“MARGUERITE” AND “CONSTANTIN”

We are standing, “Marguerite” and I in a strange hallway. I was begging with Marguerite.

“Please, don’t see him again. You’ll only get hurt. He’s an asshole- you know that. He’s not worth this.”

Marguerite turns her round distressed blue eyes to me. She has thick long hair the colour of honey, the kind of colour Iranian women spend hundreds of dollars and hours of time to achieve, and never can. “I can’t help it. You don’t understand. Maybe he’ll change his mind. I’ve got to try.” She walks away from me, toward a shadowy young male figure coming into the hallway. My stomach knots with misery and fear. I know it is “Constantin”, Marguerite’s ex-boyfriend who dumped her in a brutal and humiliating manner only last week, after swearing undying love to her. I know Marguerite is going to beg and try to get him back, and I know he is going to take advantage of her vulnerability and clinginess, and rape her. Don’t ask me how I know, this is a dream, and the only reality is that ‘Constantin’ dumped ‘Marguerite’, and Marguerite cried for a week, during exam time, at the end of the semester. What a jerk.  She had cried in my office too, on Wednesday, and then laughed and said she was over it.

I am speaking to Constantin. Marguerite is not in the room, but I know she will come in soon. “You can’t do this to her. Go away, now. Before she comes back.”

He laughs. He looks like Justin Bieber, except with streaky blond hair and harsh bright blue eyes. (I have never seen the real ‘Constatin’, only heard of him through Marguerite). “Look, A- it’s none of your business, B-She’s begging for it, C- it’s the only way I’ll get out of my hair. Otherwise she’ll be up my ass forever.”

I shudder, at the harshness of his language, at fear and distress at what he’s going to do her. I’m speaking to another colleague, and the words echo and stretch like glue  “He’s going to rape her… there’s nothing we can do…

I jerk out of my dream-nightmare. I curse myself. Never again. The next time a girlfriend opens her mouth and starts talking of her boy troubles, I swear I’m going to scream and smash my keyboard in her face, ram a pencil up her nose. Never again.

One comment

  1. Pingback: ETHICAL BLOGGING « Thenewcomer's Weblog

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