Where is My Mind

I.

The halls of the apartment building were quiet. In the kitchen only the slow drip of melting icicles by the window could be heard. Elena was preparing dinner for herself and the only other person who had remained at the university during the Easter holidays. The mashed potatoes were done and the chicken wings were slowly turning golden brown in the oven. The place seemed cosy and Elena did not even feel nostalgic for her home, but her mind was pre-occupied with other more melancholic thoughts.

Since the meeting they had not encountered each other. Damon had made no effort to invite her anywhere again, and this left Elena's mind in tatters, because she was confused by the situation entirely. Granted the pair still had their conversations, so in that aspect nothing had changed, but nevertheless even though the next step had been taken once, it did not appear as though it would happen again. Especially since Damon had left for Sweden during the holidays. He had called her a few times from Sweden, but less than before and their talks had not lasted for quite so long or been so stimulating. It had rather been an exchange of what had happened during their day or what their plans were for the next day.

Time passed. The holidays ended. They talked. Elena yearned for something more. And as the days ended one after the other, Elena began to feel the despair of knowing that the year was close to being over and that she would leave for France, Damon would leave for Sweden and they would not see each other for months, though it was not much different even at this particular moment. Now there were times, when they did not even talk for several days. It seemed as if what had happened naturally at first, in terms of friendship, was now quickly deteriorating, even though Elena desperately wanted to maintain it. Damon, however, seemed to lack the motivation.

...

After a long silence in their relations, came a night when fate finally placed them together in the same surroundings.

As is tradition students all enjoyed going out on Friday nights. So Elena met her friends and while sharing a bottle of vodka chased with tomato juice, they talked for a while and then left the kitchen for the town. Laughing and singing Queen songs, they arrived at the university bar, where anyone who went out on Friday nights gathered. Elena saw familiar creatures and even started talking to someone who she had seen in her lectures.

"Isn't the evening wonderful? Finally spring can be felt in the air. How do you feel tonight?"

"Great," he answered, amused at Elena's tipsiness. His name was apparently Enzo and he was Swedish. Their conversation was rather meaningless and Elena, even in her drunken state, was bemused with his lack of intelligence.

Then suddenly Enzo leaned in and said;

"You know, I think my friend really likes you,"

Elena turned and saw Damon coming towards them. He spoke Swedish to Enzo and then embraced Elena.

"Hello," Her heart was beating, as if injected with caffeine, "How are you?"

"I'm splendid. Just slightly drunk,"

"That's the best state, isn't it Lainey?" Damon smiled and put his arm around her, "We should get something more to drink,"

After another whiskey glass, Elena felt rather lost amongst her tipsy fantasies. She knew that Damon was not quite free from the influence of alcohol as well, but he was nowhere near her in terms of incapability to think. However she was enjoying herself and she was excited beyond words, because Damon was by her side. They talked, though she later had no recollection of the precise conversation. They sat on a bench and smoked, delighting in the coal black sky and the pleasantly warm weather of the night. Elena could not help herself and in her tipsiness amused him by singing 1980s songs and The Beatles, but Damon was not quite so carefree to join her. Overall the evening would have been a success, if it had resulted in something.

II.

The next day, Elena awoke with a splitting headache, but not only that. Her mind was elevated by ecstatic thoughts of her and Damon actually having broken their inability to talk in reality in front of familiar people. She went to make herself a coffee and poured out some cereal with milk. Upon returning to her room, her main question was whether she should call him or if he would call her. Being the stubborn creature that she is, Elena decided to refrain from calling him. Yet she didn't receive a call either.

The next stage beyond Elena's confusion was something similar to panic. The girl could not comprehend what had happened. Since she had met Damon her mood had changed by the minute and even after this she could not truly accept the fact that the evening had seemed so blissful and nothing had come of it. She tried to rationalize the situation by telling herself that there must be a reason for him not calling and he is most likely busy with one thing or another, but her heart felt as if it was split open and someone was slowly pouring acid onto the already fragile organ.

III.

Time passed again before Damon called. Elena could not help but once again speak to him as before – cheerfully, contently, happily, but she was truly distraught underneath it all. Something about their relations was not quite clear and acceptable, but her fear of losing him entirely prevented her from speaking honestly to him of her worries. Every day Elena tried to logically understand the situation, but she was never able to. No matter how much she wrote her thoughts down on the blank pages. She felt lost during her lectures, because they no longer seemed to matter to her. Being naturally smart Elena knew the subject, but she knew that if her mind would not be filled with other matters, she could be a much better student. And that went on for a while. Elena existed calmly, yearning for something more, but already beginning to accept that she would not attain it. Her life seemed still and empty, but at the same time she still felt good about herself and knew she would finish this year, go to France and forget the unpleasantness of her relationship with Damon.

It was too much to hope for however, because what she didn't know was that there was still a steep and long descent to a darker state of mind.

IV.

The academic year was close to ending. Summer could be felt in the air – people spent evenings outside in parks, everyone seemed upbeat and the dreariness of winter had disappeared from the city streets.

Elena spent her days studying for exams at cafés, drinking copious amounts of coffee to stay awake, reading too many books in a short amount of time and promenading the streets just before dusk, when the summer breeze was at its most pleasant. She had been to concerts with friends, found an apartment for the following year, already passed one exam and overall felt that life was improving. All she still desired was to leave the university for the summer and go back to her artistic France.

The university organized an event. The event would be held in a park and all the students were cordially invited to an evening of drinking and celebrating their first year of absorbing knowledge and living as independent adults. The park was spacious, with evergreen trees, hills and slopes and resembled more a forest than a park. Elena knew the park well, having spent many mornings strolling through it. That night she met her friends and with alcohol in hand, to brighten the mood, headed to the gathering. It was an obvious success as people were communicating openly, music was heard from an open-air stage and everyone seemed truly beaming.

After a few drinks the socialising could begin. Elena talked to many people with whom she had never spoken to before. That is what she loved about alcohol – it opened the mind and permitted a more effervescent approach to life and other people. She floated through the crowd until she came face to face with the one person she was dreading to meet. Damon stood before her, clearly intoxicated, but still smiling. He embraced her for uncomfortably long and even though Elena had promised herself that she would no longer feel so attached to him, the moment she sensed his arms around her, she could not help but smile, and dig her hands deep into his back, to pull him close.

"Lainey! We've not seen each other for so long!"

"I know," She laughed. Now it was just a matter of understanding that they would probably just talk again and nothing would become of it.

He put his arm around her and they walked through the crowds. They talked, but again the conversations must have been so meaningless, that Elena did not remember a single thing, except the fact that Damon dismissed the idea that Tina Turner's 'The Best' was a good song. When the pair could no longer walk, due to an understandable tiredness, Damon sat on a bench. It was the only object around and when he pointed to his lap, Elena did not mind and sat down upon him, because she did not have the strength to look for a different place.

"All I know is that Tina Turner cannot be considered a great singer,"

"Just don't say anything, if you don't have anything nice to say," Elena said and punched him lightly.

Damon responded by pulling her close and kissing her deeply.

The zealousness, with which she pulled him to her, stripped her bare and revealed all she felt for him. It was an unexpected happening of the inevitable. And neither of them complained. Damon soon took hold of her waist and his icy hands slid under her shirt, caressing her breasts and opening her brassiere. A situation such as this had crossed her mind before, but only in terms of day-dreams, but now as she felt his touch and how he kissed her neck, biting the skin lightly, it all seemed wonderfully real.

He laid her down on the bench and kept caressing her lightly shivering body. Elena's hands held him close to her, feeling the arch of his back. Damon pulled up her skirt and just when Elena thought that Damon would take her, he moved back slightly.

"I'm sorry. I can't. Too much alcohol, "

Elena was speechless for a brief moment.

"No, that's all right. It can happen," Just then she realised her own mind was far from clear, as her head was spinning and she could not understand how they had come to that particular place.

Damon did not let go, however, and wished he could pleasure her in some way, yet Elena no longer enjoyed the moment. He kissed her neck and lips lustfully and even though there was still a spark to be felt, so much so that they even fell off the rather unforgiving bench at one moment, the intensity was lost.

The pair soon left the bench and began walking again and between dialogues about stars and lampposts, Elena somehow left the event and found herself at home and in her own bed.

V.

The following day was a nightmare. An uncertainty pressed upon Elena's heart. She already knew that most likely she would not receive any news from him, yet her hope was not lost. Her eyes were fixed on the phone and all else seemed dead and insignificant that day. She could not even leave her room to walk the small distance to the kitchen to prepare breakfast or drink her much needed coffee. The despair had again set in. Finally when the air turned colder and night set in, after a glass of wine Elena called him herself.

"Hello?"

"Hi! How's the hangover today?"

"Just bearable. I've practically slept all day," It seemed like a relief to Elena, who once again rationalized his lack of communication with the fact that he had been asleep, "How has your day been so far?"

"The same as yours actually,"

"Listen, I'm sorry about last night,"

"You don't have to be sorry. I understand. That can happen," Elena said with perfect sincerity, "I'm sorry about my singing. Again,"

"Haha, that's quite all right," Damon laughed warmly. She could see his smile through the telephone, "It was lovely actually. The perfect touch to a good evening. My most vivid memory is how we fell off a bench,"

"I distinctly remember that too. And I have the bruises to remind me of it,"

"I'm very sorry about that,"

Elena shook her head in disbelief of what she was about to ask him, for it was against all her trusted principles.

"It wasn't entirely your fault," A deep, shaking breath, "Would you like to come downstairs for coffee so that we can suffer through the hangover together?"

"I'd love to, but I feel indescribably tired. I think I'll go to sleep again in a little while,"

"Oh, well never mind then,"

They talked for a little while and then said goodbye to one another. Elena was satisfied. Even though she felt a sting of rejection, she did not let it affect her, for she once again rationalised all Damon had said. Now she felt as if all was well again. She even allowed herself to think that there might be a slight possibility of them being together, now that they had embarked on barely intimate relations.

This false assumption would soon be dismissed however, after a week had passed with no news from her beloved Damon.

VI.

A week and a half was torture. Elena did not leave her room for socialising or for anything else that might be considered pleasant. She spent her days sleeping by the phone, desperately hoping a call would come. When she was awake, and that was not entirely often, she drank a glass or two of whiskey to calm the rave of her thoughts, while she listened to Pink Floyd's slow and melancholic tunes. Her existence had now truly become entirely dependent on Damon and other than that she could find nothing which made her feel good.

Every day Elena felt pure anger. Time passed with her being endlessly conflicted with herself, fighting the fantasies that crept into her mind with the white rage she felt towards Damon. Constant affirmations that she doesn't even sense attraction towards him or that he is not worth all the pain followed one another, but at no point did she actually believe them. The sole pleasures left in her life were sleep and alcohol, but beyond that she needed, nor desired anything else.

Elena spent one evening repeatedly listening to 'The Show Must Go On' and as she felt tears fog her eyes, she sensed pity for herself that she had allowed her mind to drown in the depths that it had. The show must go on. But how could it, when she had all but lost her sanity?

The window stood wide open and the frame swayed gently in the breeze. Elena blew the smoke out in a quintessential stream, sipping her third glass of the blood red wine and leaving Queen in the background. It seemed as if all she had was time. Time for pondering. Time for the thoughts she desired to avoid, yet they were the only element which perturbed her waking life. Elena had lost her urge to communicate with others, so her friends saw her rarely, her acquaintances even rarer. And there had still not been a call.