Happy People Read and Drink Coffee by Agnès Martin-Lugand Page B

hand and added a smile. I ordered a glass of red wine and paid for my drink right away, then sat down at a respectable distance from my neighbor.
    He was scowling even more than usual; I must have really got on his nerves. He was fiddling with his lighter, his jaw clenched. He drank his first beer all at once, then ordered another with a nod of the head. He stared at me. I raised my glass to him and took a sip. It was all I could do not to spit it out. The wine, if you could really call it that, was undrinkable. A knowledgeable wine merchant would have sooner recommended a cheap local wine in a plastic bottle. What was I thinking? That I’d be served a good vintage wine in this godforsaken Irish hole where no one drank anything but Guinness and whisky? Still, it didn’t stop me looking defiantly at Edward.
    This little game lasted a good half an hour. I finally won when he stood up and headed for the door. I’d just won a battle; I had accomplished something that day.
    I waited a few minutes before leaving. Night had fallen; I pulled up the collar of my coat. It was the end of October and you could feel the first signs of winter coming on.
    â€œJust as I thought,” a hoarse voice said.
    Edward was waiting for me next to my car. He was alarmingly quiet.
    â€œI thought you’d gone home. Don’t you have any pictures to develop?”
    â€œYou made me ruin a whole roll of film today, so don’t talk to me about my work. You probably don’t even know what it means to work.”
    Without giving me a chance to reply, he kept talking.
    â€œI don’t need to know you to see that you do nothing all day long. Don’t you have any family or friends who want you to get back?”
    Fear made me stammer; he was back in control.
    â€œNo, obviously not! Who’d want anything to do with you? There’s nothing interesting about you. You must have had a guy, but I bet he died of boredom . . .”
    My hand flew up by itself. I hit him so hard that his head fell to the side. He rubbed his cheek and smirked.
    â€œSo I’ve hit a nerve?”
    I was breathing more quickly; tears came to my eyes.
    â€œI see. He didn’t want anything to do with you any more. He was right to dump you.”
    He was blocking my car.
    â€œGet out of my way,” I said.
    He grabbed my arm to hold me back and stared straight into my eyes.
    â€œDon’t ever do that again. And get yourself a ticket home.”
    He angrily let go of me and disappeared into the night. I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. I was shaking so hard that I dropped my keys. I was still desperately trying to open my car door when Edward sped away. Without actually being a murderer, that man was dangerous.
    I was sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. A dim light filled the room. The first bottle of wine was almost finished. Before putting out my cigarette, I used what was left of it to light the next one. I finally picked up my phone.
    â€œFelix, it’s me.”
    â€œWhat’s new in the land of sheep?”
    â€œI can’t stand it any more; I’ve had enough.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?”
    â€œI’ve tried, I promise, I’ve forced myself but it’s not working.”
    â€œIt will get better,” he said softly.
    â€œNo! It will never get better; there’s nothing left, nothing at all.”
    â€œIt’s normal that you feel bad around now. Clara’s birthday brings up too many memories.”
    â€œYou’ll go and see her tomorrow?”
    â€œYes, I’m taking care of her . . . Come home.”
    â€œGood night.”
    I staggered into the kitchen. I gave up on the wine. I drowned some orange juice in rum, a glass in one hand, the bottle in the other, and continued my breakdown. I drank, smoked, and cried until dawn.
    It was daybreak when my insides started to turn. I ran up to the bathroom without caring what I knocked over. My body