50. MAGDALEN
50
MAGDALEN
I don’t dream tonight. Too loose-limbed and happy. Around 4 a.m., I hear a loud crash and my eyes fly open. Disoriented for a moment, I look around the dark room to see I’m still in Theo’s bed, but when I turn my body he’s not next to me. Letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, I notice the imprint of his body isn’t even on the mattress any more, making me think he left some time ago. For some reason, the happiness from the night tries to drain away, but I sit up quickly, desperate to keep it in, rationalizing my absurdity. We fell asleep laughing , I remind myself. We fell asleep laughing.
But, when minutes pass and he doesn’t come back, I scramble to get out of bed and go back to my room, the feeling that I’m an intruder in his space growing stronger the longer I sit here. I put on my underwear, buckle my overalls and walk to the bedroom door, when I hear Lucia. I pause, checking the clock again to be certain it’s 4 a.m. It is. And Lucia speaks again. Who is she talking to? I can’t hear anyone else’s voice, but I think of the bed again, cold and devoid of Theo, my stomach sinking.
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ I whisper to myself. Needing to hear the words out loud. He went to the bathroom, maybe ran into Lucia, who also needed the bathroom. Perhaps they’re exchanging sleepy pleasantries at this very moment.
‘You can go first,’ Lucia is saying.
‘Thanks,’ Theo replies.
I don’t think about the fact that Lucia’s room is downstairs with her own ensuite. And that there’s also the hall bathroom across from the kitchen. These things happen. Maybe the plumbing is broken downstairs, or all the toilet paper has been stolen by the neighbours. I stay behind the door for another few minutes and then I hear it. Theo clears his throat. The door is too thick for me to make out any words but, when I wait another few seconds and hear Lucia sigh, I know with a sad certainty that there were never any sleepy pleasantries. I focus on getting out of the room. On the feeling of my hand on the doorknob, twisting it until the stiff lock leaves the keyhole. When I open the door, I peer into the hallway and frown. No one’s here. I step out fully, digging my feet into the carpeted floor, and pause again, waiting to see if they’re still somewhere I missed. A few minutes go by, and no one makes a sound, so I decide it’s safe to go back to my blue bedroom. Now I understand why I was given this room. It was a precaution. Theo’s way of patting my shoulder and giving me a space for when it all inevitably fell apart. He knew. Of course, a genius always plans ahead.
I sprint quietly down the hall and open the door when something in the corner of my eye moves. My heart leaps and I take one step in. I could just not look. I could go into my room, close the door behind me and pretend I needed to start packing. But the feeling of something wrong nags at me. I turn my head slightly and the object on the ground looks like an elbow. I take a cautious step back from my door, making sure I’m hidden by the table in the centre of the hallway, and peer over it. And that’s when I see them. Theo and Lucia, sitting on the top step of the stairs. One of his elbows is leaning on the floor, and the other hand is on her knee. He gives Lucia a gentle squeeze and keeps his hand resting on her. It looks tender and intimate. The corners of my mouth begin to drag down, and I know I’m on the verge of tears. There’s no time to process what they could be speaking about. To rationalize. I just feel cold and naive. To think I could have held his attention! Before I leave them, I notice on the step where their feet are resting, an empty wine bottle has broken. Ah, I understand. They were drinking wine. He woke up to drink wine with Lucia and it dropped and smashed on the stairs.
I lock the door, feeling cold. The open luggage sits in the corner of my room, the lingerie scattered on top. How cruel. Do I crave being hurt? I must have known this would happen.
My teeth start chattering and I will myself to get it together, but the coldness seems to have washed over my brain, my hands. The bed seems so far away and that smell comes back again. Oil sizzling on skin. I try to cover my nose, my mouth, but my hands are too cold to move so I sink to the floor. I press my head into the ground and try to breathe but the smell follows me. It’s trapped inside the carpet, penetrating me, and because I can’t move, I start gagging. Freak! Amid this, another image comes to mind. Maio silently taking the empty beer bottles from Lucia. Another wave of nausea hits me, and I think about having to tell him about Lucia and Theo.
This hasn’t happened since last year. It’s odd to be conscious of your mind disconnecting from your body while it’s happening. So I do what I did then. I say my prayer between the choked breaths. My eyes, my ears, my mouth, my heart. I gag again but as the words spill from my throat, my head feels lighter and I roll over so I am lying on my back. My whole being without reserve. My hand rests on my face and it’s only then that I feel the tears, warm and wet down my cheeks. I breathe out. The smell lessens. Guard me, as your property and possession.
I am so small compared to this universe, curled in this tight ball on the floor of a villa in Alassio. The smell is gone. Amen. I should be grateful it stopped when it did, I remind myself. People have it much worse. I say another prayer for them, before everything goes dark.