All our lives

Chapter 8

If he didn't want to hear that chant ever again in his life, he had to act quickly and precisely. If by the end of the night he didn't manage to induce that dream, tomorrow evening he would again be doomed to stand in front of thousands of people and cry like a twelve-year-old girl watching Titanic.

Titanic? More like how twelve-year-olds' moms were crying at it. Titanic had been a hit in another century. Hell, another millennium. Literally! What were girls crying over these days? Twilight? No, even that was so yesterday. Some boy band splitting? That was always a good reason and boy bands had the tendency to spring like mushrooms after rain and disappear even faster. But that era was in the past too.

Some heartthrob he had never heard of in his life getting a new girlfriend? Yeah, that seemed plausible. "Or maybe getting married out of the blue?" a little voice chirped in his head and he started to laugh so suddenly he almost choked. He rolled on his side until the unexpected giggles stopped. He took a deep breath and returned to his previous position, lying back on the bed with his arms spread like a lame Jesus and with his eyes pinned on the ceiling.

"Well, you did hurt more than 12-year-olds with your move." It took him many years to understand why his friends had not been over thrilled by his gesture. It was not envy, they had not thought he had made a huge mistake, it was not even the fact they hadn't been happy for him. They had been. And they would have expressed it way better if he hadn't cut off their chance to be there for him. If he hadn't excluded them like they didn't matter. They had been happy for him and hurt at the same time. Those contradictory feelings could coexist, but that was a thing he had only come to understand many, many years afterwards, when it didn't matter anymore.

"Yep, I'm drunk!" he concluded with satisfaction. That was the only difference he had found between the night when he had accidentally changed everything and the next ones. On that night he had been well soaked in whiskey, not in his own tears. After half of the bottle of whiskey, he was the same now, although the room refused to spin with him. He didn't think it was that important.

He had repeated all those ridiculous ritual actions - knock, rotate, search for a hidden button, stare like an idiot at some absolutely still circles - which made him feel like that tennis player who couldn't serve before obsessive - compulsively fiddling with his shorts. Or his underwear. Man, it was so disconcerting! What was his name? How the hell did he forget it? He and some of the guys had watched the French Open final about two weeks ago.

"Yep, drunk!" Undeniable drunk. His risible and random thoughts were the evidence for that. Or maybe he was close to falling asleep. Sometimes, right before losing all connections with reality, his thoughts felt a little funny, making perfect sense then, but none if he were to be fully awake.

He used to like that sensation of suspension between two worlds, when everything was blurry and clear at the same time and he could see reason in every absurdity. He wasn't so sure he would ever enjoy that again, because there was always a moment when lucidity kicked in and he wondered if he was indeed falling asleep and not losing his mind. That question did not have an obvious answer anymore, moreover, he was inclined to go with the second option.

"Nadal!" popped in his brain with vivid colors and a small snap. Nadal was his name. Oh, he was so far away from shutting down his brain. Maybe he should have gone for one more glass. "Yeah, and then you'd have slept on the bathroom floor," he scolded himself.

He yawned and flopped on his stomach. His sleeping position could not count in that process of rewriting history and the sudden move induced a little spinning-floating sensation in his body. That was a good thing he supposed. Did other people experience that nonsensical transition from awake to asleep? Did other people's brains take half-thoughts and combined them into a revolutionary discovery that would transform into gibberish when trying to focus on it?