I am here

Thursday 

Blind drunk, walking home with Giulia. Talking shit, almost falling over. I don't even realise we're on Alessia's street, walking past Alessia's flat. Walking past my past. 

At home I put on music and pour wine and we drink and drink. Giulia rolls her cigarettes and goes to smoke, and I remain resolute and do not join her. Then at some point, after three, I declare bedtime. 

Giulia asks for one of my shirts, and she joins me in bed. I lie beside her for a while, then eventually we spoon. But it won't go further than this. All the time, I am fighting away the terror, keeping at bay the fear, the sickening horror, the emptiness in the depth of my stomach. The knowledge that I am here, with Giulia, like this, and not here, with Alessia, like we were. 


Friday 

Giulia hangs around all day. I don't know if she's confused or disappointed, but she doesn't let on if so. She seems happy enough, watching shows and talking about the news. She goes into too much detail about the grotesque French rape scandal. She reads tidbits, the most salacious and disturbing parts, and doesn't notice my recoiling. Doesn't know to stop. 

After Giulia leaves, I order food, too hungover to think about making anything. I am pretending everything is okay. But soon enough, under the crushing weight, I buckle and break. I shudder and shake with big heaving tears. 'I don't know if I can be here anymore', I say out loud. To no one but myself. I don't know if I mean this city, or something more sweeping, more drastic. 

I put the dishwasher on. For a moment the churning of the water somehow distracts me from it all. I make a cup of tea. The weak tea they sell here. Why Alessia? I don't understand! I say out loud, to no one. Not even to myself. 

I don't know if I can be here anymore. I have nowhere else to go.