فيزا
'Fuck. If you hear from her... tell her I love her. Ok?' He takes the word, much to my relief, 'cause I was trying so hard not to yell in disappointment in his face and tell him my side of the story, aka that in my (new) book (that he knows nothing about yet) he's a cheat... and I smile a very glum smile, when I notice that talking about his girlfriend has made him get all awkward, all glum himself, and a little too apologetic. Maybe he's been hit by a wave of regret because he knows that trying to bed me, a total stranger, wasn't very good boyfriend-like of him, and I agree 'cause that really fucking was disrespectful for all parties involved... but reasonably, how is his sense of guilt gonna get better, if he tells me to remind his girlfriend that she's loved, if I happen to hear from her? How the fuck should I even know her given that I'm, indeed, a total stranger whom he's met only ... ten minutes ago ? Does he think that every specimen he can find in some hotel corridor, anywhere and anytime, magically knows his girlfriend, and even has her number ? I'm sorry to break this down to him, but unlike he believes and loves to tease me about, I'm not friends with everyone in the world. I only happen to know his girlfriend because I'm his girlfriend, although he doesn't have the faintest idea that I am because he's shitfaced... and finding out that I'm loved by the only man I've ever loved and ever wanna be loved back by, just like this, aka so candidly, thanks to his own admission, genuinely warms my heart. It doesn't change the fact that I'm a little pissed at him because he tried to cheat on me with me, as there could've been another woman in my place and he would've done the same... but that's still a fair consolation prize. Moral of the story: I won't tell his girlfriend that she's loved because that'd mean talking to myself in the mirror, and I'm not that level of psycho. Or at least I'm not just yet. I won't hear from her because I'm her, indeed. This whole thing is nothing but a pile of nonsense ... but all good in my book. Would be about ten times better if I knew that he ain't lying when he says he loves me... because y'know, he's so drunk he might swear that the earth is flat, but that wouldn't be true anyway. So what should I do here? Break things down to him, perhaps rub his face too, and so make him remember that I'm his girl? Or just keep playing it cool and pretending to be a stranger to see how far he can go with me? I think I'll settle for the second option. Mostly because at this point, I'm pretty sure that his antics of flirting with me are over for good. Both of us's good, and his girlfriend's too.
'Sure... ahem, what's your name?' I mumble, attempting to get closer to him all over again, and offering him my hand for a shake. Because in all of this, we haven't introduced ourselves to eachother just yet, although we have talked about a little bit of everything, sex included ... and at this point, this total stranger just wants to know his name, if possible. Whether he remembers it or no is unknown, but keep that degree of uncertainty coming, 'cause it's kinda fun . If he doesn't remember his own name, as I believe is the case because he's totally out of it, I'll take the initiative, gather up all of my courage, and tell him what it is: Sean. And if he looks at me with eyes squinted as to say 'how the fuck do you stranger know my name and my job, if I haven't told you one word about who I am for real?', I'll just shrug and say 'ok, Sean'. Y'know, to throw it back to the night we met... and to resume our iconic 'no/ok' & 'ok/no' hysterical, nonsense bantering. If he even remembers about it, of course. I bet he does, I just have to refresh his mind about it perhaps... because reasonably, how can one forget that we fell in love (or the closest to that as it can get) with a monosyllabic exchange that lasted no less than two fucking hours ? When we could've spent that time fucking, if he hadn't kept his hands on his fucking peepee to let his boundaries known to me?
'Sean. Yours?' He answers, shaking my hand, and somehow even pulling out a smile although I can tell that he's still feeling all sorts of awkward... and full of regret for having done his beloved girlfriend dirty, too. I know it by the way he's trying to avoid my direct stare, lowering his gaze to his feet, or to his bulging pants, I just don't know. I'm feeling all sorts of awkward here, and like there's nothing I can do in this instance than shyly smile his way... because no matter how shitfaced he is, he surprisingly does remember his name. And he still pronounces it in his best, driest, smoothest Irish accent. Now he wants to know my name, because it's the least I could tell him giving that we're introducing ourselves for the 'first time', and he still doesn't know what name to associate to my girly, ethnic face. But shit fuck, I legit don't know how to qualify myself. Should I tell him that I'm Jennifer, and have him tell me that I look like the chick from the porn movies, and that my name doesn't suit me because it doesn't match my 'Italian' face? Should I tell him that I'm Tori, short for Victoria (or Vittoria, because he still thinks I'm Italian) and then proceed to tell him that it means 'bird' in Yemeni Arabic? Because I'm part Yemeni and fucking proud to be, and a fucking proud crazy bird lady too? Does he remember about my genuine love for birds? Does he remember that I aspire to be a veterinarian, and studying to become one is the reason why I'm in the US? Does he remember that 'his girlfriend' loves birds and wants to become a veterinarian too? So many questions, too little courage to ask him either one of 'em.
