Is it selfish to want him to be just my friend? A close friend.
Even though I care a great deal about him, I fear that’s not enough – not on his account, at least. He doesn’t have to tell me with words. His actions speak volumes about his love for me.
So, the question remains.
What other choice do I have?
“Rage, go to bed,” I order.
“No can do.”
“Why not?”
“We’re in the middle of something.”
“Rage, I’m in a safe house about to get my wound looked at, I feel fine, and we’re staying here for a few hours. There’s no point on you staying up. Go get some sleep,” I state clearly as he lets out a loud sigh. I can practically picture him rubbing his eyes right now. “Stop rubbing your eyes and go to sleep.”
“How the fuck?”
“We know each other, Rage. Maybe not as much as either of us would want, but enough to understand how the other behaves.”
“Fuck, kiddo, you are messing with my head.” There is a pleading note in his voice, and I can detect his broken heart from here.
“I know, and I’m sorry about that.” I stop there. I’m not going to tell him he’s doing that to my head, too. It doesn’t help our situation.
“All right. I’ll get some rest, but I’ll keep the comms open and loud. If you need anything, shout it out.”
“Go to bed already!”
Finally, the white noise coming from Rage’s mic stops, and it feels like something is missing or out of place.
I look up to see the woman returning, but to my surprise, she is wearing a pair of fashion-worn faded blue jeans with a Led Zeppelin T-shirt.
I speak to the Frenchman under my breath, “This is a surprise. I thought she was–”
“Hush!” The woman interrupts, “the walls have ears. Be careful with what you say all the time around here.”
Now that I can properly see her face, I notice how beautiful she really is.
“You remind me of Esmeralda,” I tell her as she sits beside me and organizes her things.
She has curly black hair, green eyes and her skin is tanned.
“Esmeralda?” she fires back.
“Yeah, the Hunchback of Notre Dame’s girlfriend.”
The Frenchman laughs as their eyes meet; I think there’s more between them than they let on.
“Well, she wasn’t exactly his girlfriend.”
“Thanks, I guess. I haven’t watched the movie.” She lifts my T-shirt and exposes the wound. It looks worse than the last time I checked. “This will leave a mark.”
“Really?”
“Well yeah, look at the shape of it.” She waves at my waist.
“No, I meant the movie. You really haven’t watched it?”Esmeraldaoffers The Bedouin a puzzled look. “Isn’t it like your nation’s calling card?”
