Page 15 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘Look, I get you both here for like, five minutes this summer. Last time I checked, you’re not in the market for a girlfriend, and Magdalen is certainly not looking for a summer-time fuck buddy. Just cool it, okay? Call Chiara or something.’
It feels like someone has blown hot air into me and pricked me with a needle. I’m suddenly deflated by Anika’s assumptions and how true they are. I’m about to press further, wanting to know more about Magdalen even if I can’t have her, when the loud crash of a table by the bar interrupts me. I hear a man curse and a voice, now familiar to me, scream out.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Anika tries to walk past me but I am steaming towards the crowd before I feel my feet begin to move. Pushing past bodies, people surround two drunken men beating the shit out of each other. It’s clear there is joy in the watchers’ eyes as they see the blood sprayed from one man’s nose and hear the other’s indecipherable swears. I roll my eyes. People love chaos from a distance.
But all I can hear is that familiar scream. My eyes search frantically for Magdalen, something within driving me to find her. To my right I see a few women hurriedly trying to lift a cracked glass table from the ground, and that’s when I see her.
Magdalen’s waist is pinned beneath the heavy metal frame of the table, shards of glass littered across her bare legs and the surrounding ground. Eyes shut with unvoiced pain. I watch her try to manoeuvre out from under the table. A petite blonde bends to ask if she’s okay, and with an apology already in her eyes Magdalen bitterly nods, teeth clenched on her bottom lip. A victim of someone else’s disaster and yet her face is burning red as if she’s embarrassed, as if this is somehow her doing? Shoving the bystanders aside, agitated by their ogling, I tell the blonde to stand back as I heave the table to one side, releasing Magdalen.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers as I bend down to examine her and again a fierce current of anger rushes through me. How the fuck can she think an apology is necessary?
Sitting up, she lifts her trembling hand from under herself and a trickle of crimson blood spills across her palm.
‘I thought ghosts couldn’t bleed,’ she murmurs with a faint smile. Her fingertips are wet with new blood and I’m worried about where the worst of her wounds are. If she has a concussion, I am going to beat the shit out of those men. I feel dark fury begin to boil inside me. For a girl I’ve only ever known through a hedgerow.
‘Far from a ghost, Magdalen,’ I say, taking a deep breath in. As if she hadn’t realized she spoke the words aloud, she blinks with surprise at my being so close to her.
My anger simmers, but I don’t want to direct it at her, so I try to smile but my mouth fights back and I’m sure it comes off as a creepy grimace. Without warning, she quickly shifts her weight onto one side in an effort to crawl up but the motion is too abrupt, she crumples forward. Her forehead is creased with agitation, and she looks up at the group of women standing around her.
‘Fuck,’ she whispers, and places her hand on her head. Blood smears her temple. I can see it’s not the pain that makes her curse, but the people watching.
‘I’ve got you.’ I kneel next to her and wrap my arm around her waist. Her shirt is ripped and my fingers brush against her bare skin, soft and warm.
‘I’m sorry, fuck.’ Her face is still creased with embarrassment. ‘This is why I don’t dance.’ Quickly checking her over, I see there is no glass inside her and feel relief for a moment. But it fades as I take in the cuts that cover her shoulder blades, and I know for certain there must be more underneath her shirt.
‘Magdalen, please,’ I muster, and reach under her knees to carry her towards the exit, careful not to touch any visible wounds. The men, sweaty and drunk, still fight as I pass them.
‘Anika will be upset.’ She closes her eyes but I keep my gaze straight ahead, towards the red gravel, towards the dark. ‘She loves to dance. And I was already being a bitch about coming.’
‘She’ll understand.’ We pass the metal gate of the entrance, and people waiting to get inside the club watch us with interest.
‘I hate men,’ she laughs to herself, and the red ribbon in her hair grazes my ear.
‘Ouch.’ I hide my smile in the silky fabric, breathing in her heady sweetness that’s now cut with the metallic tang of blood. I fucking hate men, too.
‘You don’t conform to my category of generic man.’ I can feel her breath on my shoulder and I fight the desire to look down at her.
‘Liar,’ I scoff.
‘You’re Theo,’ she retorts, and unconsciously rests her head on my arm. She says my name like it means home. Her comment, innocent and complimentary, makes my bones heavy with disappointment. Those who know me now, know she is so wrong.
‘Keep those eyes open, little one.’ I begin to feel anxious for this girl, who is both stranger and family and somehow must now rely on me.
Sets of footsteps echo from behind me, sharp heels and sneakers clacking on the pavement, and I know it is them before I turn.
‘Cazzo, Maggie.’ Dante’s eyes widen with worry as he reaches out to examine her. Anika and Jo follow close behind and immediately Magdalen is harassed for details.
‘You can put me down now.’ She suddenly squirms to be released from my grip and I place her feet on the ground, not realizing how tightly I was holding on. She doesn’t stumble or falter, but appears eager to comfort their anxiety, pressing her skirt down.
‘Seriously, guys, I’m fine! Those two men were fighting and I got pushed into the table!’ She speaks with authority and shrugs her shoulder like these things happen all the time. You would never know her entire back is covered in blood.
The trio look stunned, if not a little disappointed. Things rarely happen in Chivasso, and to be so closely affiliated to the spectacle, and receive such a boring response, their faces fail to hide it.
‘I am tired, though, and have blood all over me, so I think I’ll head home. But you guys go back in! Can’t waste a dress like that for just an hour, Anika.’ She smiles, but her eyes are so tired that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to refrain from stepping closer and holding her up. Jo’s shoes are already hovering over the ground, judging when it is acceptable to return back inside. Dante reaches in his back pocket for a cigarette and Anika is staring at Magdalen.
‘I swear, only to you would this happen.’ She shakes her head and grabs the cigarette from Dante and lights it up before Dante realizes it has even left his grip.
‘But I’m not a bitch, so I will let you go without a fight. I know how you get. And, Theo, you’re taking her home.’ She scowls at me, pointing her finger viciously, waiting for me to rebuke.
