Slowly, like someone who is tired and weary, the footsteps came closer with each desolate step and finally stopped in front of a door, at the end of the gallery, behind which, sat a bearded young man, drinking from a mug, his bloodshot eyes fixed at the door.
Knock! a single soft rap on the pale brown plywood door was followed by a soft feminine murmur.
Slowly the young man stood up, his face showing signs of absolutely nothing, and opened the door to a young woman, with very short hair, talking on the phone.
'Oh! he opened!' she muttered softly into the mouthpiece, faking surprise, as she entered.
Prison cells are bigger than the room they were in. Four walls, against one was a single bed, next to the door was a bookrack, as was against the wall opposite it, beside which he sat, on a chair, a bottle of cheap rum placed on a table next to him.
Three would have suffocated in that room. Two could manage. At least they were managing.
Taking off her jacket, she got into the bed, all the while talking into the phone, in a voice that was part audible, part incomprehensible, while he poured some rum into a transparent disposable glass, diluting it with water, handed her the drink.
'When is the exam tomorrow?....oh...shouldn`t you be..?' she mumbled into the phone, as she took the glass and sipped, slightly making a face.
A bright shine came into the young man`s eyes for a moment and then passed. He picked up his mug, drained it and poured himself some more.
Everything was cold and silent, nothing could be heard, as if sound waves had frozen off, apart from the young woman`s soft murmuring and occasional gulps of the man, which increased steadily, following a rhythmic pattern, a pattern which slightly matched the tone of the woman`s voice.
'ummm...I dont know.'
Pause. Giggle. 'Noooo.' Giggle. Pause. 'Okay'
She slowly looked up, the phone pasted on the side of her head, and saw him for the first time since she entered. He was looking at her, with bloodshot eyes, his face devoid of any emotion, dead pan. A light flashed through the eyes of the young woman.
'umm...drunk' Pause. Sip.
'Sitting.' Sip.
'Usual.' Pause.
'Looking at me.'
She wasn't smiling but the corners of her mouth were tightly shut. He sat there, just as he had, maybe the only change was that he was gulping larger and faster.
'No.' Pause.
' Needs a shave. Hair cut too. Probably a bath.' Sip. Sip.
'No. He says, he is...' she stopped midway, and speaking a little louder, said,' Can you light me a cigarette?'
Picking up a pack of Silk Cuts, he lit two, and passed one to her.
'What?' Puff.
'Ah..yes..you know, exhausted, drained.' Sip. Puff.
A look of impatience passed his face, but it again regained its dead pan expression. She noticed it, and her upper lip curled up a little, while she went on muttering into the phone nonchalantly, and he continued looking at her, drinking, smoking.
' He..made it to JNU... yeah... HIM...went and never came back." she said into the phone, with palpable signs of contempt and bitterness on her face. Big sip.
He, suddenly bringing his eyebrows together, said, for the first time, in a very serious voice, more or less talking to himself,' It`s harder when you don't know if you have to wait or move on.'
A look of pleasant surprise came upon the woman`s face and she stopped talking, a man`s broken voice could be heard coming from the speaker of the phone, dull and digital.
' Are you gonna...haha...imagine it...he has been...close...more than a friend...heart goes out...fucker...'
But no one heard him, no one was listening. Their eyes were locked into each other`s. There was a hint of slight mischief on the young woman`s face, his remained dead pan, but slowly it was changing.
' ...amazingly apathetic...nonchalant junky bastard...smell of his asshole..'
As if a heater had been turned on, the cold started to leave the room and the frozen sound waves came back to life. Tick of the clock. Heavy breathing sound. The dull thumping of the two young hearts. Rustling of the clothes as they both started taking them off.
'...you know...better then fucking you...that bookrack...single bed....on the chair...'
The phone was lying on the bed, forgotten, while she stood in the middle of the room, in just her thin teeshirt. He stood in front of her, one had on her waist and the other holding the mug, which he drained in one go, making a face, and kept back on the table.
'....there?..no?...i know...Fuck well! Make merry!'
and the line went dead.
