Saturday, September 6, 2014

Don't lose your nerve

I've had an hour to calm myself down now, posting this from my phone in a queen-sized hotel bed somewhere in northern Italy. Henry is anxiously looking out the window and in to the parking lot, the yellowish glow from the scattered streetlights makes his skin look a lot like paper.  

The events of this morning seem like an overture, the treacherously vibrating calm at the outskirts of a storm that's building its momentum. Daisy has left her passport out on the kitchen table, I open it and there's her picture next to a name she's never used. Two hours later he comes crashing in like the fall, "we have to go" he says but in to thin air as if he can't see me standing there frozen in the middle of the room.

We drive for hours, all he says to me is to stop texting. "They can track us, maybe, I don't know". A single image is stuck in my mind: that of Elisa dressed in flowingly snow-white chiffon, her hand stretched out as if to catch me and I touch her naked arm with my fingertips before he pushes me in to the car and drives away without ever looking back.

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