Guy: End of the Story, or Beginning?

This was the last thought that Guy´s mind shot while he was leaving his body:

“The women finally killed me.”

As the mind shut off and the soul took over, it said in a calm, clear voice:

“No, they have always been showing you what love is, supporting you in your true colours.”

With his new eyes, Guy saw his mother nodding approvingly and smiling.

What now, completely boundless, weightless, timeless? I did not even believe in God, Guy pondered. Nobody in our family did.

“God is a human concept. Religion has absolutely nothing to do with eternity.” The Soul responded.

“Oh, so people could spare themselves a lot of troubles, if they knew this.” Guy´s new Self continued the dialogue with the Universal Soul.

With his new eyes, Guy looked at his former body lying listlessly on the ground where it hit falling from the thatched roof. Thatched roofs – inspiration that came to Belgium from across the Channel. The roof became his destiny when he climbed it to clean gutters in the rented house of Overijse.

Guy knew now all was fine. The girls would manage simply fine without him; times, when women needed men for security and comfort, were gone. From the timeless zone where he was now, he could continue sending them messages: No need to worry. Look the anxiety straight in the eye and see it for what it is: a fog.

Several parties were thrown in the memory of Guy. One in the Avenue Couronne Bar, no more clandestine, as the lock was finally lifted. Another – a Sunday brunch with a little ceremony – at the house in Overijse on a balmy day. Ute was wearing a pink dress, the fabric stretched over her huge belly. Dianna had a marron brown mini dress and sneakers and looked lovely. Rose went from arms to arms.

In the evening, when everybody finally left and Dianna went in to put Rose in bed, Ute sat on the porch, not far from the spot where Guy´s body had landed a few days ago. He never delivered the lemonade that he wanted to prepare for her. A sad thought. Ute sipped herbal tea: What a shame, what a loss. Right when Guy was adjusting to his role of a family man. The next child could have been his. What a lover he was! Ute´s eyes went dreamy. Guy´s oral pleasure techniques should be taught at teenage sexual courses.

A sudden gust of wind found its way through the holes of the sweater that Ute had put on her summer dress for the evening. An owl hooted in the nearby forest. Strange, suddenly, as if Guy were not at all gone, for sure not far away. Nothing. Nobody. All. Everybody.

About Katarina

I am a viniyoga teacher and a writer. The Slovak embassy secretary. An observer. The city of Brussels keeps me inspired, yoga keeps me focused and stories bring more stories.
This entry was posted in Katarina, Observing Brussels, The Corona Bar Stories. Bookmark the permalink.

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