Hi, what follows is the first chapter of my unpublished novel, I'll post more if you like it. Sorry for bad English, I first wrote it in French and Spanish.
I feel good; I want to spend some time with my friends. I ask them if I can join them by Skype for an online drink in Paris. After two hours, here I am, drunk and with an easy laugh, it would be a shame to end the night this way right now. It’s nearly three in the morning; I’m still awake so I go out. I want to keep drinking at the Terra Blues, the only place I like here in Puerto Banus. I love coming here because it’s the only place where rock music is played, I see it as some sort of memories of a golden age now long past. I say « hi » to Russel, the half-naked full tattooed manager holding two drinks in his hands, both for himself of course. I ask for my usual Amaretto glass, and tell him about my sad love story, the fact that my girlfriend dumped me because she was pregnant with her ex-boyfriend. Then he answered: « Bitch! You’re going to write the full script of a ten-episode mini TV show series called Bitch! Each episode would be about a love story which ends badly because of the girl and in the end, zoom on the guy holding a gun in a gangster pose, shoots her right in face and yells Bitch! And then, credits. It’s going to be so huge that even Netflix would want to air it, so you should call it NetBitch! ». I’m trying now to catch my breath between two loud laughing sessions, thanks to Russell’s not-so-stupid idea. He didn’t even care noticing that I still was in my pajamas because he was busy translating to his Swedish friends what he just told me earlier. I see on my left, a dark haired man, with a nice blue flowered shirt, and gold on his wrists. He introduced himself by the name of Tobias, can’t help myself thinking about Oz. « A wingman? » I thought, I asked him what he thought about the women who just got there, he answered that he was more into men. « Or a one night stand! » I immediately jumped on the occasion; I was in the mood for experimentation. It is way simpler with a man, you just need to ask for it and he’ll accept, and no seduction is needed, no schemes, therefore no imagination. It’s almost too bad.
The experiment wasn’t very conclusive in the way that I didn’t felt it completed. I don’t want to renew it; I hoped to explore everything in one session. Dear Tobias was tired and wished to go back home, this is how ended my Colombian escape. As the good gentleman I thrive to be, I wanted to walk him back to the taxi station, with my frustration growing each step we made. Now that he sat down, engines on, I waved at him to say bye, the farther the car was, the more my hand formed the shape of a gun that I was pointing at him. « Bitch! » I thought, imagining myself shooting at him from where I stand.
Then I made the awful mistake of sharing what just happened with my ex-girlfriend. Like some sort of deep grudge I held all this time, poorly guarded and easily unleashed. I didn’t even know what to expect from her at the moment, it was just the expression of my emotional and irrational chaos mixed with alcohol. Maybe it was to show her that I’m actually trying things to move on and get over her. Or not, I admit that I was pretty rude in my choice of words. Was it may be mixed feelings and dark humor in attempt to hurt her in some way? Or some memories of our lost complicity? No matter what were my obscure motivations, in the end I was mean and disgusting.
The day after, I was surprised to see that she wrote my about a dozen of messages, of nearly ten lines each. I try to read carefully, ignoring my headache, and I then learn that it wasn’t her holding the phone at the moment, but her mother . I am so ashamed I wish to die instantly, struck by divine lightning. I then read that she actually never truly loved me, and she still had feelings for her ex while we were together. She also made a list of all the mistakes I made during our relationship, mistakes that I wasn’t even aware of. I’ve never spoke badly about her, but she sure did on my back before making a baby. I long thought I didn’t deserve her, I see more clearly now thanks to her mother’s impulsion. The thing that really bothers me, other than her being dishonest with me, is that why on earth do I hear about all of this only now, by her mother and in these circumstances?
But guess what? I forgive her, because all that matters to me is inner peace, and I simply cannot achieve it without forgiving first. So I sent flowers, as a sign of apologies, congratulations, and thankfulness. I’ve never heard from them since.
« Bitch! » I still thought, imagining the sound of a bullet going through their heads.
