Game over

I have made an irrevocable decision: I don't want to get high anymore.
But I'm not ready: like it or not, I still need Michelle, even if I now see her mainly to see Carlos. I could phone him and see him without her, but I don't feel like making our relationship official. So we continue to see each other at her place, even if we go out alone together in the evenings.
Today she caught us red-handed. Carlos didn't notice, but I did; I hope Gerti understood the concept: she is now the outcast, I am the strongest. She did not betray the slightest emotion; she walked away without comment. Later, as we stood at the door, she looked at us ironically:
⦁	I see that you have fraternised.
⦁	What did that mean? - Carlos asked me as we descended the stairs. I threw my jacket over my shoulder:
⦁	Who cares, let's go for a beer.
After the pub we get into the car together and he heads for some secluded spot in the hills, as usual. I feel a nagging itch on one leg.
⦁	There are mosquitoes.
⦁	What mosquitoes? It's still too cold for mosquitoes.
⦁	I'm telling you: they stung my leg.
⦁	Don't scratch, you'll get a mark. Do you want me to put on a CD for you? One of your own, the one you like.
⦁	Yes, thank you.
After a few minutes I stopped the stereo.
⦁	Sorry, I don't feel like listening to music.
⦁	But it is one of your favourite records.
⦁	Yes, I know. That's exactly why.
⦁	Whatever: get some rest then. I try to relax, but I can't.
⦁	Are you feeling all right?
⦁	Don't worry, it's OK.
But I shiver and gnash my teeth.
⦁	Can you turn on the heating, please?
⦁	Sure. But what do you have?
⦁	Nausea, bone pain. No big deal, don't worry.
He stops the car in a lay-by, leaving the engine and heater running, and touches my forehead: a wrinkle is etched between his eyebrows.
⦁	You're a little hot, prince. Let's see if it passes, or you'll have to go to the doctor. Now come here.
He takes me in his arms like a small child and holds me like this for a while, rocking me lightly. Suddenly, without realising it, he utters the word kré-tcheu, love. The sound of those syllables strikes my ears like a grotesque paradox. I look at him as if seeing him for the first time and abruptly move away from him, returning to my seat.





⦁	Take me home, please.
He does not reply: he stares at me with the expression of one who is about to hear his death sentence.
⦁	Seriously, please: I have a terrible headache.
He gears up and drives off without uttering a word.
He takes me in front of the gate of my house: I don't decide to get out, he keeps silent.
⦁	Listen Carlos,' I finally tell him, 'don't get me wrong: it's not that I don't want to see you any more.
⦁	Ok.
⦁	It is that perhaps for a time...
⦁	Ok.
⦁	You know I am very fond of you, but I want to be alone for a while.
⦁	I get it.
⦁	I need a pause for reflection.
A pause for thought: what the fuck am I saying?
⦁	Ok, Ok: don't worry, I get it.
⦁	In any case, we are bound to see each other again at Michelle's, right?
⦁	All right, no problem, prince. Now take care of yourself, just think about your health. I get out of the car and greet him with a kind of smile.
As I walk on the gravel of the boulevard a knife stabs me in the stomach. I bend in two from the pain. My eyes fill with tears and suddenly I realise: game over.