I look up. That’s the first thing I see. A black carpet with a million of small holes. Some glow, other’s don’t. Just like the myriad of lives, you see in the street.
I’m floating. I look down. I’m in a pool, the shimmering rays from the underwater bulbs illuminate the slender body of mine. In my right hand, I have my Chivas Regal, my loyal companion, my partner in crime, the bottle to whom I confess at night. My left hand is touching the water. Just to check, is it real? A lot of things in my life aren’t. You can’t be too cautious…
Sway, to the right, to the left. Like a motherly hug the water is protecting me. I hear someone swimming, I hear several swimming. Women, girls, a ladyboy(?). Women from my past are swimming beneath me, next to me, behind me. My starving eyes follow them. My recollection is trying to keep up.
Fuck… There’s the one who came over, 20 minutes after my text. There’s the one whom I fucked at the office. Over there, is the one who swayed her heels towards me, and made me carry her, then whip her. And here’s a girl with the pale breasts and the visible rib cage, the one whom I wanted to fuck at the cemetery. And right in front of me is the one who snorted cocaine off my crotch. And there, was that painter who dug her nails in my back. Way back there, is the married woman whom I fingered. There’s the one who dreams of becoming an actress. They’re all swimming. They seem to giggle.
… a row of naked arms soar out of the water like a rocket. I can’t distinguish one from the other. I can just tell who’s Arabic and who’s not. Who’s Danish, and who’s not. Who’s Caucasian and who’s not.
A flesh-toned mosaic of familiar bodies soaring from the water beneath me, as I’m drinking myself to death.
Then I look ahead. At the edge of the pool. There’s a chair. My woman. The love of my life is staring at me. She’s not judging. But she’s disappointed. I fucked it up… fucked it up good.
In a series of FLASHES, she moves further and further away. I can still feel the sting of her stare. I’m shouting her name, but nothing comes out. I’m trying, with all my might, to scream for her name. But nothing comes out.
She stands up. The love of my life. Gets closer. Stands at the edge of the pool.
And the army of arms, grab my flotilla, on which I rest, and pull me down. I’m drowning. Yet I can still see. They’re pulling me down. These wondrous creatures of the water, their fleshy curves, their bones, their womanhood.
I can still see me love’s face, looking down at me from the edge. The water is playing its tricks on her face, but I’d recognize that face everywhere. She’s still staring. She’s so close and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The girls of my past are winking at me, squeezing their tits, all with the grace of lusty, young mermaids.
… and I’m their fallen prince.
It turns darker, bluer.
… and then black.