Loneliness. Chicago.





And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….



He woke with a start and looked around, confused and disoriented for a moment. In the first light of dawn the objects in the room looked dim in the outline, shapeless. Just a second ago, yet still in his sleep he knew exactly who had waken him up. Knew who was at his bed gently pulling his hand. Tata, get up….

He sat up, hiding his face in his hands. The pain was back, the everyday pain of waking up alive.

It was hot and stuffy in the room. He didn’t remember closing the window, he never did. It must have been her. She… what was her name? What was it?!…He rubbed his temple with his finders. Headache. Only headache, no memories. She breathed heavily in her sleep, a young rather plump Latino woman. Her black hair lay loose on the pillow and her back. It seemed to him that her body radiated heat. He got up, walked three steps to the window, opened it and stood there for a while, absorbing fresh air with every cell of his body. She stirred, awkwardly pulling the blanket on with her left hand.

He left the window open and went into the kitchen, naked and bared footed, appreciating the chill of floor tiles. The kitchen table was in a mess, the remains of their night snack disgustingly sprinkled with ashes of her cigarettes. He opened the fridge, anticipating though that there was little hope of finding anything to drink. His expectations met by the emptiness, he opened the tap and drank water from his cupped palms. It had a revolting taste of rusty metal in it. As he fought with a spell of nausea there came a muffled sound of his pager from somewhere in the room. The sound, an annoying ringing, was increasing with every second.

- Shit, - the woman muttered raising her head.

With her eyes half open she watched as he roamed through the pile of clothes on the floor but then her head fell back on the pillow with yet another ‘shit’.

He finally found the pager, only to make it shut up, as he knew it could be nothing else than ER. Still not bothering to put any clothes on, he took the phone and dialed ER number. It was Randi’s voice there. He didn’t concentrate on whatever she was saying as the excuse. The reason they wanted him earlier was of no importance whatsoever. He confirmed that he was coming, a.s.a.p. indeed, put the phone back on the floor next to the bed and went into the bathroom.

By the time he was back, fully awake, with a bath towel wrapped round his hips, she had pulled the blanket and her sweater over her, hiding from the chilly air.

- Hey, - he said. – hey, get up. I have to go to work.

- Whatthehell….

Finally, when he was already dressed, having kept pushing her every other second, she got up and pulled her clothes on, grumbling quietly. She was young, but not even pretty. He hesitated, considering giving her a lift, but then rejected the idea as the way too time consuming. Instead, he took a few banknotes from his wallet.

- Take a taxi

He felt awkward giving her money, but she didn’t mind in the slightest. The fact even seemed to cheer her up a bit as she finally looked awake.

- Thanks. Hey, what language were you talking? – she asked.

- When?

- In sleep.

He felt suddenly numb, felt blunt pain finding its way to his heart.

- None of your business. Move.

- I just asked…