2009: A Club Odyssey

"Keep breathing" said the man to the collapsed figure on the floor. "That's all you have to do."

He opened his eyes: a kindly man was asking him if he could move all his limbs, maybe sit up a little. "You're okay. But we've still got to get you to hospital. We'll help you out."

He is took weak to protest, but goes along, thinking: maybe she'll be there. In spirit, if nothing else.

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The club - ah, the club. The many faces, voiceless, the music deafening, defining. She knows his homing instinct. She is here to wait, to entertain and perhaps *be* entertained. She has been waiting a long time, though, and is worried that one push will cause an inner earthquake, cause a siege, break her down and flatten her out. There have been men; oh there have been men. Nevertheless, this is where she feels safe, and how right it would be to meet him here again; it is where they first met, after all.

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She sees one man succumb utterly to a woman without meaning to and thinks: it is so easy. It takes no thought; to get lost, to be with that other if the other is willing. She has something to drink and wonders just what, if anything, would happen if she was that woman; but the girl who is spinning with that man is free, has no purpose but to be free. "You're so lucky" she thinks aloud, blessing herself, blessing that girl. And waits.

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He is getting ready, walking, pacing morelike. He is not going home, most certainly not. He is a void waiting to be filled and a thirst waiting to be slaked; all he has to do is have the courage. She is tough, he's heard it said; a friend of a friend got approximately nowhere with her. Perhaps she is weak; weakened enough for that one moment. He thinks she is, is willing to try his luck against...what? Everyone knows he has gone and isn't coming back, no, no...

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She has composed herself for the night; she has armored herself and will find her man, will throw herself at him and dive in like he was a pool. That woman over there is content to wait, she thinks; but I am going to get him, whoever he is. Will him into existence? Why not? And I am the hottest here, the most irresistible, because of my armor. "You look...nice" she hears. And then smiles.

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The big men arrive, the players, the ones who have some consequence - they knew him, they are sure he will be back, talking casually amongst themselves as they check the girls out, flirt, give maybe a meaningful stare here or there. One of them gets a girl who is already tipsy in the corner rather more tipsy, and they disappear, he half-carries her away. She shakes her head and remembers when he did that...

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"Who in the hecking heck is that?" she asks the woman next to her. She inadvertently stops breathing for a moment; her right hand goes automatically through her hair.

"You need another pint of blood" said the nurse, eyeing his drip feed and agreeing to slow the rate down, as the fresh blood hurts him as it entered and swam into his system. "One more, yes" he said, feeling weaker than he would like.

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He looked a bit stupid, she thought; she didn't want to have anything to do with him, which of course made things worse as part of her most certainly did want something; she felt like an antenna, a phone, the buzz in her ears was ringing. I am safe for now, he hasn't noticed me...the other girls did though, the unattached ones, who wanted him because they wanted him; he was an object, a subject, a thing, and she could see him basking in this. It was ugly, seductive, and she hoped meanly he would go off with one of them, all of them. It didn't matter.

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Was he the enemy? She *could* dance and dance with him and walk that tightrope. Yes, she could. The music would save her; it was bigger than both of them. It vibrated through her, cleansing her in a way that was absolute. If she had to wait she was going to have fun, dammit, and if he wanted her, fine. FINE.

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Meanwhile he thought of her; it was hopeless. A machine beeped and another bleeped in the same rhythm; the blood dripped like a bassline, sleep carried him like water carries a boat. He wakes up kissing his pillow, holding it tight.

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(story to be continued next week...)