Tears Of London

She

JO

He is not the same person. The guy I talked to last time, he wasn't so kind and careful.
I missed his soft voice.
I missed his face.
I missed his vanilla perfume.
I missed his everything.
- My last relationship was a disaster. I don't want to live this again.
Here we are. Finally. He's about to tell me what happened.
I let him talk, even if I already know the story. I don't want to make him feel bad. I want him to think he's the first one to tell me about Emily.
- Why ? Do I make you think of her ? I ask.
- No. You actually have nothing in common.
I look at him in the eyes and he does the same.
- She was an addict, even more than me, so...it has been a difficult time.
He's taking a break, probably to think about the words he'll use next.
- She died two years ago, and...
I put my hand on his, which is still around his knees. At my touch, he relaxes slightly and smiles.
- ...and I still feel like she's still there, torturing me.
He is saying this with a strange laugh, but I can hear the distress hid in his voice. 
- Why this ?
- I kinda let her hurt me for a while, until I decide it was enough. The day after I broke up, she killed herself.
That's what Aliya told me : the jealousy, the cheating, the violence...the overdose. I just didn't know she committed suicide.
- Did she hurt you ? Physically, I precise, analysing each of his facial expressions.
I don't want to go too far. To make him feel uncomfortable.
- I'm not proud of it, he admits.
That's a yes. Why does he say that ? Why is he "not proud" of something he didn't do ?
No, above all : why did she hurt him ?
- Now my father has a reason to call me a faggot, he says half smiling.
I keep my hand on his. I hold it steady, as if he would fall if I'd drop it.
- I hate this word. Don't say that.
- Anyways. I hope you understood that it wasn't about you.
Then, he added :
- I'm sure I'd be happy today if I had met you earlier.
I smile and look elsewhere.
The sun is leaving, the night is falling. London has never been prettier than at that real moment.
- Did he treat you well ? Erin asks.
- Who ?
- The guy with whom you left the other night. Was he kind with you ?
I take a breath. Hold my tears.
- He did his best, I reply.
- What does that mean ?
- It was a bit painful.
- That's common. But was he gentle ?
- Not really.
I see his gaze juggling from my eyes to my chin. He is frowning.
- That's not his fault, I defend him (I don't know why, by the way) He didn't know it was my first time.
- You...didn't tell him ?
- I didn't want him to judge me.
He must think I was stupid : he turns his head elsewhere, still frowning, tight jaw.
- So, he hurt you, he deduces without even looking at me.
- Erin...I want to be one hundred pour-cent honest with you.
He finally turns back at me.
- Just promise me it will stay between us.
- I promise.
I take a moment to think about it. Do I really want to do that ? I want to tell someone, but is he the good someone ?
- I didn't want to do it.
I check his reactions, but he has none.
- To have sex. But he insisted. I told him it was painful, but he didn't listen to me. He said it was normal.
Erin's hand leaves mine alone on the tile to squeeze his other one, back around his knees. He doesn't say anything. He just looks at them.
- Say something. Anything, I beg him as he doesn't break the silence.
- It shouldn't have happened that way, he only says.
Frenetically, I press my hand until I feel my nails penetrating into my flesh. I feel horrible.
- How are you ?
I look at him with shame.
- How do you feel ? he says.
There was no judgment in his tone. No anger. Just compassion.
"How do you feel ?" It has been one month since I've waited for someone to ask me this.
- I feel like a dustbin.
My lips are shaking while I answer.
With his arms, he wraps me against him. I am so close that I can feel his heart. One of his hands comes to the top of my head, playing with my hair. The other one holds my left shoulder gently. I tighten my hand around his forearm.
- I feel so gross, you can't imagine.
He is hot against me, and it simply feels great. In his arms, I can cry freely. I know I can.
- I'm so sorry, he whispered.