Part 4

The escape…in the mirror

I come only late during this day home. I need a glass of wine, only to come down again. "Do you also want, Bette? Yes? Okay." I take the wine bottle from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard. "Here please." if I whisper quietly and push to you the glass against.

What the crazy day. I am completely finished. The whole day the phone, a loud ring rang, how a shout. It roars in my ears, pain like the vague blow of a head against the wall. So I have fled in the lunch break. I thought, a nice, small pub, unknown for most L.A. he, and thus damn straight, everything is quite peaceful and absolute rest. And really, I was almost alone here, the waitress was very friendly and the man at the next table, thus about 30, in the tailor-made suit and a book on the table, this returned me a little internal rest.

I take my glass and sit down on the couch.

I think, sometimes quite honestly what can happen in a small pub in the midday here in L.A. already? Oh well, something, because them have thrown me. Allowedly, I should not have shouted at the type beside myself and „You are a fucking asshole!“ I could also have kept back and if he had not grinned so silly, would also not have I tipped to him my salad about the expensive designer suit, but sometimes had honestly, mobile phone to go really in his fucking and discuss loudly beside me, with probably his best friend, his upset marriage? I mean, I have escaped, nevertheless, grad and now here and just in the most unimportant pub in L.A. which I know. On the way back it still caught in to be raining and a little boy with an ice in the hand bumped into me on the sidewalk. Then class, this was probably the punishment for the tailor-made suit.

Like a lion in his cage I go up and down.

What the crazy day. Oh, how much I have hoped on the way home, now you would be there, me in the arms take, my feet massage and bring me a milk shake. Like a thunderstorm you move by my head. I sit here in my home which was once our home, here we have laughed and cried, problems have solved and have comforted our friends, and here we have loved each other. And if I close the eyes, I still feel this love. The indescribable warmth which you are able to emit has caught me during days like these. And I can feel how happy we were as perfect our teamwork of individuality, career and family was. You were so strong, so strongly for yourself, so strongly for me and even stronger for us both. Maybe this was to you too much, also wanted sometimes weakly it’s in my arms. Have I not given you enough, Bette, not enough hold, not enough love? How much I wished, you would know how deep my love is really to you and how happy I was that I had you. Oh, nevertheless, I would have more often still said to you that my life and my being was only complete by you that you have made me perfect and to the person whom I would not even have to dreamed. You were so much, were everything, were more still

is away!

Can you hear this, Bette? Exactly listen …

It is quiet here, pleasantly quietly, nothing what can disturb this rest now, so I have switched already as a precaution the phone silently, oh, this infinite rest, like doing good, how relaxing. Not a sound is to be heard. No cars, no steps, no dog barking and before all things no phone ring. It is this kind of rest which wraps everything which fills the room like white fog which falls in the morning hours to the earth. It must be so quietly in the space where me only darkness would surround. So quietly that one would hear falling a hair to ground and which allows wincing loudly impact one. And if I close now the eyes, I will forget, I can be fallen in this silence and no ground keeps open me, I fly through the room and there is no time, no thoughts, and no pain. I am alone, alone, only

ONLY?

A feeling of the fear crawls my body. Have I still escaped here or already from the reality? What if there is nobody more any more? What if me nobody keeps open? What will if you come home – you be able to see me? Back, I have to go back, back to myself?

Yelling, I must shout. It knots to me the throat, air, I need air. I tear open the door, run out on the street.

„I’M HERE, BETTE, HERE! “