Italy I
She looked at me with a very vulnerable stare. We were never close but we worked together in the same club as for 4 or 5 years. She know me as a fun gal, always a bit too outrageous - a wild, but healthy girl as another girl put it - and as the always dancing firestarter.
I knew her as the quiet wholesome-pretty cashier, the long-time girlfriend of one of the PRs.
Now she looked the shadow of herself, dark circles round her eyes and shabby hair. Must have lost a few pounds as well.
I told my story of coming back to Denmark once again. About leaving an attractive job in the advertising business, about starting all over again after more than 18 years in Italy, about leaving, also to try my luck with a Danish boyfriend and about the baddest breakup ever. I made the story short (we were small-talking in the ever-busy same club, after all) and as I said; we were never close at all, I choose whom I show my vulnerability to.
When I got to the part about breaking up, she got all soft in the eyes, and seemed to search for something in *my eyes*, I sensed something was coming.
I hesitated a bit and she picked up, it was as if something broke in her, and she let go; she had left T as well, a few months ago, after 7 years together. She was seeing a psychologist to try to atone for the guilt she felt, that even with a love like that it still wasn't enough for her. I felt she recognized herself in me, and clung to a hope to survive this pain she was going through.
I felt so tender and grateful that she spoke to me. We spoke for an hour, there in the middle of the club, bass pumping and people crushing against us. She let me try and comfort her, try and let on some of the things I have learned, all nuance and no sharp contrasts, truths that may not even work for her. But her hungry stare was so heartbreaking and I just wish I could have said something to comfort her. We parted with a big hug, having recognized something in each other, something vulnerable and human.
Later, the biggest bouncer ever, F, pulled me away from the crowd, he wanted to talk to me.
We had been hugging, yelling, punching each other jokingly on the shoulders, calling each other all the stupid names we invented, years back, while tipsy and happy. We were friends back then, good times, we saw each other every weekend from May to September and then we would text back and forth during the winter.
Now he looked at me with a sheepish grin and said
"I'm afraid, K, I'm about to become a father and I don't know if I'm ready, I don't know how to do it."
I didn't know what to tell him and I told him so much. I'm not as arrogant as to know what it means to become a parent, and not as condescendent and superficial, as to tell him clichè "you'll be ok, you're a fine guy".
In the end I told him that nobody gets to try it out, one day you're you, the next day you're a father, you just have to try your best.
He looked almost disappointed and then laughed a bit "yeah, well, you don't know either, do you ?".
I punched his shoulder.
I knew her as the quiet wholesome-pretty cashier, the long-time girlfriend of one of the PRs.
Now she looked the shadow of herself, dark circles round her eyes and shabby hair. Must have lost a few pounds as well.
I told my story of coming back to Denmark once again. About leaving an attractive job in the advertising business, about starting all over again after more than 18 years in Italy, about leaving, also to try my luck with a Danish boyfriend and about the baddest breakup ever. I made the story short (we were small-talking in the ever-busy same club, after all) and as I said; we were never close at all, I choose whom I show my vulnerability to.
When I got to the part about breaking up, she got all soft in the eyes, and seemed to search for something in *my eyes*, I sensed something was coming.
I hesitated a bit and she picked up, it was as if something broke in her, and she let go; she had left T as well, a few months ago, after 7 years together. She was seeing a psychologist to try to atone for the guilt she felt, that even with a love like that it still wasn't enough for her. I felt she recognized herself in me, and clung to a hope to survive this pain she was going through.
I felt so tender and grateful that she spoke to me. We spoke for an hour, there in the middle of the club, bass pumping and people crushing against us. She let me try and comfort her, try and let on some of the things I have learned, all nuance and no sharp contrasts, truths that may not even work for her. But her hungry stare was so heartbreaking and I just wish I could have said something to comfort her. We parted with a big hug, having recognized something in each other, something vulnerable and human.
Later, the biggest bouncer ever, F, pulled me away from the crowd, he wanted to talk to me.
We had been hugging, yelling, punching each other jokingly on the shoulders, calling each other all the stupid names we invented, years back, while tipsy and happy. We were friends back then, good times, we saw each other every weekend from May to September and then we would text back and forth during the winter.
Now he looked at me with a sheepish grin and said
"I'm afraid, K, I'm about to become a father and I don't know if I'm ready, I don't know how to do it."
I didn't know what to tell him and I told him so much. I'm not as arrogant as to know what it means to become a parent, and not as condescendent and superficial, as to tell him clichè "you'll be ok, you're a fine guy".
In the end I told him that nobody gets to try it out, one day you're you, the next day you're a father, you just have to try your best.
He looked almost disappointed and then laughed a bit "yeah, well, you don't know either, do you ?".
I punched his shoulder.
Comments
R.M.
:-)
Sono contenta per te, se è tutto solo un ricordo sbiadito. Per me non lo è. Sono andata (la settimana scorsa) a mangiare al Peo, e custodisco gelosamente i miei Rayban scheggiati; mi servono da ricordo ed avvertimento.
Amici non lo eravamo nemmeno allora; non vedo cosa possiamo avere in commune ora. Dopotutto; l'ultima volta che ti sei fatto sentire, era con una foto e link pescato in Internet e mandato da eterno vigliacco anonimo.
=) anche a te.
T