HELPING (Y)OUR JIMMY #4

Meanwhile, in a cocktail bar in Charing Cross, three girls were talking excitedly between them, waiting for their drinks. They didn’t seem to have a lot in common, but all of them, everyone in her own different way, were expressing the same feeling: astonishment.
Ok, well, not all of them, just two: one was totally keeping a straight face, not showing the minimum surprise but a bit of an “I-told-you” expression at most. Typical of Michelle. Anyway, these three women were…uh, sorry, I forgot to tell you! It’s always me, Pete, Pietro speaking. I guess I’m going to be the principle narrator of this story, since I’m pretty familiar to the protagonists. You may wondering how could I recount exactly what had happened to the other people, while I wasn’t with them. Well, the truth is I have a secret quite reliable informant, at the moment I’m telling you this story, so…but let’s proceed in the right order. You’ll be able to discover my secret later on. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, at the cocktail bar in Charing Cross.
“Would you ever imagined it?”
“Gee, not really! It happen so sudden, so fast!”
“Yes indeed! I mean, it wasn’t so unlikely that it’d be happen, sooner or later. But, you know…certainly not that soon!”
“Yes, that’s the point. I think — ”
“— it was a bit of a rush, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it totally was. As a matter of fact —“
“Totally, it totally was. He’d better wait a little bit more, say, don’t know, ‘nother year or so. Not that soon, anyway. God, six months! What was he thinking about? Did he expected her to break down in cry and hug him and kiss him and simply say ‘yes’? What did he think?”
“Well, yes, probably…they were actually eight months, anyway —“
“Six, eight, whatever. Too soon still. Little fool of him, wasn’t it? I mean, how much did they know each other for, nine month? Eight and a half? Emily dated him little by little from the beginning, so that it was obvious that she hadn’t that strong attraction towards him. And even though, they didn’t have time enough as to get to know one another well, I mean, deeply, isn’t it? Not mentioning that they’d not even passed so much time in each other’s apartment, so that they hadn’t the slightest idea of how’d it be living together. I mean, look at them: their story had just began! What was he thinking about? Uh? What about you, Chelle?”
Michelle Ȃmeplastique stopped glaring at the ceiling, her brown eyes rolled, and look at her two friends sitting in front of her, her face still unmoved.
“I suppose that it wasn’t a matter of time, but a matter of Emily’s will instead”.
Lucy Pepper and Abigail Road thought for a second and nodded in agreement, Lucy’s big eyes opened with overcome understanding and Abigail’s lips pursed and her mouth shut for once.
“And however, what happen to Darlene?”, continue Michelle to change the subject.
“Oh, right, Lene! She’s almost twenty mins late”, said Abigail quickly taking a glance at her inseparable thin golden watch. “It’s not very like her to be so late, is it? May she find herself stuck into traffic? Anyway, she’ll get here anytime. Do you know if she heard the new? Of Emily and Jimmy breaking up after he proposed to her, I mean?”

***

“You did WHAT???”, I exclaimed astonished at Jimmy. “You asked Emily to marry you???”.
Jimmy rolled his eyes a bit of annoyed and took the bottle of beer off of his lips, his other hand’s palm on the kitchen-table of his messy flat and his back leaned against the chair in a defensive position.
“Mph, yes, I told you. I proposed to her. So what? We’ve been dating for quite a year, and I loved her, so what’s wrong with it?”
“For only six months, you meant —”
“EIGHT months —“
Eight months, alright. But even so…what did you expected?? Were you really so sure of her to say ‘yes’ without any hesitation?”
“Well, no, ‘course not, but…you know…neither to deny with that fucking decisiveness!” Jimmy shouted, slamming the beer bottle over the table and shaking his head in that hysterical way he used to when he was very angry at something he couldn’t conceive. Than he stood still, his hands on the table one of them grabbing the beer, staring at some indefinite point over the old formica table of his kitchen. He even started to tremble a bit, just a bit, as if his heart had fall in pieces again, and was still vibrating after the first big stroke. It was definitively a dramatic, I mean, really, a DRAMATIC moment. A heavy silence grew up between us, Jimmy temporary out of himself while I didn’t dare to speak first. And then it happened: I started to tremble, too. Not that much, just a bit; as in a sort of empathic connection to the pain and struggling of my dear friend. You should have seen him…I mean, try to visualize: a tall, strong Irishman, in an old black wrinkled t-shirt – I saw a big hole under his left arm – which emphasized the strong contrast between his pale skin and his dark, long, dirty and incredibly ruffled hair. The portrait of a Romantic maudit poet from the XIX century; miserable, suffering, messy. As he shook his head that jerky way, with his hair convulsively going everywhere upon his face while some remaining straight upon his head, his brows furrowed in anger and despair forming a furry black “V” letter, his lips tight hard as he had just bitten a lemon, well…I couldn’t resist to the imagine that suddenly took form into my mind. I tried to control it, I swear really did; but it was too late. He looked totally like Ludwig Van Beethoven, and as soon as I realized it, my quiver became impossible to hide.
“Wait a second…are you laughing?”, asked Jimmy, his eyes narrowed in venomous slits.
“Mpff…no! Not at…pffff…at all, really, Jim, is, pff…is not what you —“
“YOU DAMB LANGER!! YOU’RE TOTALLY LAUGHING, you fucking bastard!! My friend…You’re supposed to be my friend!! This is a fucking tragedy, to me, and you fucking find it FUNNY!”, yelled Jimmy mad at me. Then he shook again his head even more hysterically, scowled and red-faced, and as a result he seem to me far more comical and funny, so that my tremor increased until I couldn’t hold it back any further and I eventually burst out laughing.
“Sorry mate, really”, I managed to say within the shivers. “I didn’t mean I find you situation, erg, any funny. I don’t know why am I —“, and I cracked up again.
Jimmy continued to fix me angrily; but his rage started to evanish as my clumsy attempts to control me had made my laughing clumsier with hips and sighs making me, this time, comic and funny. He gave up at least when some beer went out of my nose after I tried to take a sip – I highly reckon not to do it at home -, and gave at least a loud laugh too.
We went on like this for a while, ‘till we found it difficult to breath. I felt a new hope for my friend, a new hope for tomorrow. A new hope for the night, since, if you don’t remember, I was supposed to spend it with the two hot American boobies.
“Ahah…you see, Jim? You’re laughing into tears. Feels good, doesn’t it? You see, mate: all you need is some fun. Not love.”
“Ya…some fun…maybe you’re right”, answered Jimmy. “Some fun. Some laugh —”.
Then suddenly his lower lip begin to tremble, and he pursed again his lips into sorrow. ‘Oh no, not this again’ I thought. But he was faster, and suddenly started to moan again.
“Peeeeeeeteeeee!!! Ooooh…Peeeeeteeeee!! Why did she did this to me?? Why did she refused me?? I feel sooo miiiiiserableee!! Ooooh…shit!!”. He was shaking his head again, waving his messy black hair at every sob. “Want…want to know what Emily did when I proposed to her? D’you want to know it??”
“Sure, Jim, okay, I guess…What did she do?”
“She…she….”, a long shake of his head. “SHE BURST INTO LAUGHTER!!!”.

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