Love, amour, amor. . . has our Mexican anti-hero finally found it? How did the much-anticipated meeting with Juliette go? The weekly episodes of the trials and tribulations of his corazón come to a close today, we need to move on to other things . . . but can he? New readers may want to start with the first M.M. or with Mexican himself!, it’s a long, but good read – pace yourself!
March 8, 2010 9:05 AM
The ache in my chest has gotten worse. At first it felt like small angel punches, bam, bam, bam. These thrusts accelerated, not only speeding up, they became deeper, I was being stabbed every time, not by angels, but by little devils. This was how it felt before Juliette arrived. Now, after, I don’t even know how to express this new feeling.
We’d made a date for last night, 9 pm, same café near her place where we’d met the last time. I thought we could get a drink then maybe go for a little romantic walk. Something had to give tonight, I couldn’t really stand this any longer. I got there a little early, thought I should have a drink to quell me nerves, I didn’t want this to be screwed up by any of my insecurities, besides, I kept having to tell myself that there was no reason why she shouldn’t like me. I didn’t even realize that time had passed until I looked down and saw that my drink was almost empty. It was 9:15 pm, merde where could she be? I resisted ordering another drink and tried to wait patiently, but it was hard.
When she finally arrived around 9:30 pm, she didn’t even apologize for being late. Though when I saw her beauty, I forgot all about that. Man, she’s stunning, I was totally speechless. We stared at each other for a while, I suggested we get some glasses of wine, she nodded and I started making some small talk. She smiled and nodded a lot, yet didn’t really say anything. I was really beginning to wonder if she could speak . . . Then gradually I could tell that she was getting a little uneasy, but I kept talking – then suddenly she blurted out: No French!
Jeez, so she could talk, but what was she trying to say? She got all flustered and started spitting out random words that didn’t make any sense, I really didn’t know what to say, I was also at a loss. She repeated several times in English: Me Kazakh! and I realized that she wasn’t French at all, but from Kazakhstan . . . so that was why she never really spoke. I tried to tell her that it was OK, we didn’t need to talk, that didn’t help she only started crying. I tried to take her hand, and saw she had a ring on her index finger. Was she married? I didn’t have time to ask, because she yanked back her hands and in a split second she kissed me on the cheek and ran out the door.
Merde again! What was I supposed to do? I flung some money down on the table (more than the bill was worth, I didn’t have change, so that hurt) and ran after her. Chasing her down the street, I called out: Juliette attends-moi!! I eventually caught up to her next to her building. I could see the pain in her eyes. She gestured to her hand, aha! I’d got it right, she was married or at least engaged, but to someone here or back home?? There were so many questions left unanswered. I tried to calm her down and communicate, maybe I got a little too close and there was this intense feeling exchanged between us because she blurted out: no désolée . . . sorry . . . this came with a strong push, shoving me out into the street. Headlights coming my way I had to jump out of the way to escape an oncoming garbage truck, a close call, however, when I looked back to find her, she was gone. I sunk down to the curb and cried.
Rejection! I don’t know if my heart has ever ached so much, clenched in my chest, constricted! At first I didn’t know if I should just give up or keep on persevering? It really seems like she has strong feelings for me, yet on the other hand why should I really care, she seems like nothing but trouble. Then again, she captured my heart that first time I saw her. Maybe I really need to go about these things in a completely different way? It’s hard to tell . . . all I know is that I can’t let any other girl get to me like she did . . . I was left completely vulnerable and weak. That’s not like me. Will it be possible for me to forget her and carry on?
I pulled myself up from the curb and looked at my phone. Should I call E. or should I call M.? Instead I wandered. I wandered most of the night, searching for meaning. I will keep seeking it out. I might one day find it.