Doll

My body is laying on the bed and Mark’s body is laying on my body. The two bodies are moving slowly, rhythmically. We could not possibly be closer to each other than we are now, and we couldn’t be more separate. I feel his warm, wine coloured breath on my face and his sweat tickles my skin. We are pretending and we both know it. I want to stroke Mark’s face and tell him that we don’t have to, but I don’t.

Our bodies are laying on the bed next to each other. Something uncomfortable is coming and maybe I could prevent it. I could say something comforting. I could ask him a question about how his day went or cuddle up to him and hug him. Our bodies are laying next to each other with the appropriate distance between them, with a distance that is right and suffocating in its rightness. I sense that Mark is looking at me, my closed eyelids serve as shields.

’You know,’ he says. ’You know.’

I know but I don’t let him know that I know.

I sense his cold hand on my shoulder for a second.

‘Hanna?’ he asks, ‘Are you up?’

Mmm. I say.

I hear him sighing. I open my eyes, and turn my head in his direction. He is looking at me in the dark. I look back at the ceiling.

The bed is slightly and rhythmically moving under me again, Mark is scratching himself. I want to ask him to stop scratching himself.

‘You know, Hanna,’ he says, ‘you know I was thinking about you, just now, and, and as I was thinking, all of a sudden I realized what you are. You are an inflatable doll.‘

I sit up in the dark. I guess he’s right.

‘That’s what your function is. That is what you are. So shouldn’t I treat you accordingly? Do you have any arguments why shouldn’t I?

I push the blanket off me.

’Of course you don’t have any. Because you are an inflatable doll.’

I stand up and I walk out of the bedroom. I walk through the dark living room, its darkness and silence is comforting, the cold floor makes my bare feet ache. I open the door of the toilet. The King is sitting on the toilet, his elbows are on his knees, his chin is in his palms, his crown is balancing insecurely on the top of his bald, shiny head. He wakes up as I switch on the light. He stands up slowly, like and old man, lets me take his place, and pats my shoulder before leaving. I sit down on the toilet and smile at him. He smiles back at me sleepily and closes the door behind him