Into My Arms, Nick Cave
Anna Valenn, Le Blog |
Would he ever hit you? he says.
Sometimes. Less so since I moved away. To be honest I don't even mind it that much. The psychological stuff is more demoralising. I don't know how to explain it, really. I know it must sound...
He touches his hand to his forehead. His skin feels wet. She doesn't finish the sentence to explain how it must sound.
Why didn't you ever tell me about it before? he says. She says nothing. The light is dim but he can see her open eyes. Marianne, he says. The whole time we were together, why didn't you tell me any of this?
I don't know. I suppose I didn't want you to think I was damaged or something. I was probably afraid you wouldn't want me anymore.
I don’t want to get into a fight with you, she says.
We’re not fighting.
I know you probably hate me, but you’re the only person who actually talks to me.
I never said I hated you, he says.
That gets her attention, and she looks up. Confused, he continues looking away from her, but in the corner of his eye he still sees her watching. When he talks to Marianne he has a sense of total privacy between them. He could tell her anything about himself, even weird things, and she would never repeat them, he knows that. Being alone with her is like opening a door away from normal life and then closing it “behind him. He’s not frightened of her, actually she’s a pretty relaxed person, but he fears being around her, because of the confusing way he finds himself behaving, the things he says that he would never ordinarily say.