She

Kolya was on his way out when he caught a glimpse of the Man. It wasn’t his lavish attire, bespoke and tailored with taste which caught Kolya’s attention. Nor was it his good looks, bordered by a sharp, angular jaw and topped with an entropic quiff.

What attracted Kolya to this Man in particular was the way he drank. He was sitting next to Bob, whose acrimonious divorce from both wife and job had redefined his life as one of drink and drunkenness. Whilst it was the drink that made Bob drink, cyclically drowning his guilt with glut, the Man drank with purpose. He would stare at the shot in front of him, his expression stern with restrained anger. In one swift, directed motion he would scoop the shot with his fist and pour it down his throat. This ritual would be repeated with each successive drink poured by the bartender, whose pitiful whimpers did nothing to stem the flow of alcohol.

“Hi”, said Kolya, dragging a stool and seating himself by his target. The Man slowly turned to Kolya, the creases along his face accentuated by an expression belying a proud curiosity. Kolya instantly regretted engaging with the Man. The absurdity of the situation had silenced him into ineptitude. He looked anxiously to the bartender, who raised his eyebrows in silent support.

“So you want to know why I’m drinking myself to a stupor?” said the Man, his baritone delivering the words slowly, giving each syllable value. His eyes were fixed on Kolya’s who could see his own reflection swallowed in the empty pupils. Kolya looked away in bewilderment; the intensity of the Man was overwhelming. He hungrily downed another shot before turning to Kolya and began his soliloquy.

“I was sitting by the jukebox over there with my business partners celebrating.” The Man had raised a pointed finger, aiming at a retro-jukebox glowing in the corner. “Our recent success was the reason for our celebration… but it was I who they were toasting. They thought I was a genius, a phenomenon of the business world. With each drink they raised their voices with praise and then indulged their envy with more praise. They satiated their absolute hatred of me with these theatrics, and they revelled in their collective hypocrisy. I absorbed the attention, fuelling an ego I imagined actually existed. We were all guilty of this charade of dishonesty and spite, and our lives defined by it.”     

The Man paused. His staring eyes were now burning with feeling, his emotions volatile with drink. Kolya was taken aback by the Man’s flamboyancy. It was almost like a theatrical performance and it seemed like the alcohol had sharpened it.  He had another swig before continuing.

“I justified a life constructed on lies, apathy and plain boredom. I rejected morality, ethics and even God for this depravity and I flourished in it.” Kolya saw that one corner of the Man’s mouth had twisted into a content nostalgia. His eyes glistened as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“There comes a moment in every man’s life that defines his existence. The days leading to it are all in preparation... and the days that follow are remnants of its glory. In the midst of our debauchery, ‘She’ walked in. Her awkwardly adorned frame swayed apologetically, as if embarrassed by its own frailty. Her face… although plain… had betrayed a sense of tried and tired innocence, exhausted by the burden of unappreciated purity. There seemed to be an intensity in her eyes… they shone in the depth of her greyscale silhouette as she stood in front of the lights.”

“I don’t know why, but seeing her as I did… it shook me to the core. This façade… this outer shell I had so carefully moulded over the years instantly melted away. I felt exposed and overwhelmed by …shame. I was embarrassed of who I was, what I represented. I was a victim of my own ego’s delusions; I truly believed I was worth something…but underneath the lies…”

His voice trailed off into silence. He was staring ahead into a mirror behind the bar and in a monotone said, “I don’t recognise the man in the mirror. He’s wearing my clothes, but that isn’t me. Why is it that I’ve spent my whole life aspiring to be my own imposter?”

Kolya didn’t know how to react. He slowly looked at his own face in the mirror, the Man’s words echoing in his mind. He developed a sudden revulsion for the reflection. He recognised it as his own, and it was this familiarity that terrified him. He wanted to distance himself from himself, and realised the futility of it all. Those hollow eyes, the gaunt face encasing them were his forever. He panicked… why had it only taken till now to gain insight? Who was the face in the mirror?

The Man smiled as he noticed Kolya’s perturbation. He nodded at the bartender, who proceeded to pour Kolya a drink. Kolya glared at the Man, then at his reflection… then proceeded to gulp the shot in front of him...

(Below is a poem I wrote a while ago along a similar theme)

Chimeric in both Mind and Soul
I sit, my head a mess
Another battle, Mind and Soul commence
My eyes are deafened by darkness
And ears are singing total silence

I sit alone and contemplate
As my heart pumps lead
There is no sound left to hate
Except the voices in my head

I sit, a mere prisoner
Of a war without a goal
But I can't escape my masters
The voices of Mind and Soul

I sit, I listen as the war grinds
To a halt, and so does the pain
Soul triumphs over Mind
As one Waxes, the other Wanes

I sit, a sigh of relief
That it ended this way
But I know that Mind
Will kill Soul someday