sound of voices and customers laughing fills the space, while the smell of cakes, food and coffee permeates the air.
It's quite unusual to see so many people here. Léon's smile widens with each customer who approaches the counter. I can't wait to see what his relapse will be like. Having achieved a goal, an objective, is exhilarating, but the moment when the soufflé comes down is electrifying, powerful and oppressive.
Busy cleaning a glass and serving customers, he looks up as I approach.
— Ah... Hi Xiona. His gaze stops on my cheek, still a little red, and he swallows, making his Adam's apple twitch.
— Everything all right, Xiona?
I answer with a simple thumbs up.
— What can I get you?
— A club sandwich and a triple espresso.
He puts the order on a tray and hands it to me, a broad smile stretching across his face, but it seems to me that his dark circles are much more pronounced than usual, which makes him look more normal. Less so, Prince Charming.
I take a seat at the back of the room, near the window as usual, where a table is still available despite the full coffee.
— I wonder what he's doing now. I say aloud, without realising it.
— Who is he?
I look up, almost choking on my first bite of the sandwich. Ian sits down opposite me, resting his little buttocks on the chair available. He's wearing a dark grey suit, a white shirt and shiny black shoes, a transport cup with smoke coming out of it and the smell of coffee. My gaze lingers a little too long on his fingers around the cup, I'd never realised he had such beautiful hands.I turn my head towards the window and stare out, trying not to look at him.
— Oh, come on, you don't recognise me?
— I think I'd remember a guy wearing that kind of carnival outfit in the middle of the day. I quipped without looking at him.
— I'm not the sort of person who wears that sort of thing, but I'm going to do it more often, given the look on your face when you were checking me out.
— Are you taking the piss? I grumbled, outraged.
— No, you're not.
— What's on your mind?
— I don't want anything.
— So fuck off, did you follow me here or what? I questioned him again.
— Of course not, it's a coincidence, I was looking for a nice place to have a coffee not far from where I was and I found this place recently trending on Instagram.
— So stop pissing me off now you've had your coffee and get out of here.
— But it's fun.
— Don't play dumb with me.
— I'm not.
— I'll kill you, I swear I'll kill you. I growled, clenching my fists, my knuckles turning a little whiter by the second.
— No, you won't.
— How can you be so sure?
— You don't look it.I don't know what else to say, he's got me.
So I grab the piece of lettuce sticking out of my sandwich, pull on it to get the lettuce leaf out and throw it in his face. I expect him to get angry, but his velvet laugh surprises me. This guy really is nuts.
— Why do you hate me so much, sweetheart? he laughs, grabbing the piece of salad stuck to his cheek.
— Don't fucking call me that. It's disgusting.
I sighed, tossing my long hair behind my back so I could finally get a proper taste of that sandwich. I'd hoped to be able to relax, but obviously he'd decided otherwise today.
— But you are.Either I'm dreaming or he's trying to flatter me, flirt with me, win me over...
It's not working, it's really not working.
— So fuck off!
— It's true, I tell you. He sings like a kindergarten child, teasing the girl he secretly loves.
— What's the big deal? I'm not interested. I barked defensively.
— You're lying! he throws at me in an amused tone. Your heart's beating faster than before.
I look down at my rapidly rising chest. I stare him straight in the eye and gasp in exhaustion.
— It doesn't mean a thing.
— It means everything.
— It means anything.
— You're lying to yourself, it's ugly.
— Lying to me about what? I hissed through clenched teeth.
— About getting to know me.
— You're getting too involved.
— I'm just curious.
— Curious about what?
— Everything.
— Everything?
— Yes, everything.
— You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. We're not friends, you're just a stranger who lives in the same building as me. That's where it ends.
— So you want to be more than friends.
I choke on my sip of coffee, I have the feeling that when I'm around him, this happens to me a lot.
— What did you just say?
— You heard me.
— Get your fucking ass out of here before I throw my scalding hot coffee in your dog face and disfigure you.
— Come on, it was a joke. A joke!
A silence falls gently between us.I put my head down, holding my head in my hands, the migraine still pounding in my skull.
He gets up and, before leaving the café, he leans towards me. My body stiffens as his warm, coffee-scented breath tickles my right ear.
— The manager hasn't taken his eyes off us, he probably thinks I'm your boyfriend.
I push him away violently, anyone would have tripped and fallen backwards, but not him, no, he's standing up straight.
— Tonight. 9.30. he says confidently.
— In your dreams. I mumbled before taking a good sip of coffee. I eat without any further ado. I look at the people crowding round outside and try to imagine how unhappy they all are.
The hours pass without me realising it and in a few minutes the queue at the counter has evaporated, the tables are cleared and Léon approaches my table to clear my tray.
— Do you need anything else?
— No, I'll be off.
— Thanks for bringing your...
He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before I cut him off.
— Neighbour! He's my neighbour. I exclaimed hastily, afraid he'd say something else.
I suddenly stand up and head for the exit. He gives me a much lighter smile than when I arrived.
— Goodbye Xiona, come back soon.
It's mid-afternoon, most people are at work, and it won't be long before they finish for the day. I walk for long hours, strolling through the narrow streets of the city, my mind empty of all thought. When I arrived in the centre of town, I passed a shop window where men's suits were on display to lure in all the pretend rich people in the area.Ian was wearing this kind of suit today.
I bite the inside of my lip, remembering his build under the layers of clothes.I need a drink after all the crazy things that have happened. Mr Psycho doesn't know what he's getting himself into, but fine, 9.30 tonight.
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