The iPhone alarm went off. It kept on ringing. It felt like eternity. Her hand emerged from underneath the duvet, reaching the low table beside her bed, attempting in a disoriented way to locate her phone. The phone fell on the floor, and fell silent … for a while. When the alarm started ringing again, there was an abrupt move under the duvet. This time, her head and her two hands appeared, and the three of them dived into the floor to silence the source of noise. She laid on the bed briefly, her hair covering her face. She then dragged herself towards the bathroom. And as she sat on the toilet, she held her head in both of her hands, and uttered the words:
“Fuck… fucking fuck.”
She was still too confused to decide which idea was the stupidest, to get drunk yesterday, or to set the alarm for ten in the morning.
She headed to the balcony to water her only plant, a frail hortensia that barely holds couple of blue petals. In the kitchen, she prepared the moka pot, placed it onto the stove, and lowered the flame to the minimum. She went back to the bathroom for a quick shower. Until two weeks ago, she used to take her shower late at night, and she would occasionally miss it when she was too tired or too lazy. She thought that bathing in the morning would bring some discipline and freshness to her days. Still, every morning, as she stumbles half-awake towards the falling water, she doubts the validity of that wisdom.
Back in the kitchen, the smell of coffee was filling the place. She adjusted herself on the wooden chair, fixed the towel on her head, and rolled a cigarette. She turned on the laptop, and then set the playlist to random. The first sip of coffee brought an ephemeral smile to her face, while Long Way Home was playing in the background. She lit the cigarette, and began to dry her long hair with the towel.
The memories of last night were hazy. She wondered if she can enjoy, or even tolerate, Louise’s company without drinking that much Jameson. Well, at least, Louise was not in her often tragic mood yesterday. It was her euphoric character that was switched on, talking nonstop about her latest boyfriend, and the marvelous sex they’re having.
“Marvelous! … Oh please! … Who uses such adjectives to describe sex?”
She remembered that she hasn’t slept with anyone since two months, or so. But she swiftly brushed this idea aside. She poured another cup of coffee, contemplating how to fill this day. Her one month holiday is nearly over, and she has to go back to work next week. She dislikes her job. Well, this was the main reason to take that holiday, to figure out if she’ll quit her job, or what to do with her life in general. But during all the past weeks, she managed to avoid these questions. She thought of all the wasted time, and felt a bit guilty. At that moment, her random playlist chose to play Green Grass, she hesitated a bit and then pressed the stop button.
She went back to the bathroom, threw the towel in the laundry basket, and looked at the mirror. She found another white hair, and immediately removed it. She searched for other white hairs, couldn’t find any. With her finger she touched the tiny hole on the side of her nose. Couple of days ago, she took off her small triangular nose stud. It was another of her late decisions. She was still not sure how removing the piercing would be a change. She moved closer to the mirror, and thought that this little scar goes perfectly well with the slight bump on her nose. Since she was a kid, she had this love-hate relation with her bumpy nose. And till now, she avoids photos being taken of her profile. And while she was staring at her nose in the mirror, she thought that spinach and fried eggs would be a good idea for lunch. She put some clothes on, and headed to the supermarket.
The food was satisfying.
“I need to cook more,” she said to herself, while doing the dishes.
She prepared some coffee, and took the coffee cup and the tobacco to the balcony. Few people were passing on the street. They all seemed to pass in a hurry. Her phone made a loud beep. She went inside looking for it. She found it in the bedroom, still under the bed. It was a sms from someone called Martin. She turned off the phone without checking the message. She was not in the mood of any kind of social interaction today. It took her sometime to remember who Martin is. They shagged twice several weeks ago. It was meaningless and tasteless sex. She felt curious to read the message, then she was reminded by his blandness. She recalled what Louise said last night that making sex during the day fills her with energy. She tried to remember the effect of midday sex, it only evoked in her memories of being sleepy. But she didn’t always trust her memory.
“Maybe Louise is right…”
Then she thought, if midday sex is energizing, midday masturbation should be too. The idea that sex or masturbation would bring motivation was tempting, and she wanted to put it to the test. She rarely masturbates. It often leaves her with feelings of emptiness and loneliness. But to be fair, these are the same feelings that she experiences most of the time after sleeping with someone. Only with few people, on some occasions, the after sex felt quite good. She couldn’t find her green vibrator. She couldn’t even remember the last time she used it. She sat in front of her laptop looking for some stimulation. She thought of feminist porn.
“Ha! Feminist Porn Awards!” she discovered, with a smile.
She went for the winner of the Sexiest Short, Pachisi. She found the short movie online. And as the video began, she unbuttoned her jeans. Her hand slipped through her pubic hair. Her middle finger went back and forth on her clit, draw a semicircle around it, before moving away. Her focus shifted to the actors’ facial expressions. They were blank. The fact that she couldn’t see the actress’ eyes didn’t help either. This was the main reason she dislikes porn. She needs to see their feelings in their faces. She needs to detect that glitter in their eyes. Sex scenes in movies are way better. 9 Songs came to her mind. But she realized that the only thing she remembers from the movie is that the guy works in the South Pole. Anyway, it appeared to her that watching a long movie, just to masturbate, is a lot of work to do. But she concluded that some credits have to be given to the director of Pachisi, after all, there are some artistic scenes. She thought again of her future plans, or to be more precise, of their non-existence. She sat on the kitchen table, and decided to write down ten things that she would like to do in her life. After few minutes staring at the blank paper, she stood up, took her small brown leather bag, and left the apartment.
She wandered around for couple of hours, without any purpose. Her random path was punctuated by sitting in different small gardens, just to watch people. Her last stop was at Helmholtzplatz. And as she was walking down Schönhauser Allee, she reached Sredzkistraße where the U-Bahn emerges from the ground. She walked towards the fence, and stood directly above the tracks, watching with amusement the trains coming in and out underneath her. She felt that she is much larger than herself, and trains started to pass through her. She felt so powerful when trains were entering her body, and too vulnerable as trains disappeared in the distance, after she ejected them. And she thought that this was much better than porn, and she laughed. Suddenly, she turned towards her left. An old woman was standing next to her, staring at her with a mixture of disapproval and disgust. Her face blushed. She lowered her head, and walked as fast as she can towards the nearest U-Bahn station. The U-Bahn was packed and noisy, but she could detect I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love with You coming out from the headphones of a girl standing beside her.
Back in her apartment, she ate some bread and cheese, and opened a bottle of beer. She binge-watched four episodes of Billions. And around midnight, she went out on the balcony for the last cigarette of the day. The hortensia looked so pathetic. She couldn’t take her eyes off the feeble plant. Something needs to be done. She finished her cigarette. She took the plant pot and a small shovel, and went down to the Landwehrkanal. She walked along the canal towards the east, the direction that she rarely takes. She found a spot next to the water, which she assumed it was both hidden and sunny. She dug a hole in the ground. She knelt, removed the hortensia from the pot, and put it in the hole. She then moved closer to the plant, and whispered:
“I’m going to fall in love soon. I hope you do so too.”
She walked back home, swinging with the shovel, and humming to the tune of Temptation. She put on her red checkered pajamas, brushed her teeth, took one Mirtazapine pill, and went to bed.
on/off ... but mostly off 