Selected Article

Monday, June 27, 2011

… Peaches … So she smells like peaches … [Part 3]

She liked American music, so whenever she was around, my stereo played CD’s of my favorite bands, and when she wasn’t, some of hers.
And here it is, the last part of this story. I hope you like the ending. For those of you who just tuned in, you can find the first two parts of the story right here. Cheers!
Monique, from the library, was a literary critic by day, and bartender by night. Quite an interesting match, “the best of both worlds” as she told me when she saw how shocked I was at her choice of career. Being in her company was bliss, I finally had someone to talk to, and she helped me learn French, his language, the language I had to speak as long as I wanted to be away from him. She also helped me get a job at the library, rescuing the remains of my savings: She managed to find out they needed someone to help reshelf the books, for what was more than enough to feed me and keep me busy, so soon enough I was part of the library staff. In return, I offered to introduce her to the American culture, through literature, music, and movies. Neither of us was really interested in language as much as in having someone to hang around with. She had just gotten out of a series of bad relationships, notably one that got her kicked out of her parents’ house in her early twenties. Bartending to keep her finances alive, she had picked up most of what she knows from meeting unfamiliar people, until her daytime readings got her a job at a local small time literary magazine. She liked American music, so whenever she was around, my stereo played CD’s of my favorite bands, and when she wasn’t, some of hers.

In my new life, Saturday night was Songs Night: One of our favorite games, in which we tried to write the lyrics of a song while it played, keeping up with the singer’s words as he sang.

It was our fifth Songs night, and it was raining. It was barely mid-autumn, but thunder was already challenging my stereo in a loud contest. Monique had successfully written Johnny Haliday’s 'Je vais t’aimer', and it was my turn. The random track selector on my stereo chose a Counting Crows track: ‘Hard Candy’. Although I hadn’t listened to that song for a while, as soon as the song started my pen went crazy with excitement, and I had very little delay on the song.

“… She is something altogether different, never just an ordinary girl …”

Monique, seeing I was up to her challenge, started making funny faces to confuse me. She got a smile, but I was on a roll

“…and it makes you feel alright, but it’s just the same hard candy you’re remembering again …”.

Monique had to dig deeper for the trick that would make me lose track of the song, so she climbed on the bed, and started dancing like she had gallons of beer in her blood. Nothing. I had lost during all four previous nights because of her clown-like tricks, this time, I was going to win, and I was riding on the perfect song.

“…you send your lover off to china, and you wait for her to call …”

Monique started pretending she was stripping her clothes off

“…you put your girl up on a pedestal and you wait for her to fall …”.

-Hah !! I knew that would work !! You’re losing. Five nights in a row baby … supreme champion of Songs night … Me !!!

She was bouncing on the bed in celebration, unaware of what had just happened. I grabbed my purse, put on the first pair of shoes I could grab and stepped out of the apartment. I headed to the drugstore to get some change, then a couple blocks down the street. It was raining and I was walking around in my night clothes and open-toed high heels. But I didn't care. I heard Monique shouting for me to come back from the apartment window, but I didn’t stop. The rain showed me no mercy and by the time I reached the payphone I was soaking wet and shivering. I slid the change into the phone and dialed the number. Through the receiver I could hear my own breath covering the faint beeping of the phone as it rang.

He picked up. Suddenly my breathing disappeared, and before he had the chance to say anything, I blurted out what had been on my mind all along:

“I love you. Did you ever cheat on me ?”

“Who is this ?”
It was a woman's voice at the other end.


THE END


Recommended media: Message Personnel - Francoise Hardy (song)

[image credit]

comments

June 27, 2011 at 8:43 AM Sareen

WHYYYYYYY!!!!! I hate you for ending the story like this!

June 27, 2011 at 9:30 AM Chantal Akkary

Oh nooooo..........what a shock it must be for her :(

June 27, 2011 at 2:11 PM Dory

Wow a great story Fadi...
you know sometimes the choices we take, the words we speak might push our love away
its kinda funny how things happens, you think u can move on;you think you can change ur mind of how it works... but it never will... except if it wasn't a true love

June 28, 2011 at 4:22 PM Marie Nakhle

Even though it's small story, it totally took me away into its world and made me picture the scenes sympathizing with that woman. Nice work!! Waiting for more stories

post a comment

Recently On Topic