Happy People Read and Drink Coffee by Agnes Martin-Lugand

Author:Agnes Martin-Lugand
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781602862852
Publisher: Weinstein Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

6

Moving in my bed made my head ache. With great difficulty, I tried to open my eyes, but they stung. My tongue was furry and I ached all over. Even before trying to stand up, I knew that the day would feel interminable. That would teach me to play the fool at a party. I opened the curtains to try to wake myself up. Who owned that car parked in front of my house? I had the feeling that I was missing something enormously important about the night before. My first shot of caffeine of the day would help me fill in the blanks. Going downstairs was painful, that’s how much my head throbbed. There was a body stretched out on my couch. The fog began to lift.

Felix. One of his arms and legs were hanging down onto the floor. He was still dressed and snoring like an engine. I couldn’t see his face.

“Wake up,” I said, shaking him.

“Be quiet; I want to sleep.”

“How are you? Are you all right?”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bulldozer.”

He sat up, still with his head down and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Felix, look at me.”

He raised his head. He had a cut on one eyebrow and a bad black eye. He sank back on the couch, holding his sides and grimacing in pain. I went over to him and lifted up his T-shirt; he had an enormous bruise.

“Good God, what did he do to you?”

Felix leaped off the couch and charged at the mirror.

“It’s OK. I’m still good-looking.”

He touched his face, flexed his muscles, and smiled at himself.

“I’ll still be able to show off when I get back to Paris.”

“There’s nothing funny about all this; he’s dangerous. You were lucky.”

He swept away my comments with a brush of the hand and went back to collapse on the couch, but not without wincing in pain. The fool hurt everywhere.

“That said, the next time you go into exile, go to the land of the Pygmies! Shit, no doubt about it, that guy is Irish. He must have learned how to walk on a rugby pitch. When he knocked me to the ground I thought I was playing in the Six Nations tournament . . .”

“So to sum it up, you got your kicks fighting with that jerk.”

“I swear, I was on the pitch and the crowd was going wild.”

“And you were the rugby ball. That’s all very well, but did you manage to get a punch in?”

“I hesitated. I didn’t want to smash up his pretty face.”

“You’re making fun of me!”

“Yes and no. But you can be sure of one thing: I defended your honor. I gave him a good left hook; he’s in no shape to French kiss anyone.”

“Really?”

“Blood spurted out all over the place and his lip blew up to twice its size. Give me five!”

I did a little victory dance. In the shower, I was still laughing about Felix’s exploits. He didn’t stop talking all through breakfast. He gave me all the news from Paris and told me how our apartment had been cleared out.

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