Chapter 22
John’s body is tense, he is hardly breathing.
“So died esthanol. Amen”, I conclude
I expect John to say something, but he doesn’t.
“Are you satisfied, Mr. Journalist?”, I ask smiling
He shakes his head no, and I bug my eyes, teasingly.
“What else?”, I want to know
“Carlie Lester”, he replies
“What about her?”, I say
“You tell me”, John decides
My smile fades, and I bow my head.
“What is it, Iris?”, John asks, his tone changed
“Nothing. I will tell you what happened to Carlie Lester, but you won’t understand. You don’t understand me and you won’t understand her”, I state
“I know”, John admits, and when he says so I feel lonelier than I have ever felt sitting alone in this living room
“The summer was veering into fall, and the night was drenched in melancholy. My fridge was empty and I was starved. It was about midnight when I had stepped out of my place to buy some food in a 24 hrs shop few blocks away from my flat. I was walking back home when something captured my attention”, I recall
I am recounting the story for myself now, and when John speaks the sound of his voice resounds oddly in my living room. It seems alien to the place.
“What captured your attention?”, he asks
I shift my body on the couch and frown.
“Sorry”, John apologizes
“There was a homeless in a corner and he was looking up, his eyes intensely drawn to something. I followed his gaze, and saw her. She was wearing a black dress, fishnet stockings, red pumps. She approached the man and bent over him, her breasts ready to pour out of her tight dress at any moment. I’m back darling, she whispered. Then she moved his blanket slightly and slid under it, working her way on him till he started to moan. I observed the scene, mesmerized. When Carlie completed the task she got up, wrapped the blanket on the man’s body with care and left without a word”, I recollect
John is about to speak, but then he stops
“Carlie was walking away when our eyes met. She smiled from a distance, pondering options. I stood still, waiting for her decision. Then she walked towards me, and took my hand. ‘I think you deserve to see what you initiated’, she told me”, I recount, addressing John again
He senses the change in me.
“How did you feel?”, he asks, and I am so relieved he did
I sense the change in him, and the walls of solitude begin to melt in my renewed warmth
“I suppose I should say guilty, but it was not so. I was intrigued”, I say
“And you followed her”, John says
“I did. I’ve lost everything in life, Iris, Carlie told me, holding onto my hand. I nodded and she continued. I don’t deserve to live anymore. I want to destroy all of me, I want to melt into others, be what they need me to be. I don’t want to exist for myself anymore. These were her words”, I tell John
“Did Carlie try to commit suicide?”, he wants to know
I shake my head, smiling.
“No John, did you not listen to what I just said? She didn’t, not with a gun or by jumping a bridge. She died every time she made love to a man in the street, and she did so over and again, roaming the street at nights to efface her identity. And to punish herself endlessly, I suppose”, I explain
John is speechless
“Carlie had sex with all the homeless she found in the street?”, he asks at last
“Yes. Carlie donated joy to the rejected, free of charge”, I smile
John looks at me for a moment, and there’s curiosity and care in his eyes. Perhaps love.
“What about you, Iris?”, he wants to know