(text inspired by the last turnip with Jennifer Aniston, Thunderbolt Seattle )
was there for years now. And yet it seems like yesterday. The accident, I mean. It's strange, before him I had never had an accident, not even a broken finger, and after I became so cautious that a new tragedy was not merely the result of chance or bad luck, but nice property that an outright curse.
was Friday. I remember because I always bring Eleanor Friday night at a theater or restaurant, even the movies then restaurant. Designs were discussed, and details of the actors sipping red wine in a French or Italian restaurant. It was our ritual. I thought on Saturday morning and throughout the week until Friday.
Ellie was not very feminine. When I met her, she wore baggy trousers and a sweater inform, and it intrigued me at first glance. During our first night, I knew I fell love with her: she was a witch, a sorceress. The day she was hiding under the cloth of his garments the fabric of her skin, peach skin, and shiny, and silky. That evening, she removed one by one her petals, as if I blew on a dandelion to undress his egrets.
It was not very feminine, but Friday night it came a beautiful red dress, one of the few in his locker. She assumed that I preferred and, awkwardly ensconced in that dress peony, too big for her. The fact is, I did not care I was crazy about her. And each time, during the movie, I held not to waltz that damn dress over her head.
This Friday there it was cold and dark, it was January and the drifts of snow thickened on each side of the road. We heard owls hooting in the trees. In the car Ellie and I were talking eagerly, and her cheerful cheeks crimson with the cold; me grumpy, watching a sore throat that would not be necessary. Blossomed between our mouths wide and heavy plumes of white steam, evanescent. I think I remember we were arguing politely about the color of the kitchen, she saw me yellow and blue. She insisted, saying that the trend was yellow this year and it was a color mat, I retorted that time as an interior decorator I knew a little more on that matter.
And then, inexplicably, she screamed. For a split second, I frowned, what happens there? And Ellie yelled: " Davy! "and I turned my eyes on the road. There, at least twenty meters from the bumper - I've never been good at judging distances - a deer stood impassively, his head turned sideways, her eyes wide open, enlightened by the acuity bright headlights. The perfect caricature of the innocent little deer caught in the headlights, in the end. The next split second, I thought that Ellie would say in other circumstances, "oh he's cute this deer! "Would she said in a shrill little voice, with her large hazel eyes wide open. And then she would have done anything to bring him back to the apartment quietly, like last time with the squirrel she had found in the park.
think such a thing got me a smile, but it was not funny, it did not have time to be. Impulsively I turned the wheel, which took my breath away in less than a second. Everything happened very quickly. So, so fast.
Ellie screamed, and I could not, I felt the cry swell in my throat but I could not loosen his lips. Ellie screamed and it seemed to me screaming for hours, but it only lasted a short time, indeed the cry ceased when the car was wrapped around a pole and I felt the windshield burst and blood running down my face. I opened my eyes very quickly, too quickly. I should keep them closed longer, and perhaps never open them again.
My nose was bleeding and he was surely broken. By turning my head towards Ellie, have cracked bones in my neck but I did not pay attention. His eyes stared at me. Those of Ellie. Empty eyes, dead eyes. I was panting like a dog panting. I left the car, I called for help to the keys on my laptop smashed. I could not think, tell me she was gone, she was dead . She has to take a hit, the relief will come, they will help us, everything will be fine. I tried to remain hopeful. Then I heard a noise near the roadside, and I finally looked up. Was deer, the deer's asshole. He looked at me with her big eyes and I thought I detected something in his eyes, something I was unable to define its nature.
crew were rescued and brought us to the hospital. On my bed I thought about the deer. After the second day, I found: it was an accusing gaze, eyes filled with death, to the brim.
When the doctor came with the new paint on the face, I knew I was right.
The funeral was simple. No frills, like Ellie. Every night I dream of a deer tells me you're a murderer, Davy a murderer, and I tell myself that he may be right.
And I get up, unable to sleep. I get a cup of tea. I look at the framed photos in the lounge on the wooden chest. The house is empty. I'm all alone, and expect that deigns to boil water. But I wait patiently. After all, this is just yet another cup of tea in the middle of the night, all alone, standing in the kitchen. In the kitchen yellow.
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