Come Little Girl in my Comic Strip

This story is a sequel to Gracias a la Vida and Sweeping Sun that you can find on my page.

The tap water splashed Elleree's face and slid down her dry skin without effect. Her chin trembled and the corners of her mouth weighed down. The plane shook and she gripped the edge of the yellowed sink. A sob slipped out. And two, and three, and a couple more. She reached for more tissues.

*****************

"Excuse me, could you-" 

"No drinks for me. Thanks." Her neighbour groaned, without opening his eyes, and turned to the other side.

"Sorry, I'm sitting next to you. Could you -" 

"Mhh." He adjusted his jacket, spread like a blanket over his shoulders, and dove deeper into his sleep.

She excused herself and he mhhed her once more. She stepped over his folded legs and slipped back into her seat. She fastened her belt tight, to feel like someone was holding and comforting her. The sky outside was as rosy as when she left Geneva twenty hours ago. She could have fallen asleep if it weren't for those sobs threatening to burst out anytime again. The wings of the plane bounced slightly. If only she could rewind and sit in the airport again with Ali - full of hope and pride. She wrapped her scarf around her shoulders and swiped through the programs on the small screen in front of her. She didn't feel like watching a movie. Maybe she was boring for Henry. Maybe that's why he didn't show up at the gate. She browsed through the world music section, on the screen, for the song Ali had showed her at the airport. What was it called again? 

“Bah?” Her neighbour was now awake, his eyes looking dazed under the mess of his hair. He stared at her. “You were sitting here before? I don't recall seeing you.” 

Maybe because she had rushed to the toilet as soon as they took off to pour out all her sadness and anger and shame. How could he be so insensitive. Could he be asking on purpose? In that case, she preferred not to reply.

He cracked his neck from side to side and stretched his arms languidly as if he hadn't noticed his question had not received an answer. He stood up. "Water?"

She shot him with her eyes, like the only thing she needed now was water. She would cry it all out again.

"I was just offering." He gave her an intrigued look, shrugged, and disappeared.

She sneered and closed her eyes, pressing her head against her seat.

***************************

Elleree wiped her credit card with her sweater and pushed it back into the ATM. Still a dark screen – how was that possible? Someone coughed behind her - at least seven people were queuing to withdraw money. Another cough. And a grunt. She wiped her forehead and pressed the cancel button. She could ring her bank but she wasn't ready for another bad news. Another grunt. She grabbed her backpack and walked away. A tall silhouette was staring at her in the queue - she looked away. 

Black cars with a yellow roof stopped by as if coordinated by an invisible hand. Elleree watched them from her modest spot in front of the airport exit. She turned her phone on, hoping to get signal magically – so far nothing. She turned it off, and on again. Maybe she shouldn't have onboarded the plane without Henry. How ridiculous. A tall shadow covered hers on the asphalt and she looked up. 

“All good?”

“All good, thanks.”

“Did you get cash?” 

She smoothened the wrinkles on her jeans.

“Are you waiting for someone?”, he asked. 

“My friend. He went back in to call the bank.”, she said. He frowned, half amused.

“By friend you mean the Henry guy who did not show up at the airport?”

Touché.

“I overheard the conversation with the crew member when I was standing in the queue." She did not reply, she had nothing to say. 'What’s the plan?” The chewing-gum on the pavement near her right foot all of sudden became captivating, she stared at it intensely. “Do you have a place to stay?”, he continued. 

“I do not. But I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. You just can’t stay here alone, without cash or signal.” He hinted at her phone screen. “We can share a cab, if you want.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Just a suggestion.”

***************************

“Ah mais cocorico ! Ah des Français, croyez-moi, ca fait toujours plaisir!”

Elleree sat behind the driver in black turtleneck. and her neighbour sat down next to her. 

“C’est votre première fois à Santiago ? Vous allez voir, elle est géniale cette ville. Ah, moi j’adore, ça fait 20 ans et je-ne-m’en-lasse-pas. Surtout si y’a des –“

“She doesn’t speak French.”

“Ah non? Roh, mais quel dommage! What is your name, mademoiselle?”

Why did this guy need to be talkative.

“Elleree.”

“Oh, c’est joli. You know, Elleree in French sounds like “elle rit” - means “she laughs”. Beautiful, très joli. Pas vrai, jeune homme?” Her neighbor nodded carelessly while checking his phone. “You should smile, Elleree. C'est pas possible de look so depressed when you're so young. It should be forbidden.”

Her neighbor looked up from his screen, amused, and she through the window - she had nothing to reply.

“And you look pretty, roh. You know what, I know what you need - a little song by Serge Gainsbourg. Will make you smile, I promise.”

At least, he meant well. She forced a smile and the driver winked, pressing play.

“He's right, you should smile. And remove the dark under your eyes. Need a tissue?" She looked at herself through the mirror - could this scene be more embarrassing? She fetched the tissues in front of her seat and wiped her face methodically. She didn't mean to be rude but she had so little to say. And so much to express.

"I’m Alphonse, by the way. You can call me Alf.” Her neighbor made brief eye contact, he didn't seem to mind her moodiness. Watching the rainy sky outside, he was tapping his hand on the armrest to the rhythm of Gainsbourg's song. He looked detached yet present. She wished she could enjoy the city too.

The cab stopped and the black turtleneck looked back at them “Hope ca va better, Elleree. You know, you shouldn't take life too seriously. It's just life."

"It's just a comic strip.” Alf said as he got off the car.

"Good one." The driver laughed and waved as Alf closed the door of the car behind her.

“A comic strip?”, Elleree asked as the car drove off.

“It’s the title of the song he played.” Alf said.

“But what's the – “

“Just a title.”

The street was silent and poorly lit. Yellow and red iron curtains were drawn down, and facades looked either green or blue – the windows were blocked with black undulating lines of iron. She didn't like that street.

He looked around at the dim street cluttered with paper and dust and smiled at her. “I like it here."

“I'm fine. I just need to make a phone call. I know someone -”

“Bah, you need a phone - the reception should have that. This way.”

********************

“La chica necesita usar al teléfono. Permite por favor?”

Hearing "teléfono", Elleree realised how stupid she had been. She had relied on Henry to take care of all the logistics - his contacts here, the accommodation, the way, even the Lonely Planet. But to be fair, he had insisted to be in charge of those things saying she only had to make sure she'd be on time at the airport on the D day. Which did. Maybe she shouldn't feel so guilty - of the two, she was the one who had fulfilled her promise. The bold man with puffy eyes behind the counter handed her the phone. She stared blankly. Alf frowned.

“You don’t have their contact?”

"I do. It's just -"

Alf chuckled and his light-hearted laughter punched her in the teeth.

“I’m sorry to ask that Elleree, but seriously, how did that happen?”

She still had nothing to reply. And on top of the guilt from trusting the wrong person and seeing a hero in Henry, she was realising how stupid of her it had been to still take the plane without him and without a plan. Without anything. Alf handed the phone back to the man, muttering a joke in Spanish. The man nodded his head at her, as if congratulating her for making a good choice. She looked away and crossed Alf's amused eyes. Cocky chin and large shoulders. Thin arms and legs. His worn-out tee shirt yet tasteful suede boots. He now chit-chatted tranquilly with the bold guy, a proud hand on his hip. She sighed deeply - she needed another cry.

“He says he can get you a discount for a single room, what I can do is -“ Alf turned around and stopped as he saw her face. “Are you okay?”

Elleree pressed the muscles of her forehead and lips tight not to cry. That would be the last straw. The bold man fetched a box of tissues and handed it to her, with a supportive nod. Alf grabbed his leather bag from the floor and rummaged through the side pocket. He drew out a small candy bag with tiny colourful balls. 

“That’s my last bag”, he said while opening the bag and handing it to her.

Elleree felt a sob coming stronger.

“You don’t have Dragibus in the UK?”

She wanted to say that, although she was British, she lived in Geneva but opening her mouth would have opened the sobbing gate. She shook her head, pinching her lips.

“You prefer dried mango from Marks & Spencer?”

She contracted her throat to block the tears deep inside. Alf shrugged and slipped the candy bag back into his pocket. He hinted at the receptionist that they were fine. And patted her shoulder gently.

*******************

The room had a small wooden mezzanine, where the bed certainly was, that overlooked a round area with an armchair, a desk and a TV. Alf dropped his jacket on the desk and opened the window of the balcony, dragging a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans. "Do you mind?"

Elleree shook her head and went on to inspect the room, silently. She opened the bathroom - it was neat and small. She'd have a good cry there.

"You've cried enough, don't you think?" Alf said while blowing smoke towards the street.

"You don't even know what happened." She said turning off the lights of the bathroom. She headed towards the armchair, not knowing whether she should sit or stand, she leaned against it and stretched her legs forward.

"I don't need to."

"What about you? What brings you here?" She wanted to specify "alone" but she didn't. That would have been too direct, potentially misleading.

Alf wiped his hands and slipped back inside, closing the window gently. He leaned against the desk in front of her, symmetrically to her and crossed the ankles at the end of his long legs. He fetched the candies from his bag. He stretched his thin and long arm towards her. A dozen of black, turquoise, green, pink and red little sugary balls awaited.

"The black ones are my favourite.", he said. She reached for one and he withdrew the bag cheekily. "I said black is my favourite which means you leave them to me." He shook his head. "You can have the pink ones, they're a solid 7/10."

The pink sugar melted on her tongue, it was slightly acid - she gave it a 9/10.

"Why are you here?", she repeated.

"Holiday." His teeth stuck with gelatine. "Sometimes I need to self-isolate. I thought Chile would be remote enough." He drew a black diary out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "I have a circuit planned for the next thirty days and then I'll see. If you like, you can tell me what happened - maybe it's not as dramatic as you think." As Elleree's eyebrows raised, he showed his open palms. "I mean well." She looked at him in silence - did he really mean well? He noticed she was assessing him, but as seemingly usual, he didn't seem to mind. He checked his phone quietly. "I'm hungry. Do you-"

"I'm fine."

He smiled. "Cool. In that case, you can get the bed upstairs. I'll sleep in the tub. Good night!" He fetched his jacket and closed the door behind him.

She reached for the forbidden black candies. What if he did mean well? She grabbed her coat. As the door slammed behind her, she realised she didn't have his number or any keys - whatever, that was all non-sense anyway. She rushed down the staircase, the dark and empty hall and alley. The night outside was fresh and humid. Where was he now? The asphalt was spotted with tiny raindrops. And bootprints. Maybe his? She fetched her phone and turned its lamp on. Could be. She followed them.

A dozen silhouettes danced on a tiny square. The music was loud enough but not disturbing. At the centre, trees stretched protectively above the couples. The air smelled of pine and fun. Elleree could not recognise the dance or the music but she stood and watched. Males and females alike, in their thirties certainly, played with faces and moves. Men wore hats and females retro dresses, both had brogue shoes. Some had scarfs in their hair, other had straps. Elleree marvelled at them. She heard an all-too-familiar laughter and tried to locate it. Behind the tree, thin arms were making a girl with long hair spin and jump. Throwing her away and dragging her back closer to an all-too-familiar worn-out tee shirt. Alf was having fun. She stepped to the side, without coming too close, and made sure to be in his field of vision - perhaps he would notice. She did not except much really, no she didn't. She was merely curious. But nothing, really. Or perhaps, she did. Would he notice her, would he invite her? Would he swap the long hair for her round face? She stepped slightly more to the right, hands in her coat. And waited.

"Hey, Elleree!" The song had stopped and he had seen her. Good. Elleree approached slowly, observing the other dancer who was smiling at her with a face as relaxed as his. Were they all happy here but her?

"Hey, Elleree. This is Marta. Marta meet Elleree." Elleree felt her jaws tensing and her eyes pulling out. She forced a smile and nodded at the dancer. "Marta is producing a TV show, what's the name again? Yeah, whatever. It's a reality TV show -"

"Para parejas.", the dancer said nodding. A song started again and the dancers swapped partners, preparing for another round of fun, moves and laughter. Marta looked back at the other dancers, as if missing out.

"Yeah, parejas." Alf repeated. His right arm circled around Elleree's shoulder. She froze but for a second only. He smelled nice. "It's for couples, I thought that... since..."

Elleree frowned. The last thing she needed was to have her face on Chilean TV.

"But, we..."

"We definitely belong there." Alf said nodding exaggeratedly. "We meet all the criteria."

"Si, y también un francés y una británica-"

"Totalmente. Estoy de acuerdo - sera perfecto. Elleree, you know -"

She couldn't even speak that language. She turned around and looked at him. He opened his eyes and nodded slightly as if his eyes contact was the stronger lever around.

"Oh, Elleree-chérie. Say yes." Alf came closer and whispered in her ear. "We could even invite Henry for season 2 and plan a little drama. Ask them for extra money because of increased audience. Come on, don't be boring."

Marta patted her back, genuinely excited for them. How could this guy befriend everybody so easily?

"Oh and here comes my Comic Strip song. This night is just perfect. Come Elleree, this one is ours."

Elleree was confused. But amused. But afraid. But flattered. But joyful, but worried. But she let him take her hand and drag her to the centre. He waved at Marta and smiled back at her. Before Elleree could say anything, she felt her legs leaving off the floor and his hand pulling her to the side. She laughed. Now she recognised the song in the taxi. It was light-hearted and fluid, just like him. Another Henry perhaps? She didn't know and didn't want to think. She smiled and let him do. He turned and made her spin, noticed she was a bit tense, so he bent forward.

"Just enjoy."