- I failed, I know - she took a deep breath, trying to disguise the tears. - When I was a kid, I remember looking at you with those bitches, and all I could think was that I would be better for you.
- Better? - he asked, smiling as she couldn't see him, with her eyes looking down.
- Yes, you know... Well, I'd give you more than good sex and trouble, I kept promising to myself I'd be deserving of you, no matter how badly they used to talk of you. These women weren't good people, I could sense this, and none of them cared about you, not really, I'm sorry to say.
- You're being protective, once more - said him, and by the little tone of amusement that could be heard in his voice, she looked into him. In spite of trying to stay serious, she could see a smile in his eyes, a shadow of happiness and/or hope in those amazing blue eyes. Who saw him with that expression, could never guess how violent and angry he could be sometimes, but most of people didn't know him this way, the way she loved, the loving man with that ginger and nifty mustache, which could spend hours just stroking her hair, which was so slim and sleek as his that could be perfectly blended with his, as if it was only one's hair. The man who used that strong hands to stroke her with the same passion which he used on the piano... No, no one else knew this man, the man she truly love and that he always kept hidden to most of people. Perhaps, she had spent way too much time away from him, listening too much to people who just knew the bad side of him, and that was why she had made so many mistakes.
- I have to be protective, at least - she said, truly sad. - At least that, I owe you. And you don't even have to start to yell at me, I know quite well that all my mistakes are unforgivable, and I have been the greatest bitch you ever met, because you were never bad for me and yet I left you. I turned out to be even worse than those bitches I hated so much in my childhood, look at that - she gave a bitter smile, looking to the street, where people were walking completely not worried, all of them without a clue of how it was to be as sorry as she was. All she wanted to do was to go away, since she couldn't go back in time to fix it all up, and she knew that there was no hope of forgiveness, she didn't deserve it, and he was quite right at it. However, she wouldn't cry in front of him. She had came to tell him that she was finally aware of her own mistakes, and it was harder than she could imagine, but she did it. After a long silence, while she was deciding herself to go home, he said something, carefully.
- You're not worse. You're better.
She looked at him, thinking she had misheard his words. Yet, he was looking at her deeply, with some sort of hidden tenderness in his gesture.
- You don't have to try to make me feel better, my dear - she smiled, taking his hand. - Thank you a lot, but I know I'm the wrong one here.
She seemed very touched by what she thought that he had done, but she was wrong about his intentions.
- Yes, you're the wrong one here, but not about our past - he gave a little smile. - A bit, yes, but that's not what I'm talking about. You're wrong about all those bitches - they both laughed at the way he said that word -, because you are, yes, way better than they could ever be. None of them ever had the decency of coming here and admiting their mistakes, none of them ever loved me enough to understand my anger, my jealousy, and even less to care about how I was doing, after they had their lifes put back together. So, no, you're not like them. You are my true wife. You.
- What are you saying...? - asked her, almost without voice, her tears threatening to fall down her face at anytime. He pressed her hand gently, yet strongly, the hand in which their wedding's ring was still in. Suddenly, the little girl that used to say that she couldn't wait to grow up and marry him was there again; that little five years old child that loved the man he already was back then, and used to run happier than ever to his lap, everytime they met.
- I'm saying that I'm an old man - started him, surprisingly touched by everything -, just an old man who can't affort to keep his old and stupid pride. Yes, you've been a bitch, but I always loved bitches - she laughed, in discreet tears - and I know, I always knew that, if there's a woman who loves me, that would be you. It's odd, but I don't think I could ever regret this. So, all this bullshit is to say that I forgive you and, I don't really know if it was your intention, but I want you to come back home with me. I have a party to plan, you know, and I'll need your help.
She didn't have the courage to kiss him, because it was all too unreal for her to believe in. However, when he standed up, she embraced him, without letting him go as they went out of the coffee house and walked down the streets. As a little child, she kept holding him, as if he was a good dream that would flee away, so she hold him really tight against her, ignoring the rain, the people, everything. It was just a little rain, after all. And peace.
- Better? - he asked, smiling as she couldn't see him, with her eyes looking down.
- Yes, you know... Well, I'd give you more than good sex and trouble, I kept promising to myself I'd be deserving of you, no matter how badly they used to talk of you. These women weren't good people, I could sense this, and none of them cared about you, not really, I'm sorry to say.
- You're being protective, once more - said him, and by the little tone of amusement that could be heard in his voice, she looked into him. In spite of trying to stay serious, she could see a smile in his eyes, a shadow of happiness and/or hope in those amazing blue eyes. Who saw him with that expression, could never guess how violent and angry he could be sometimes, but most of people didn't know him this way, the way she loved, the loving man with that ginger and nifty mustache, which could spend hours just stroking her hair, which was so slim and sleek as his that could be perfectly blended with his, as if it was only one's hair. The man who used that strong hands to stroke her with the same passion which he used on the piano... No, no one else knew this man, the man she truly love and that he always kept hidden to most of people. Perhaps, she had spent way too much time away from him, listening too much to people who just knew the bad side of him, and that was why she had made so many mistakes.
- I have to be protective, at least - she said, truly sad. - At least that, I owe you. And you don't even have to start to yell at me, I know quite well that all my mistakes are unforgivable, and I have been the greatest bitch you ever met, because you were never bad for me and yet I left you. I turned out to be even worse than those bitches I hated so much in my childhood, look at that - she gave a bitter smile, looking to the street, where people were walking completely not worried, all of them without a clue of how it was to be as sorry as she was. All she wanted to do was to go away, since she couldn't go back in time to fix it all up, and she knew that there was no hope of forgiveness, she didn't deserve it, and he was quite right at it. However, she wouldn't cry in front of him. She had came to tell him that she was finally aware of her own mistakes, and it was harder than she could imagine, but she did it. After a long silence, while she was deciding herself to go home, he said something, carefully.
- You're not worse. You're better.
She looked at him, thinking she had misheard his words. Yet, he was looking at her deeply, with some sort of hidden tenderness in his gesture.
- You don't have to try to make me feel better, my dear - she smiled, taking his hand. - Thank you a lot, but I know I'm the wrong one here.
She seemed very touched by what she thought that he had done, but she was wrong about his intentions.
- Yes, you're the wrong one here, but not about our past - he gave a little smile. - A bit, yes, but that's not what I'm talking about. You're wrong about all those bitches - they both laughed at the way he said that word -, because you are, yes, way better than they could ever be. None of them ever had the decency of coming here and admiting their mistakes, none of them ever loved me enough to understand my anger, my jealousy, and even less to care about how I was doing, after they had their lifes put back together. So, no, you're not like them. You are my true wife. You.
- What are you saying...? - asked her, almost without voice, her tears threatening to fall down her face at anytime. He pressed her hand gently, yet strongly, the hand in which their wedding's ring was still in. Suddenly, the little girl that used to say that she couldn't wait to grow up and marry him was there again; that little five years old child that loved the man he already was back then, and used to run happier than ever to his lap, everytime they met.
- I'm saying that I'm an old man - started him, surprisingly touched by everything -, just an old man who can't affort to keep his old and stupid pride. Yes, you've been a bitch, but I always loved bitches - she laughed, in discreet tears - and I know, I always knew that, if there's a woman who loves me, that would be you. It's odd, but I don't think I could ever regret this. So, all this bullshit is to say that I forgive you and, I don't really know if it was your intention, but I want you to come back home with me. I have a party to plan, you know, and I'll need your help.
She didn't have the courage to kiss him, because it was all too unreal for her to believe in. However, when he standed up, she embraced him, without letting him go as they went out of the coffee house and walked down the streets. As a little child, she kept holding him, as if he was a good dream that would flee away, so she hold him really tight against her, ignoring the rain, the people, everything. It was just a little rain, after all. And peace.
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