The Slave of Pleasure

Rachel

As I waited for the boarding call, the pain in my chest became increasingly unbearable. It was a feeling so deep, so empty, that I could barely think of anything other than that absence, as if a part of me had stayed behind in the mansion. I ran my hands over my face, trying to push away the tiredness and the remnants of tears that seemed to insist on falling, but the lump in my throat only grew.

I felt a slight weakness running through my body, and then I realized that it had been hours or maybe even a whole day - since I had eaten anything. My body was starting to remind me of its need for something other than tears and frustration. I got up from the uncomfortable bench in the waiting room and headed towards the food court, still not quite sure what I was really looking for.

Around me, the movement of people contrasted with the weight and slowness of my steps. Everyone seemed busy with something, running errands, walking toward the gates, talking to loved ones on the phone, children playing and laughing in naive joy. It was as if the world had returned to its normal rhythm, while mine remained frozen in the past, where everything around me was disintegrating.

I chose a simple café, simply because it was right there, in front of me, and ordered a sandwich and a bottle of water. I sat down at one of the empty and forgotten tables and tried to find some peace in the act of eating. I wanted to taste something, but each bite seemed to only fill an emptiness that could not be satisfied. It was almost painful, as if the food no longer belonged to my body either.

In my mind, everything was in disarray. It was difficult to remember exactly what I used to do before Vincenzo, what I used to feel, or even what I really was. That brief period I spent with him had changed me so much that, now, I didn't know if it was possible to return to the Rachel of before.

For a moment, I put the sandwich aside and took a sip of water, trying to clear my mind. But what seemed to happen was that the more I tried to escape the memories, the more they took root, invading my thoughts like an inevitable tide. I needed to find some meaning in all of this, something that could rescue me from this emptiness.

As soon as I finished eating, I got up from the table and started walking through the airport. Maybe, by walking among the people, I could find some trace of normality, some clue as to how to live again. I passed by gift shops, looked over the shoulders of passengers leafing through magazines and newspapers, observed the tired faces of those returning home after a long day. Everyone seemed to know where they were and what they were doing there, while I felt like I didn't belong anywhere.

The flight boards showed destinations that seemed so unreal to me, cities I might never visit, and destinations I didn't even know if I wanted to see. I had a ticket to go home, but "home" no longer meant the same to me. It was as if I had lost my way to a place that had once been familiar and welcoming. Now all I had were memories, pieces of a world I could never reach again.

As I wandered, I noticed a child leaning on a colorful suitcase, smiling and telling her parents something excitedly. For a moment, I thought I would like to have that lightness again, that feeling that life can be simple, that worries can melt away in a hug, in a word of comfort. But now, comfort seemed as distant as Vincenzo, and the only thing I could feel was the harshness of a reality I didn't know how to face.

I stopped near a storefront and saw myself reflected in the glass. The woman I saw seemed to be someone I didn't know, a stranger who could barely hold her own gaze. Memories from the past mingled with the reflection-a Rachel I barely recognized, a Rachel who, until then, had never known true pain. I tried to smile to myself, tried to remember what I was capable of, the strengths that had brought me here. But the smile faded as quickly as it had started, and all that was left was the tiredness etched on my face.

I stopped in front of a gate that wasn't mine yet and watched the passengers boarding. They followed in a line, one by one, some with anxious expressions, others looking tired, but all with a clear destination, a journey with meaning. And me? I felt lost on a path I hadn't chosen and that seemed to have no clear end. No matter where I went now, there was no way to erase what I had experienced. I would never be the same again.

I ran my hands over my arms, as if the gesture could give me some comfort, as if I could still embrace the person I once was. But all that was left now were the fragments, like an incomplete puzzle that no longer made sense.

I kept walking I was just walking, letting time pass by without rushing, without rushing to get anywhere. At some point, I sat down on a bench next to a lady who was holding a cup of coffee with her old but strong hands. She noticed my lost gaze and smiled, as if she understood exactly what I was going through. Her smile made me realize that, perhaps, what I needed was not so much answers, but a moment of peace, a truce for myself.

Suddenly, the calm voice from the loudspeaker announced my flight. Reality pulled me back, reminding me that it was time to leave. I got up from the bench and, with one last look at the crowd rushing past, walked towards the gate. Each step felt like a farewell to who I was and to everything I had lived, and, at the same time, a reminder that I would have to start over.

But, perhaps, this new beginning could bring something new, a new version of myself. Even if I couldn't see clearly now, perhaps at some point I would find meaning again.