Murderer

   I stepped in the boat and sat inside. It was not a big space and it all smell like fish but, given the circumstances, I didn’t thought I should say or do anything about those two things. Little things, might I add, compared to the situation at hand. Onboard came the man that had been pointing at me with his gun all along but then the other one, the one that seemed less likely to shoot at any given opportunity, told him to step out of there and let him do it. There was no one else that could help me and it was too dark too distinguish anything more than the water, the boat and the armed man that had stepped out and disappeared.

 The man I was with had turned the engine and we were traveling fast. The sea was calm and there seemed to be no fishing boats or ferries that could see us. It was almost as if it was meant to be that way and, of course for me, that wasn’t so good.

 After what seemed liked an hour of journey into the open sea, the man stopped the engine and looked straight at my eyes. It was unsettling, as he was one of those people with very bright eyes that make you feel uncomfortable when you look directly at them. I had always wondered if they knew they made people feel that uneasy.

-       Did you really do it?

 There it was. It had been obvious; from the moment they had kidnapped me in my home that he wanted to ask that question so bad. Right then, he seemed eager to know the truth behind all of this, probably the truth about why he was with me right in the middle of the ocean, where no one will ever hear us talk or say the most amazing of truths. I could almost tell he was sweating, the stains beneath his armpits growing, his upper lip trembling at my sight.

-       What is that I apparently did?

 The man snored a bit, smile and kind of laughing. He was nervous. It was so obvious: his hand trembled when he wiped off his sweat and his smile wasn’t the one of a man that feels safe or sure about anything anymore. Maybe, after all, the wrong man had stepped in the boat with me.

-       We were hired.

-       I assumed as much

-       You killed a family.

-       Yes.

 The man seemed to tremble once more, due to my “confession”. To be honest, I’ve never really hidden anything about what I’ve done. I’ve made my peace with it all, specially then, when I seemed so close to death. Why lie to him when he was obviously so eager to know the truth, so eager to think he knew or that he understood what his task was all about.

-       And you say it like that? So… So cool and casual? Are you crazy?

-     I’m not mentally unstable, although the fact that I’ve killed makes me very likely to have one of those fancy disorders every murderer seems to have these days.

-       How many more?

 I couldn’t contain a smirk when he asked this. Not only because I knew it would make him tremble again, but also because people were always like that, wanting the morbid little details of how I had done something or the other. It was so typical of every single person in the world to apparently feel disgusted and scared but deep down, been utterly interested in what I had to say about all the corpses I’ve created. They sometimes seem even more interested that I was when I did what I did.

-       I don’t know. I’d rather not count.

-       The people that hired told me you raped their…

-       No. That’s not true.

 The man appeared to want to leap over me but he contained himself. Apparently he thought that I was denying the truth and that made him even more frustrated and confused but the truth was, and still is, that I never raped anyone. I’ve heard the stories, on the news and so on. They said I was ruthless but then they began to say I raped people and that’s just incorrect. If I had any more feelings I would be hurt.

-       They said…

-       You trust too much on your clients. Never thought for a second they could be lying?

-       I talked with them and…

-     Oh yes, because people are incapable of lying when they hire a hitman. Is that what you are because you seem pretty bad at this?

 There. Shaking like a leaf. I know he’s scared of me, thinking I’m some kind of animal, a beast that has to be put down. But the fun thing is that he knows or feels he cannot contain me for long and, most curiously, he seems to think I’m not guilty of this all. Because, why else would he be asking all these questions? Then again, it might be only that he’s fucking scared and he’s just stalling, avoiding the killing.

-       Are you going to kill me anytime soon?

-       Shut up.

-       It was you who began the interrogation.

 The man seemed to be thinking. I bet he was trying to decide what to do next. Maybe he thought that I might be more valuable dead than alive. The police were looking for me, that’s for sure, and I had a reward sign on my head. Apparently he wasn’t as stupid as he looked, thinking of the best way to profit properly from this assignment. He could even surrender me to the police and collect the money all by himself, leaving the other idiot to mend for himself, thinking I was dead.

-       You killed many people.

-       I know.

-       And you don’t regret it?

-       No. Why should I?

-       You’re not sorry? Not even for one of those murders?

 I looked at him carefully, trying to decide what to say. There was something more in all of this, something that had eluded me from the start. The moment they had taken me from my home it had been all about the other guy, the tall one. He had threatened me, put a bag on my head, and pointed the gun straight to my heart. This guy I was with had only driven us to the dock and then had decided to kill me, at the very last minute. And then, it became clear.

-       Don’t tell me that I killed your wife or brother?

 The man went crazy when I said those words. He threw himself at me and started punching me all over: on the face, the chest, the stomach and the head. My hands were still tight behind my back so there wasn’t much I could do except moving violently, in order not only to drive him away but also to make the boat turn sideways to escape swimming. He couldn’t chase me through the ocean.

 But nothing of the sort happened. He just stopped beating the fuck outta me and decided to breath heavily, as far as he could from me. It hurt; I’m not going to say it didn’t. But there was no damage that he could do that would really hurt me. I was beyond all of that at that point. He could have stabbed me and I wouldn’t have cared at all. My lips were cracked, bleeding and all my body was numb from his punches but I wasn’t bad enough to look at him from my corners and smile.

-       Predictable.

-       Shut up…

-    You know, even if you do kill me, nothing is going to bring anyone back? It won’t happen.

-       Shut up!

-       The dead are done. Believe me, I know.

 Then, the guy pulled out the gun and pointed at me. He no longer trembled but he was still sweaty and his eyes were wide open, as if he wanted to be sure of what he was doing. I cleaned my face a bit from my blood without breaking the link between our eyes. Maybe he was going to kill me, maybe this was it for me but it didn’t matter. He was one more of my victims and that was enough for me. So I laughed.

 The bullet pierced right through my brain, coming out the other end and falling in the water. The man pushed my body to the water and left. He knew my body was going to be found and that everyone would know a murderer was now dead. And no one would be interested in knowing who killed me because I deserved it. But, in the end, I knew that just before the end he had been mine and that was all worth it.

A small issue

   Amanda just laughed. She stopped fast but her answer to Melinda’s problem was not precisely the one she needed. Yes, she wanted to laugh too but she couldn’t as it concerned and it was a subject she considered deeply important. The waitress came with one big cup of ice cream and a glass of water, both for Melinda. She started eating right away, trying to avoid thinking in nothing else than in the different flavors of her sundae. Amanda just looked at her, worried but still with a smirk on her face.

-       Just tell me again, and let’s see what I can do for your. Really.

 Melinda just looked at her, still eating. After all, she had called Amanda to tell know her point of view of the matter and to see if she had some advice, although she didn’t know if advice had anything to do in this kind of situation. She raised her head and was about to talk but didn’t know where to begin. She had some water and then started, almost reciting was had happened days before.

 She had met the guy at a party made by one of her coworkers. It was a birthday. Melinda reminded Amanda that she had invited to go. Amanda nodded but did not say anything else, in order to let her friend tell all without interruptions. Melinda kept on, telling that she had some drinks at the party and eventually ended up meeting Dave, a friend of the guy they were having the party for.

 At first she didn’t really acknowledge his advances, because he was really been insisting, but after two more glasses of wine he began to be less annoying. They talked about work, about their favorite TV shows and the music they loved. When time come to leave the party, that had died out due to people being mostly drunk, Melinda left with Dave and then had a great night. They ate hotdogs, strolled through town remembering their past lovers and, finally, they arrived at her place. Without doubting, she asked Dave to come in with her.

 At this point, Melinda stopped talking and ate a big scoop of ice cream. Amanda just looked at her, now with what looked like pity, and waited for her friend to stop eating and keep talking. But Melinda has a second scoop of desert, as she found it difficult to keep talking. Finally, after a sip of water, she went on.

 She had been drinking too much and yes; they had sex on her bedroom. It was very strange because she did not have a huge hangover the day after but, somehow, she didn’t remember anything. She knew she had had sex with Dave but did not remember anything about it. When she woke up, thankfully, he was getting dressed up and told her he had to leave because he had something to do with his family. Half asleep, she said bye and went back to her pillow.

 This time Amanda decided to interrupt. She did this because she thought that first time was the only one Melinda had met Dave. She thought the story was about a one-night stand. But Melinda, after finishing her ice cream, told her friend that they had seen each other once more, about a week ago.

 It was him who called and asked her out on a date. Having nothing else to do that weekend, she had agreed to see him. Amanda asked why she had said yes but Melinda went on, remembering how she had dressed casually for their dinner. It was in a nice restaurant but she had no intention of dressing up for a guy she barely remembered. Nevertheless, she had to confess, they had a great time. The man was very charming and had many tales that were really interesting.

 They talked and talked for hours until it was late and, this time, it was him who asked her to go to his house to have something to drink and keep talking. She realized she hadn’t really gone out with anyone for a long time and Dave seemed like a very nice person. He was interesting and enjoyable and he wasn’t bad looking at all. So she agreed to go to his house. There, he had a very nice bottle of wine and she had one of the most funny and interesting conversations she had had in recent memory.

 Amanda then interrupted her friend, once more, to ask what Dave looked like. Melinda told her friend that he was about her size, so not very tall. He had blue eyes, which was largely uncommon in the guys she had liked, and he had nice short hair, not styled in stupid fashions like most men were using it today. That day he had wore very nice clothes, with a tie and everything. She had left a little guilty not to wear a nice dress.

 She asked for a glass of wine and went on with her story. They had been drinking and talking for several hours until he planted a kiss on her and she responded by pushing him and kissing him on the sofa, almost entirely on top of him. This was followed by both of them standing up, still kissing, and getting into his room. She landed first on the bed and then he leaned closer. It was very arousing, she confessed. But then it happened.

 She had never been one for touching or grabbing but that night she had felt especially bold. So she went for it and realized something was vey particular. She decided not to think about it and then proceeded to remove her blouse and he took off his shirt. It was very hot and they kept kissing until she unzipped his pants. It happened all so fast, she barely remembered everything accurately. The point was she was at home like thirty minutes later, not even waiting in the apartment for the taxi but choosing to wait for it in the building’s hall.

 Amanda was now smiling in a silly way again. Melinda hid her face behind her hands and said again what she had told her friend, almost upon arrival:

-       He had a small penis.

 It had the same effect on Amanda, who burst into laughter and even cried a bit because of her reaction. This time, however, even Melinda smiled a bit. She knew the situation was silly but she still felt betrayed, if that was the proper word. Days after, she remembered everything and she knew she hadn’t responded in the right way but, apparently, Melinda put too much attention to those details.

 Amanda then told her it wasn’t a bad thing, although her response had been just disastrous. She thought Dave was surely ashamed and affected by it all afterwards and men took really seriously the attempts against their manhood. She then proceed to ask how “bad” it was, and she said it just looked small, like… Amanda didn’t really know what she said, because she said it under her breath, but it wasn’t important.

-       Do you like him?

-       Well… Yeah, I guess.

-       No. Do you like him? Be sure!

-       Yeah, I do. His really nice.

-       And is his… - Amanda looked around – size, so important?

 Melinda didn’t answer right away. She didn’t wanted to sound shallow but it was true that most men she had dated had been well endowed and she know realized maybe that had been a conscious decision. But before she said anything, Amanda kept talking.

-       If it is, just call him and apologize. He doesn’t deserve what you did. And if it really isn’t, apologize too and try to give yourself a chance. Who know, he may be exactly who you need in your life.

 As it happens, Dave wasn’t the man of her dreams or nothing of the sort. She went up to his house and apologized in person. He was glad that she had come. They didn’t discussed anything of what happened but talked about other subject and realized hey could be very good friends.

 Maybe she was shallow after all or, maybe, sex was too important for her to be overlooked. Anyway, she promised herself never turn down anyone because of her personal preferences. It just wasn’t the decent thing to do.

Look again

 - Just dump him.

She looked at her friend really confident of herself, almost defying.

 - It's not that easy.

 - Yes it is. He cheated, didn't he? That's what you have to do.

 - But what if...

 - What if what? He didn't meant to fuck someone else? Honey, wake up. Men are trash. Why do you     think I repel all those crazies?

 - We have been together for two years now.

 - Great. Remind him of that while you dump him.

 - It's not that easy. We have shared so many things and I don't know if ending it just like that is the        right solution.

Her friend sighed and drank a sip of her coffee. She raised her hand and asked the waiter to bring another slice of pineapple cheesecake.

 - So, what other solution is there?

 - Well, he looked for someone else didn't he? Maybe I failed to...

 - You failed? Let me ask you: have you fucked someone behind his back?

 - No.

 - Then you haven't failed. There are things bound not to work and that's fine but you have to speak         up and say "I don't like this" o "I don't like that". Going behind everyone's back like that says a lot       about him.

 - You're talking about him as if you didn't knew him, as if you hadn't laughed at his jokes or enjoyed      all the parties at his house.

 - That doesn't have anything to do with this. Yes, I enjoyed that all but he had a responsibility with         you, like a contract if you will. He committed to respect you no matter what and he didn't.

The waiter comes with the cheesecake. She asks the other girl if she wants something. She asks for another cappuccino.

 - I know you're right. But what should I do? I love him. I hate him for what he did but I love him          more than that.

 - Look, I don't know it all, that is true. Maybe you are more of a compassionate being that me and        you can forgive him and make him a good person or whatever. But I strongly believe people don't      just change. People only discover things inside that they have had all their lives but it's not like            evolution unfolding before your eyes.

 - So, according to you, I should just dump him?

 - Yes. It would hurt like a bitch but, believe me, that pain is much better than trying and trying and    failing where you knew you'd fail.

The girl with the problem holds her friends hands and smile at her.

 - I think I'll have to think about it but thank you so much for this. Really.

The friends smiles at her and then hey change the subject, to a happier one.

*        *        * 

A week later, the two friends reunite again. The one with the cheating boyfriends arrives first and, a few minutes later, her friend sits in front of her. She doesn't say much as she knows her friend should be the first to speak.

 - There's a lot to say.

 - No surprise there.

 - Actually, there kind of is...

 - What do you mean?

 - Remember when I told you I had caught him? In his house?

 - Yeah, you had the key in. You told me you were there to surprise him with a gift you found for           him. But when you entered his room, he was naked having sex with a girl. The girl covered herself     and you left, pissed, of course.

 - That sums it up.

Her friend smiles.

 - So, what is the surprise? Was the girl a hooker or what?

The other woman tries to speak but can't. She grunts, then she smiles and covers her face. Then back to a straight face.

 - What? What's funny?

 - It happens, I lied...

 - What?

 - I lied.

 - About what? You didn't caught him in the act? There was no gift? What?

 - No, that was all true. But, before I entered the room I heard... moaning.

 - Oh... So?

 - I went in because it sounded strange.

 - He was fucking another girl. Of course it was strange.

 - B, he wasn't fucking a girl.

Her friend went mute. For a second she was confused but then her eyes grew big as she understood what her friend was saying and what her earlier smile meant.

 - Fuck.

 - Yeah... I know.

 - But... You dumped him, right?

 - Yeah.

 - Talked to him?

 - I did. He kinda explained or whatever. I feel like an idiot, to be honest.

 - I know. I mean, what a surprise, huh?

 - It really wasn't, you know? Somehow, I always knew it. I saw signs and just now I realize how i all    made sense.

 - Tough luck, then. Two years...

 - I'm trying not to think about it... You know what's weird?

 - What?

 - I feel sorry for him. I really do. I mean, I know him. Like, really know him and I don't hate him or      whatever.

 - You are the best girl a guy or gay or girl could ask for.

They both then laughed and the tension that had been brewing for weeks disappeared. Like the last time, they changed the subject.

Although, there was one more surprise ahead but not for the girl that had been cheated on but for her friend. Guess who was the guy covering himself with blankets in the bed of her best friend's ex?

A Sea of Words

The rain had gotten me there. It was a rather small library, with shelves all around and a few tables filled with piles and piles of books.

I had never gotten in there. Actually, I had never seen the place before. This was very strange as my house was not that far.

I have to say I don't read very much as I prefer creation than reading. I know this is a controversial point of view but I'm looking for approval. However, it was refreshing to see places like this still existed. I walked around the room and only saw a one small and elderly woman in a corner, sitting in a high stool, reading a book. I think it was Moby Dick but I wouldn't say for sure.

There were first editions, new books and old books, big ones and small ones and in every single language you could think of.

A guy, a bit older than me, appeared from behind one of the piles of books. I was startled and tried to fake it but he had noticed and started to laugh. I was really annoyed by this so I turned around and started checking the books in the opposite shelf. I gazed at the window: the downpour appeared to have gotten worse, if possible. I could even see the light of a thunder and the sound, this time, didn't startled me although I felt worried I wouldn't make it to my date.

The guy appeared again, blocking my view of the window. He asked if I was looking for a particular book. I told him I wasn't. He then asked if I had just entered the store because of the rain to which I answered with a soft "Yes".

I grabbed one of the books and I attempted to fake reading but the book happened to be an illustrated version of the Kamasutra so I put it back on the shelf as the guy laughed hard. I turned around to check on the older lady but she appeared to be to immersed in her book.

Trying to come up with something to say, I didn't realized the guy had grabbed my hand and was making me walk towards the back of the room. When I did realize what was going on, I felt blood rushing to my face and tried to release myself from him but he only tightened his grip. He opened a door and then made me follow him up, to a second floor.

There, there was a room as large as the one below. Shelves were also all around but in the center of the room there were only a few tables, to be shared by two people at most. Each one had a lamp and they seemed to be really comfortable.

He released my hand and went to the back of the room, close to a circular window through which I could see the rain continuing to fall. The guy started looking for a book as I watched around, seeing only one of the tables occupied. There was an older man that went back and forth in the book, apparently comparing phrases or maybe images.

I got closer to him and tried to watch over his shoulder. He then said "You can come closer if you want". So I did. He was reading an encyclopedia, apparently only dealing with sea creatures. He was comparing two types of salmon. I smiled at him as I saw the guy telling me to come closer.

As I walked across the room, he sat on a chair and turned on the lamp. I sat down in front of him. He told me he had a present for me. I smiled and asked him "Why would you give a present? We don't know each other?". He answered "Precisely".

He gave me the book and I realized it was a first edition of the first book of the Harry Potter series. I couldn't refrain myself from laughing. But he didn't laughed. He actually look at me disappointed, as if I had hurt him horribly.

I realized it was the wrong response so I stopped and apologized. I laughed, I told him, because I thought he was going to pick a strange and weird book for me, to make me feel stupid for coming into his store.

He corrected me: the store was owned by his grandparents. "You have already met them". I turned around to see the older gentleman flipping pages and scratching his head. Salmons were puzzling him indeed. His grandmother was the Moby Dick lady, he confirmed.

 - What's your name?

That was his next question. I told him my name and then he told me his: Marcus. He told me his parents loved the Antiquity and if he had been a girl he would have been named Cleopatra.

I smiled at this. It was a sweet anecdote. He smiled back and told me he loved Harry Potter and thought it would be a nice present for someone who doesn't read much or so it seemed. I told him he was right. We started talking for a while: I told him what I did for a life and what I liked and he told me about his deceased parents, his love for books and his grandparents.

I have no idea how much time I spent there. What's true is that, when we came down to the ground floor, rain had stopped and the orange light of the afternoon was filtering through the window.

Marcus told me we should meet when I finish the book. I agreed. I was about to come out of the store when I realized I wanted to ask something more. He looked at me and then I thought it was better to ask about it the next time we would meet.

Some time later I was on the bus calling my friend, telling her I would be arriving a bit late due to the rain. She said it was ok and we hung up. I then thought of Marcus and how guilty I felt having not told him that I had known Harry Potter for years. I read the books when I was younger, as they came out. I really liked the story and that was, in part, the reason why I laughed when he gave me the book.

Anyway, I wanted to meet him and go that place again. So I felt good about lying and thanked the rain for its wisdom.