The woman yawned. A long lazy noise came right out of her and was gone. It was an unearthly sound. She felt extremely tired
after a bad night's sleep. Nightmares had plagued her since her early
childhood but their vividness had increased of late. They had
become virtually indistinguishable from reality.
Nadia tentatively felt the other side of her bed with the back of her hand in vain. Her husband was gone.
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The word "gone"meant "dead" in her nightmares. She knew that. For this reason, Nadia hides her breath every night and never blinks, fully expenting that, if she was going to stay like this long enough, some other thing might emerge.
Lulling the consciousness, putting a temporary freeze on logic, bringing the advance of time to a halt, if only momentarily- those were the kind of things she was trying to do.
For a second or so, she could see her husband in his black leather coat,with his big black instrument case hanging his shoulder, walking to work, as if they would live a normal life. Thus, the word "gone" seemed full of nothing but a deep relief, the relief we feel when door closes and our house comes back to normal, ad we loose ourselves into all the free space around us.
Motionless, Nadia's hand remains on bed, she finds herself involved in the silence.
She began to remember when she was only a child. At night, when the darkness was coming, Nadia used to think that the shades in her room could walk around her and whisper some secret in her ear. But now, she was an alone woman lied down on her bed and that unusualness resonance came back. She was exhausted to perceive any more, so memories had brought back that night.
The sun light cross the patterned curtain which covered the huge glass of the window. Nadia became awake and the phone repeatedly rang.
Albeit it was a fullmoon night, there was a barely shimmy moonnight and the starry sky was wrapped by haze.
A gust of cold wind made her shudder while the noise there was again. A eerie voice was hovered over her head..and..Offhand their looks met; she was beguiled by his eyes, icy steely blue and soulless eyes.Flummoxed, she uttered: "what in the hell are you doing here?"
The phone rang again. She looked back, frightened. The phone had remained silent for so long she could not even recognized at first where this sound came from. It was then that she became aware he was not there anymore. Those captivating eyes are gone and she still lies down on her bed, shuddering and out of breath. “Why couldn´t the days began as they used to, with the cup of coffee and the morning paper? Why couldn´t you just leave and stop ticking me off?” she wondered as she got up.
While she was drinking her first cup of coffee, her thoughts were wandering through the emptiness in which she had just installed in, wondering if her life had meant nothing but a second fiddle play. How long has this been going on? Where is the cheerful girl she used to be? Where is the sparkle she used to wear in her eyes? While she gradually was overcoming by a feeling of great sadness, the front door opened, bringing a glimmer of hope back to her newly state of mind.
Drunked, in struggling movements, he walked across the room, sat opposite of her, took his acoustic guitar out of its case and began to sing "the beast in me" and... as usual, she burst into tears.
Nadia couldn’t stand living in this suffering way any longer. However, she didn’t know how to solve her unpleasant problem. Lately the same nightmare had come back and she knew what it meant, sooner or later someone would die, and nobody was able to prevent it. For all that, she needed him more than ever but her husband was drunk as usual in the last ten months, since his very close friend was killed in that horrific hit and run so the band had lost the most important member and things weren’t going well.
The phone started to ring once more time. In spite of her fears, Nadia stopped crying, stood up and looked for the telephone with a view to answering.
In a flit of anger she threw the phone through the window, crashing the glass with a enormous sound, while an enormous shout started to get out of her throat, remembering how long it was since she shouted for the last time.
The wind stroked her face, releasing the deepest feeling she was hiding for so long. Inmediately a thought began to
grow into her mind, each second bigger than the previous one. In a while wich seemed an eternity, the thougth got into an enormous thougth: It was time to be free.
One minute later she was coming out directly toward the street. She will never more feel the wind in the face through a window.
And the street appeared in front of her: ENORMOUS !!!
-"Ohhhh Come on!!!!" said Quentin, - "do you really want me to produce a shit like that????? Are you kidding me, bloke?...
Where Am I supposed to land something like that?"...
He was right, it was my worst film script work for ages...
I gritted my teeth pretending to be calm, although I couldn´t take it any longer. I hadn´t way out, so it´d be better to assume my mediocrity. Quentin was drumming his fingers repeatedly.
Suddenly, I began to remember my first plot. That weird woman sat down in the neglected garden of a old big ruined house.
So, I tried to persuade him of my skill as a scriptwriter.
keep 'em coming!!!
The place choosen for the meeting wasn´t helping to sort things out: just a few sad young men drinking up the night, the same picture Quentin was watching opposite of him: a very brilliant scriptwriter who became cruelly dashed.
- "Cheer up Mr. Black!"- said Quentin showing such a lack of conviction that even a child would have noted.
-"Let´s restart all over again: firstable... What do we have we could save?
- "Let me think... Nadia´s nightmares?, "the beast in me"?, the ringing phone thrown through the window?... said Mr. Black
- "Nadia´s nightmares could be all right, "the beast in me" is non-negotiable, I mean, it was the best beast of all your scriptwork; but I think Nadia must answer the phone..."
- "Yes... Maybe if you take a look at my latest writings..."
And Quentin began to read again...
Nadia answered the phone.
A stern voice spoke from the other end of the phone.Suddenly, in just a heart beat, many years disappeared and her entire childhood came rushing back. She looked at her husband and her look was possessed by restlessness.
In spite of his state of mind, he turned towards her and he soon comforted her with his big, solid body. She became calm. Calm, this was a lie, because she had not told him of her real fears at all.
While she was listening to that dry voice, she was staring at his sad, frail face.
Nadia gently stroked his hair and thought:
- How very strange!, it would make more sense if cold, soulles eyes of a devil were looking at me with his mean, cruel smile.
I was shaking like jelly. I felt deeply offended by Quentin´s remarks, but I did not want him to be aware of it. I had noticed he saw me as a loser.
- "Mmmm"!!-Thoughtfully Quentin grumbled, without even looking at me.
- "So" - he muttered- "you mean that the husband is the beast. Well,well...and...Who is the voice from the other end of the phone?".
I'm truly impressed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-"Are you kidding me, bloke?"- Said Mr.Black, parodying Qhentin's words-"It's supposed to be a damn thriller, I wont to give you all the clues".
Mr.Black pretended to take control of the situation.It was clear,though, that he had no idea how the script would continue.
Quentin glared at him:
-"Come again?"- He answered back
-"I said, I couldn't give you all clues"- Mumbled Mr.Black cowardly.
-"Get it straight, guy, I'm not here to do whatever you like. I'm here to tell you what to do. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen".
-"No, no, Quentin, it's not like that.Your help is definitely appreciated. It's no big deal, I had no desire of offending you"
-"In my opinion"-Quentin stated- "you're barking up the wrong tree, after all, we need to get the meat of the plot: a love story".
_"Dear me!"-Mr.Black thought-"a lovestory!, but, why should I make any changes to my plot?. It would be just for fun. However, shall I boost his enormous ego?.
Nevermore.
Then, Quentin quoted Shakespeare in an affected gesture of the performing arts:
"Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of the nightmares"....
-I'm referring to Nadia's nightmares, of course"-He said.
-"Well,well, it's very interesting, I can see where you are coming from, althoug it may be possible to bear in mind another famous Shakespeare quote. Listen to me..."
-"A "please" would be nice"- Quentin was tongue-tied because of the alcohol.
-"What?...Ah,I see!..Woul you like to listen to me, please?.."
Mr.Black repeated Quentin's word while he nodded in agreement, and Mr.Black recited:
"All the world is a stage, and all the men and women, merely players"
The place was full of noises and foggy because of the cigarrete smoke. As regards Quentin, he was also in a fog.While he chatted in a lively fashion to the waitress, I looked at the figure of a man out the corner of my eye. He was a big solid man, wearing a black leather coat, who was going on the stage. He sat opposite the inattentive audience,took his acoustic guitar out of its case and began to sing.
His song exuded sadness from every note, a sadness as deeply palpable as was necessary to cause pain.
In spite of the hubbub,I could understand the lyrics:
"The beast in me has had to learn to live with pain..and in the blink of an eye might have to be restrained..."
He had such a wealth of experiencie in his voice, heaven and hell, no one could make you feel as he was doing then.
Deeply moved, Mr.Black thought:
- "How very strange! -Everything that happens in the movie is in my head. Nevertheless, it is as if, by magic, Nadia's husband and his two mysterious faces, had come true"
Happy New Year, Nadia!
Is your story come to an end?
Well then, maybe it´s time for you to sleep again.
Farewell.
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