A Man, a Girl, a Deserted Island - - A Crazy Epic Love Saga

Episode 9: Oh, how I love aspirin!

"Who are you?"

It's the second time she's asked me, and yet I'm unable to give her an answer.

Right after she woke up, she rushed to the bathroom without looking left or right. She vomited.

And vomited again. 

Then vomited once more. 

As she retched and strained, I assumed she wanted to vomit herself entirely into the toilet. I could already see tomorrow's headlines:

"SHOCKING!

A 50-year-old woman emptied all her internal organs into a hotel toilet, then disappeared herself.

No one knows who flushed the toilet.

Only a charred piece of lung remained on the toilet rim.

Police deduced she was a menthol cigarette smoker.

So, dear readers, smoking really kills!"

While Ana was in the bathroom, her mobile phone began buzzing on the table and kept moving around, but it's impolite to answer someone else's phone, so I ignored it.

But it wouldn't be ignored. It kept vibrating until it reached the edge of the table, then fell to the floor with a loud thud. A piece of it flew off in the process, and from that moment on, it stopped vibrating.

Shortly after her phone gave up the ghost, the bathroom door opened. Then all the commotion began.

"What do you mean, who am I?" I ask calmly. "Are you serious?"

I look at her amused. I thought after last night nothing could surprise me, but it seems I have no clue who I'm dealing with. I just know I'm dealing with a woman (I've already confirmed that) and I know her name is Ana Don't Know How.

That's it.

"But who are you?" she stammers again. She looks like a monument dedicated to bewilderment.

"Good Lord! I'm Tiberiu. You really talk seriously?"

She suddenly went to the armchair as if her knees had given way. I light a cigarette and remain silent. It's the best policy. 

I'll keep quiet. I'll let her think it over. 

She's absent-minded now, so she's thinking. It won't take her long to reach a conclusion:

"Get out! Now!"

So she's smart.

If all the women I've dealt with had told me that at the right time, their lives (and mine, yes!) would have been much better. But it's useless for her to be smart... afterward.

Firm as an ancient goddess of indignation, she raises her hand and points to the door again, then grunts and rushes to the bathroom at the speed of light.

I bend down and pick up her mobile phone and the piece that flew off. I place them gently on the corner of the table. The bottle of schnapps sits in the middle of the table, and, alas, it's so empty that looking at it makes me feel depressed.

To avoid seeing it, I enter the bathroom. I expect to witness a spill of guts, lungs, and bits of brain on the toilet seat. 

It's not that bad. Just vomit everywhere.

"So you didn't leave," she observes between rinsing her mouth with water and spitting in the toilet.

"Believe me, I'd be happy to leave, but I don't have the room key. Some joker tossed it."