Oh, God, these suitcases are insanely heavy! Sweat is pouring out of every pore.
All the vodka I drank is sliding down from my head into my knees. I'm trying not to drop dead before we make it to the front desk.
In the end, the formalities go fast. We get to the room and I flop into an armchair like a wet rag. I quietly wait for death. Mission accomplished.
"You're kind of limp," she says. "What's with you? Why are you wheezing like that?"
"I'm not really used to physical exercise," I hiss, shooting her a murderous look.
"Come on, I'll make it up to you. I saw a coffee machine in the hallway. Want one?"
We drink our coffee in silence. Way too much silence. I can feel the tension in the room, and suddenly I realize I'm the reason.
"Come on, stop making that worried face," I tell her at last. "I'm harmless. I promise I'll finish my coffee and leave."
"Don't talk nonsense," she answers, visibly relieved. "Actually, what's your story? Clear things up for me before you go."
I tell her, in a few words, how I've spent the last twenty-four hours.
"So that's how it is," she concludes.
"Exactly. It looks like the bartenders, hotel owners, and taxi drivers in this town are all conspiring against me. And on top of that, I'm way behind on sleep. I'll probably pass out right here in this armchair, coffee in hand. Ah, for fuck's sake, stop making that face! I was joking. Don't you get jokes?"
"No, you weren't joking."
"Mmm... fine, I wasn't. I was just testing your reaction. We could have split the room bill fifty-fifty. But now it's late. I changed my mind."
"I'm perfectly capable of paying for my own room," she says, irritated.
"So am I," I snap. "I'm tougher than you. I can even pay for two rooms. I've got sixty thousand dollars."
"Sure you do," she says, bored. "More like sixty thousand kicks in the ass."
"Uh... believe whatever you want. I'm out of energy."
"Okay, I believe you. You're an eccentric millionaire who spends his time in airports trying to hit on helpless women."
"Is that how it looks? Like I tried to pick you up?"
"Of course. You're tagging along after me, hauling my bags, and you want us to split a hotel room."
"No, it's not like that. Not at all!"
"Oh yes, it is," she says, giggling. "Remember? You told me I was special. And for the last hour you've been devouring me with your eyes."
"Me? That's a lame joke. I'm devouring you with my eyes?"
"Yes, you. Back in the airport, outside while we were smoking, and here. One more step and you're going to jump me. But I'm warning you," she adds suddenly, dead serious, "your little Don Juan tricks won't work on me. I'm not what you think I am."
We stare at each other. Seconds pass. Either I have a stupid face, or I've just met the most paranoid woman in town.
"All right, dear. I'm a serial rapist. You got me. Congratulations!"
I stub out my half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray with disgust, then get up and walk out into the hallway without even looking at her. What an idiot! Fucking idiot! "Devouring her with my eyes"!
I wait for the damned elevator and I wait and wait. In the end I give up on the elevator. The anger is buzzing in my head like a beetle, then the buzzing fades and I start laughing like an idiot at how ridiculous this is. What the hell do I even want from this woman? Have I gone crazy? What, there are no other rooms in this hotel?
Fuck it! Fuck this goddamn elevator. Where are the stairs? I'll take the stairs.
"Feeling better, my good man?" She appears. She's right next to me. "I know you lose your temper fast!" She takes me politely by the arm and drags me back into the room. "If I upset you, sorry," she goes on in an indifferent tone. "And don't sulk like that. Truth is, I don't know anyone in this town and I'm kind of scared of situations like 'Let's split the room bill fifty-fifty!' Look, we started our friendship off on the wrong foot. You're a bit of a jerk, but I admit you do have an honest face, not a suitcase-snatcher face."
"And not a serial-rapist face either?" I ask sharply.
"No. So I'm going to accept your offer. We'll split the room bill."
"I'm thrilled," I say coldly.
"Me too. You can sleep on the side by the door. There's a bit of a draft over there. But I have one condition."
"What would that be?"
She gives me a half-smile and points at the bathroom door.
"Go take a shower."
"Why?"
"Because you stink."
I love it when women talk in riddles, so I shrug, resigned, and head to the bathroom.
I think it's two in the morning. Something like that.
I fumble around for the lamp, then give up. I try to find the bathroom in the dark. I'm dead tired, but if I don't take a piss now, something inside me is definitely going to explode.
My roommate was kind enough to lend me a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I'll try not to splash them too much.
I look in the mirror. With these clothes on I look like a woman with broad shoulders and a buzz cut. Great, I'm going to have nightmares!
I grumble my way back and lie down. I fall asleep instantly, but an elbow in my ribs wakes me up just as fast.
"Either you flush after you pee, or you flush after you pee. Pick one."
I pick flushing.
What the hell! Of course I always flush after I pee, you cow! This time I just didn't want to wake you up. I did it for you. But fine! I'll get up every hour to pee and flush as loud as possible. Hope you're happy!
I crawl back into bed, repentant, and doze off. For about five seconds.
"Did you know you fart in your sleep?" she asks loudly, rolling from her left side to her right.
"Amazing!" I mumble, eyes closed. "I really didn't know. Next time I'll listen more carefully to myself while I'm sleeping."
I feel the bed rocking under me.
"Yeah, you do that, you listen. And to complete the picture, you talk in your sleep too."
"Fine. Please, send me an email with everything you don't like about me. I'll read it tomorrow morning when I wake up. I mean this morning, for fuck's sake!"
"You're still an asshole," she concludes, turning onto her left side again. The bed creaks and groans.
"Sorry, angelic and immaculate being that you are! I humbly admit I fart in my sleep and I admit that sometimes I talk in my sleep too. Yes, I'm deeply sorry for that. Can I sleep now? I paid for half a room and half a creaky bed. And as a bonus, I flushed the toilet."
"You haven't paid anything yet," she giggles. "I haven't seen a cent from you, so you're at my mercy. If I want, I can kick you out of this room right this second. Want to see?"
I open my eyes. It's hard to get used to the dark in the room. After a few seconds I see her back. She's wearing striped pajamas, but I can't quite tell what color the stripes are.
"So you want me to leave?" I ask, half-asleep.
"I was joking," she giggles. "But you woke me up when you went to the bathroom and now I can't fall back asleep. And since I can't sleep, we might as well talk, right?"
"Have a little chat in the middle of the night?"
"Uh-huh. Shall we?"
"Oh, God, no! In the morning I have to wake up and decide if I'm going to Dubai or Thailand. I need a clear head."
"Dubai? Hee hee... You're such a liar!"
"Believe what you want. Anyway, since you're awake, I'm going to take advantage of it and ask you..."
"What?"
"You don't have a little... something strong in those big suitcases of yours, do you?"
"No."
"I could've sworn you didn't."
"Why?"
"Because you don't seem like the type who hits the bottle. Actually, you seem like a very well-behaved woman."
"I seem well-behaved?" she squeaks, amused.
"Very. An innocent, well-behaved fifty-year-old girl."
I can feel her starting to boil like a cauldron. The bed starts to shake. She's about to blow.
"Well, buddy, for your information, I have a bottle that's completely full. It's untouched, sealed, and packed full of..."
"Yeah, right, cut it out."
"I'm serious! It's a traditional Austrian drink. I bought it in Vienna. It's called Marillenschnaps and apparently it's some kind of apricot brandy."
"Shove it somewhere!"
"What did you say?" she yells, half sitting up.
"Sorry, I have Tourette's. It slipped out."
"I dare you to repeat that!" she threatens, choking with anger. "Go on, try it, you boor!"
"You're so sensitive! You forget that in this town I'm your best friend. Your only one."
"Really? So what's my name, if you're my friend?"
"Your name is... I forgot."
"See how pathetic I am? I'm in a foreign town, in a foreign hotel, in a foreign bed with a foreign man who doesn't even know my name."
"Yeah... not going to argue."
"Am I stupid or what? Of course I am! Why? Why?"
"Talk a little quieter. They're going to throw us out of the hotel. Why... what?"
"Why you don't even know my name."
"Well, I don't know why I don't know. But you're a woman, which means you're smart, so enlighten me. Why don't I know your name?"
"Because," she says clearly, "you're such a pig you didn't even have the decency to ask."
"You're right. Actually, what really eats at you is that I said you were fifty."
"I don't even care about those fifty years. Even though, honestly, I'm not fifty. But who cares? Age is just a number. Numbers only matter if you decide they do. What hurts is that you didn't have the decency to ask who you're sharing a bed with. That, yes! That's what I care about."
"Fine. Turn your face toward me for a second. I want to ask you something."
"I don't want to see your face. Has anyone ever told you that you've got a face that's asking to be punched?"
"Bless you! If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I'd be doing pretty well."
"And you're annoying."
"You're contradicting yourself. Earlier you said I looked honest and I wasn't a suitcase thief. Anyway. So this whole scene is just because I didn't ask your name? Fine, I'll ask."
"Ask!"
"What's your name, Ana?"
"Excuuuse me?"
She jumps out of bed like a cat and stares at me.
"How do you know my name is Ana?"
"I guessed."
"No way! You're lying! You're going to tell me right now how you know my name is Ana, or else..."
"Okay, okay. And after that everything will be quiet again and you'll let me sleep?"
"I don't know. We'll see."
"You'll let me take a little nap? Yes or no?"
"Fine, I'll let you. I promise!"
"Your name is written on the tag on that giant suitcase. Thanks for your attention, Ana! Good night, Ana! Sleep well, Ana!"
I don't get to fall asleep.
"Hey," she whispers. "One more question and then I'll let you sleep."
"But you already promised you'd let me sleep. Are you a kid? What the fuck? If I answer, then you'll ask something else and then something else and so on. Come on, be fair! You prom--"
"Yes, yes, but just one question and that's it."
I get out of bed in a rage, turn on the light, and grab my clothes from the armchair. I get dressed, put on my boots. I tie my bootlaces carefully. It must be really cold outside. A hat would probably help too. I'll definitely buy one, if I find a store that sells hats open at two in the morning.
"What are you doing?" she asks, dazed.
"Can't you see? I'm leaving."
"Just like that? At this hour?"
"Two a.m. is as good a time to leave as any other. When you have to go, you go."
"Aha. It's a principle, huh? A typically male thing."
"Yeah, typically male."
"Your wife must be thrilled to have such a principled husband."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, your wife. You know, the poor woman waiting for you at home while you're picking up chicks in airports. You think I didn't notice the ring mark on your finger?"
I look at her with pity. Why are there so many idiots who go into ecstasy and tell themselves, "Wow, life is so beautiful! It's worth living!"?
That's not true! Life is absurd!
It's... diabolical.
This woman came at me straight from Hell. She's not a woman. She's the devil disguised as a woman.
I sit down in the armchair and light a cigarette. I blow the smoke toward the ceiling and watch it calmly. Time moves slowly.
"Go on, ask," I say peacefully. "What did you want to know? What was the question?"
"What your name is. That's all."
"That's your biggest worry? What my name is?"
"Yes."
"If I tell you, does that help you somehow?"
"It helps."
"How?"
"So I know who you are."
"But why do I absolutely have to know who you are and why do you have to know who I am? You planning on marrying me?"
"I'm not that stupid."
"Good! Because I don't want to marry you either."
"I'm glad we cleared that up, Mr. X. I was scared. For a moment there, I actually thought you were going to propose."
"When did you think that? When I went to take a piss, or while I was asleep and farting?"
"No need to be vulgar, okay? Ah, sorry, I forgot you're a man."
"Sorry I lost my temper," I say, sighing, "but – I don't know why – I have this weird feeling I'm married to you. That's what it feels like. All this crap you're putting me through reminds me of things I've already been through hundreds of times."
"So you're married after all," she says, satisfied. "Got you. Come on, admit it!"
"I'm not married, Ana. But I was. A few times."
"A few times?"
"That's exactly what I said, isn't it?"
"And what happened? Where are your wives, sir?"
"I don't want to talk about that."
"I'm not dying to, either."
"Good then, Ana. Anything else you want to know before I get up from this armchair and walk out of your room and your life?"
"You still haven't told me your name."
God, for fuck's sake, how stupid women are! This one, at least, is like a broken record: "What's your name? What's your name?"
I mean... not all of them are stupid, but most are. Especially the special ones.
Fine. I'll run a little experiment right now: if I can make her pull out that Austrian brandy and give it to me, it means all the women in the world are stupid and they deserve their fate.
"Okay, Ana. Here's the deal... You take that bottle out of your suitcase and I'll tell you my name."
"Ha, ha! You're hilarious. Forget it. I'll pass. Ha, ha, ha! Have a nice trip."
Well, there you go... people make mistakes. She's not that stupid. I stagger out into the hallway and call the elevator. This time it comes.
"Here, come get your damned swill!" Ana's disgusted voice calls out. "Come on, get back in here!"
I walk back into the room, victorious. The door slams behind me. Women are so stupid! Oh, yes! Stupidity is written into their genetic code.
"You sure took your time, Ana," I say, smiling.
"I was going to give it to you anyway, but I wanted to run a little experiment."
"Excuse me? An experiment?"
"Yeah. I told myself all men have shitty character and they're all pigs. So... I decided that if I called you to come get the bottle and you didn't come back, that would mean you're the only man who deserves my respect. Sorry, buddy! You just failed the test."
"No big deal. Screw the test. You called, I came! Hand over the bottle!"
"Not yet. What's your name?"
I'm going to kill her. Seriously!
"My name is Tiberiu," I say, sighing.
"Tiberiu what?"
"Just Tiberiu."
"You think you're clever?" she growls. "What's that? You only gave me half."
"That means I only deserve half of your schnapps. You'll drink the other half."
"What time is it?" she suddenly asks.
"Who cares what time it is?" I say as I unscrew the cap on the schnapps. "Mmm... smells good."
"I care. It's too early to drink."
Look at that! Great! At least she's not an alcoholic. That counts for something.
"But," she goes on, "I'll make an exception. Just this once."
For fuck's sake!
"Fine, fine," I say gloomily, handing her a glass. "Cheers, Ana, and may there always be more!"
We clink glasses. Surprise! This piss is actually pretty good.
"I wonder what your sister's going to say when she shows up and we burp schnapps in her face?"
"I'm not sure what she'll say, but my brother-in-law won't be happy at all. It was his gift. Cheers to you too, Tiberiu, terror of the airports."
"Thanks, babe!" I say, in a good mood. "To your health! Want another glass?"
"Don't you?" she asks, smiling.
"Hmm... you trying to get me drunk? Not going to work. You'll be the first to go down. Women can't hold their liquor."
She glares at me, then grabs the bottle out of my hand and pours herself a full glass. She drinks it slowly, but she keeps her eyes on me the whole time. What a girl.
The alcohol restores peace in the room. I don't even think about leaving anymore. I undress and get into bed.
The wall clock says four-oh-five. There's still time to catch a bit of sleep.
Ana gets into bed too, oddly quiet. The room is calm and sooo peaceful. I'm out like a light.
Around four-twenty I take an elbow to the mouth.
At four-twenty-five her snoring rattles the windows and wakes me up. I roll her onto her stomach and things calm down a bit.
Unfortunately, around four-thirty her head settles sweetly onto my shoulder and I feel a hand stroking me between the legs.
I raise both hands.
One thing's clear! That one down there isn't mine.