I met Maddox exactly a week ago. We haven’t seen each other for the past 15 years, since we both graduated from highschool. He used to be the kind of guy that all girls liked, and he liked all and none of them. His special treat was that he would always find a hurt puppy, or cat, or bird, or whatever crawling, flying or walking breathing thing, that had between 0 and 10 legs. We would hang out a lot, because he would always want to fix the hurt creature, and my mom was a vet. Of course at that time I thought that he would find the poor animals on purpose, because he liked my brown eyes and he wanted to hang out more.
The moment when I discovered the truth was very much like this phonecall of his from last week: he called at 11pm, asking in a sugary voice if I liked the fruits he brought me that afternoon. The thing was that we hadn’t seen that afternoon, he just dialled a wrong number. He apologized, I made a small scene, and that was the true beginning of our pragmatical friendship: my mom would cure the animals with no charge, he would do my math homework, and together we would spend a lot of time talking about nonsense. With the first real girlfriend, we lost track of each other and I had no clue what had happened to him until last week.
His voice was shaky. From what I’ve seen in the movies, I could have sworn that he was drunk. We agreed to meet at a coffee shop in the design district. It took me 30 minutes to find it, so naturally I was late, and I was afraid I would not recognize him. What made me meet him after so much time? I guess the fact that I was alone again, piling up the socks of my last boyfriend, getting them ready for the bin. I saw it as a sign somehow - maybe I was high from the humongous amount of chocolate I had ingurgitated. I put my coat on, and I headed to the door, thinking that my brown eyes were a bit more wrinkled now.
Maddox was wearing a white pullover, and green gloves. He almost looked like an eco version of Santa Claus. He greeted me politely. I was expecting hugs, sobs and kisses, but I guess we are too old for that. Maddox sat across from me, ordered a glass of wine and looked me straight in the eye. “Great to see you”, he told me. I tried to echo his words, but just a squeaky sound came out of my mouth. I was ashamed. Maddox put his left gloved hand on top of my hand and said he wants to tell me something. I wanted to ask him why he called me, after so many years, and why on earth we met in the design district. Also, I would have liked him to tell me I looked great. That was the least he could do to compensate all my unanswered questions.
- For the past 6 months, I have been building a house. For my fiancée and me.
- Great, congratulations!
- Actually not me myself. I’m only the architect. It’s quite beautiful. Spacious, huge windows, a small fireplace and a back garden for future kids to play in. There’s a grilling place also, a swing and a hammock. Next to it there’s a small kiosk with books. It’s the kind of house that you see in these latest magazines, that the celebrities have.
- Oh, wonderful!
- Everything is built already. The only thing left now is the outside painting. We couldn’t really agree on the colour from the beginning. I’m the architect, I should know better, but she’s the future wife, and she needs to like it better. Last week we decided to paint it ivory. It was such a beautiful day when we decided to paint it, that I didn’t feel like sitting on the side. I took a ladder, propped it next to the entrance door, and started painting. I could feel the wood taking rapid gulps from the paint in my brush. I wanted to put the paint all over my body, then hug the house and transfer the colour from my clothes to its walls. I wanted to reach to all the small corners, all the hidden pieces of wood that were hoping to get the paint. So I reached. Further and further. Until my ladder slipped and I felt suspended in the air. My hands were grabbing around, for anything that was solid. I don’t know how, my right hand found a rope. For the smallest moment, I was a huge and heavy fly suspended by a tiny spider thread. The next second I was landed on my back, and my right hand was burning. When I looked at it, my fingers were gone. The rope had cut through it, like a plastic knife cuts through butter. Then they took me to the hospital.
- I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say...
- You don’t need to say anything. Do you want to hear something funny?
- Always.
- Last night, when I called you, I actually dialled the wrong number. I realized it too late, just now when I saw you. But since we met, do you know, by any chance, if your mother can get me some of those painkillers?
The moment when I discovered the truth was very much like this phonecall of his from last week: he called at 11pm, asking in a sugary voice if I liked the fruits he brought me that afternoon. The thing was that we hadn’t seen that afternoon, he just dialled a wrong number. He apologized, I made a small scene, and that was the true beginning of our pragmatical friendship: my mom would cure the animals with no charge, he would do my math homework, and together we would spend a lot of time talking about nonsense. With the first real girlfriend, we lost track of each other and I had no clue what had happened to him until last week.
His voice was shaky. From what I’ve seen in the movies, I could have sworn that he was drunk. We agreed to meet at a coffee shop in the design district. It took me 30 minutes to find it, so naturally I was late, and I was afraid I would not recognize him. What made me meet him after so much time? I guess the fact that I was alone again, piling up the socks of my last boyfriend, getting them ready for the bin. I saw it as a sign somehow - maybe I was high from the humongous amount of chocolate I had ingurgitated. I put my coat on, and I headed to the door, thinking that my brown eyes were a bit more wrinkled now.
Maddox was wearing a white pullover, and green gloves. He almost looked like an eco version of Santa Claus. He greeted me politely. I was expecting hugs, sobs and kisses, but I guess we are too old for that. Maddox sat across from me, ordered a glass of wine and looked me straight in the eye. “Great to see you”, he told me. I tried to echo his words, but just a squeaky sound came out of my mouth. I was ashamed. Maddox put his left gloved hand on top of my hand and said he wants to tell me something. I wanted to ask him why he called me, after so many years, and why on earth we met in the design district. Also, I would have liked him to tell me I looked great. That was the least he could do to compensate all my unanswered questions.
- For the past 6 months, I have been building a house. For my fiancée and me.
- Great, congratulations!
- Actually not me myself. I’m only the architect. It’s quite beautiful. Spacious, huge windows, a small fireplace and a back garden for future kids to play in. There’s a grilling place also, a swing and a hammock. Next to it there’s a small kiosk with books. It’s the kind of house that you see in these latest magazines, that the celebrities have.
- Oh, wonderful!
- Everything is built already. The only thing left now is the outside painting. We couldn’t really agree on the colour from the beginning. I’m the architect, I should know better, but she’s the future wife, and she needs to like it better. Last week we decided to paint it ivory. It was such a beautiful day when we decided to paint it, that I didn’t feel like sitting on the side. I took a ladder, propped it next to the entrance door, and started painting. I could feel the wood taking rapid gulps from the paint in my brush. I wanted to put the paint all over my body, then hug the house and transfer the colour from my clothes to its walls. I wanted to reach to all the small corners, all the hidden pieces of wood that were hoping to get the paint. So I reached. Further and further. Until my ladder slipped and I felt suspended in the air. My hands were grabbing around, for anything that was solid. I don’t know how, my right hand found a rope. For the smallest moment, I was a huge and heavy fly suspended by a tiny spider thread. The next second I was landed on my back, and my right hand was burning. When I looked at it, my fingers were gone. The rope had cut through it, like a plastic knife cuts through butter. Then they took me to the hospital.
- I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say...
- You don’t need to say anything. Do you want to hear something funny?
- Always.
- Last night, when I called you, I actually dialled the wrong number. I realized it too late, just now when I saw you. But since we met, do you know, by any chance, if your mother can get me some of those painkillers?
2 comentarii:
:)) Oh, I thought only girls took advantage of guys like that. Does it really happen the other way around, too?
:) Apparently it does.
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