Part 21

The escape

The thoughts are running through my mind. I am dead tired and nevertheless I can’t close my eyes. She wrote something, what keeps incessantly spinning in my head. „When she still feels for you she will understand.” Would you, Tina? I am not at all sure abut that. Understanding is the one thing, but would actually be able to feel something for me after all the time. The thought seems more than absurd to me. And nevertheless Losingthelight was not completely wrong. Of course I would like to know, how you are doing. I would gladly be a like a little unnoticed mouse, would risk a timid view from my mouse hole, would scent the smell of your proximity, hear the sound of your voice, watch you standing in the kitchen, making yourself some coffee and then pour him ritually into the cup. At night, when you’re asleep I would crawl into your bed and watch you sleeping, this peacefulness and silence, this security and warmth that you emit when you sleep. How often I have watched you at night in such a way and as if you felt it, you closely huddled against me, pulled my arm affectionately around your hip and gave me a tender kiss on my hand. Oh my God, Tina, I miss you so, so much in this instant, more than ever before. I would slightly touch you with my tiny whisker just to feel your gentle skin for a moment and take a deep breath with my little nose for I love the smell of your body. And then, then I would, for safety’s sake, before I fall asleep next to you on the cushion due to all the beatitude and before I would so suddenly be woken from Mr. Piddles morning whining, sorry Dana, run back into my mouse hole again, as fast as my small little legs can carry me, put myself into my little bed and peacefully fall asleep. I miss you so much.

The more I think about my crazy idea, to find in the most anonymous of all media, the Internet, in a notorious lesbian chat, in a discussion with a completely strange woman, advice, comfort and THE solution, the more irrational and at the same time incomprehensibly is my reaction on it now. This woman did not have the slightest notion of who I am, what I am, what I had done to you and nevertheless she claimed to be able to judge on what I had to do and even how you would react. And in all the chaos of feelings, in all this anonymity, between all those little lies, that you use in order to make yourself invisible, there is that little flame of truth, which seems to become larger and larger in me now, which forces me to understand, forces me to do something, anything, before it ate me up from the inside. How much is there still left of the former Bette? How much of the fire of love for you, which became the fire of hate against me? She said, I should send a letter, Tina, to tell you the truth. I’m not even sure whether you want to still hear it at all, whether you are interested in it at all, whether you… no, you haven’t, have you? You haven’t forgotten about me, not about us, have you? No, that can’t be true, that mustn’t be, is it?