Bastard Freedom: Chapter 10

And, in the midst of the eternity of the hell of Hilbert’s Hotel Paradox, in the biggest of infinities in that set, Marie awoke.

To a bed empty, save her body. 

Oh gods, her body. She felt an impossible tightness in her jaw, and she knew two things: that she will not be able to speak for weeks, and that she had to go home. 

For her mind might not remember, but her body does, as only the body does. Coming home was the first and final intuition of the blind, undeniable, like the stars pulling her hair. The stars, ultimately, of the Eastern Hemisphere. She will obey.

Holding her forehead and seeing a careful bandage on it, she stood up. Dizzy on her legs, she started to try to recall what things she left in Joseph’s room: good; only her clothes. 

She walked stealthily amidst the organized man-clutter of the house, and found a piece of purple paper and a pen, knowing that, in a writer’s house, there will always be a pair strewn around carelessly like the panties of a lover, or a used condom. 

Irrationally, she thought of the metaphor: Why is it always panties and condoms?

She found him in his den, bent over his desk. Not daring to make a sound, she took in the sight of the lats that she has come to love, and the shoulders she has countlessly gripped and scratched as he pounded into her. He was writing, with his back on her. 

So would she: and, writing one word, and one word alone, she quietly closed the door.

Farewell.

In the tram home, she has successfully booked a flight to her fatherland. She will leave tomorrow.