The Stranger

Chapter 3

I walk out into the foggy night, and find you are waiting for me beneath a streetlight.  You ask me how it went, smiling as if you did me a favor, and maybe you did. I tell you I did it for you, and you laugh. 

You didn't do it for me, mi amor, you did it because you are coward.  You couldn't resist the temptation I sent you, the easy way out.  If Pabliito didn't exist, you would have invented another.

What do you mean?  Jacob was never going to be right for me, not so long as I have you.

But you don't have me.  Nobody has anyone.  You have only your memory of me, our moments of pleasure and pain, and even these memories constantly changes according to whatever is right in front of you.  When Jacob is selfish, you remember the time I had ice cream delivered to your sorority house.  When Jacob is generous, you remember the time I flew you to Mexico for Spring break, but didn't show up until the night before you had to leave so that I could rage fuck you on the balcony.  I sent you Pablito, hoping you would show mercy, because at least he was interested in poetry.  I can't help it if he was really just trying to get into you pants.  What can I say?  I made him in my own image.

What are you doing here then?  You came to critique my life decisions? 

What do you mean what am I doing here?  I'm here because you called me.  I'm here because I have to be here.  I'm here, my amor, because you haven't found a proper shrink.

Oh, so you think I'm crazy.  Is that what it is?

You are crazy, mi amor, and that is what I love about you.

I slap you.  I grab your hand.  I put your hand to my breast so that you can feel me, so that you know that I am real.  I can smell you, the faint burn of cigarettes and aftershave.  I know that you are real.  

Let go me, you said.  I dare you.  Even if I am real, you know we can't be together.   You can't stop me from walking into the night because you haven't learned the words you need to know in order to break the ancient curse.

There is no such thing as a curse in real life.  That only exists in that stupid novel I'm writing.

Really?  Then how come you haven't found love?  Why do you float through men like ghosts, and yet refuse to come life with me in Spain.

I have a life here.  I can't just leave.

Not even for love?

What about you?  Why can't you come live with me here in Oregon?  If you have so much money, then why don't you come here?

I wouldn't matter, you say.  Because of the curse.  Here we are together now, and you know I have to leave.

You don't have to leave, I say.

Even as I say these words, I don't believe them.  I can't stop you from walking away. 

I can't break the spell of your disappearing.