Anca Dunavete

Our bodies brushed together. I was getting closer and closer. For a while, I remembered what it was like to be young and scared and to want so badly to give yourself away because you don’t know what to do with all that’s been given to you.

You do it with your eyes shut, your mind on fire, and a burning desire to never get yourself back. Not the way you were, anyway. So there I was again, trying to negotiate a new, changed self with a man, since God – whom I’d made some kind of business partner at that point, ‘I’ll be a good girl, just make this and that come true’ – seemed to have run out of options for me.

His grip tightened as minutes and strangers passed us by. His body was warm, his breath smelled of alcohol and mint, his skin of strong cologne. His eyes moved up and down my body, or as much of it as he could make out.

‘Let’s go outside,’ he whispered in my ear.

I followed him. It was grey, almost dark, and it had started raining again. I liked the cold, refreshing wind and the sound of cars driving on wet streets. Someone offered me a drink, but I declined and found my way to him. He was waiting with a pack of cigarettes in his hand, and I accepted one with a smile.

‘My name is Mel,’ I said. ‘Just Mel.’

‘Nobody’s name is just something,’ he replied.

Way to go, Just Mel. You pick the best ones.

‘Mel, you weren’t flirting with me earlier like I thought you were.’

‘I wasn’t?’

I, too, was surprised to hear that.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said, a little disappointed.

‘Oh. Then what was I doing?’

He was right, to some extent. I liked putting myself in strange situations just to see what I’d do next – like directing and starring in a movie about, well, your girl here. ‘What’s behind that door?‘ I’d ask myself in the mirror. Then my reflection would say, ‘Why don’t you find out?‘, so I’d get up, get ready, get excited. But that shouldn’t be visible to others. I started to nervously balance on one foot.

Sometimes, I am all pieces – collected from here and there, from friends and lovers, and sometimes from complete strangers. They don’t always fit together, and I end up with more questions than answers. But that doesn’t stop my curiosity for long. I’m always looking for more bricks to add to being Just Mel, in the perhaps naïve hope that one day, I’ll introduce myself differently to the world.

‘Are you okay?’

My senses had been out of tune for a few moments – of course.

‘I am. Tell me, what did you think I was doing in there?’

‘I have no idea. You looked like you had too much to drink. I don’t think you had any idea, either.’

I nodded. There was no point in explaining. I made a mental note to be more careful. I was, as usual, too transparent.

‘Just Mel,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe we can start again?’

‘Sure.’

I took a step back, then one forward again, and held out my hand. As I considered what to say, I noticed what his face looked like with a smile on. The second mental note I made was something like, ‘Remember you like this.’

‘Still Just Mel,’ came out almost instantly, and then I couldn’t hold back the laughter for long.

‘Just Mel is just fine,’ he said.

He took my hand and, oh… But this is a story to be continued.