B Returns With a Vengeance
I look at B. The human being is an animal that at its core boils down to two things. Connection and communication. These two fundamentals lie at the heart of everything we do.
I look at B. Connection. I open my mouth to talk. Communication.
Should be easy...
"Well, you know," I say shifting my eyes away from her, "it is your fault."
"My fault," her tone rises ominously, "my fault? How did you work that one out?"
I try to ignore the glances from our other robed friends that are walking to and fro outside the courts. They should have gotten used to us by now, anyway.
"Well if you will keep telling all the ladies the size of my penis, they are all going to want to have a look. Cyprus is a small place after all."
B sniffs. "It's a pity that's the only thing! And I did nothing of the sort. You told me-"
"Now when would I ever tell you a thing like that?"
B concedes defeat there. "True. Well, Helena told me ages ago."
Ah, Helena...now she was beautiful. A honey-skinned beauty with eyes as black as coal, and hair just as dark. She looked more Saudi Arabian than Greek, and was just as good as an Arabian princess.
In looks, I mean.
I used to dream that I would fly Tarkan over for a special concert for two...to sing Turkish classical songs while Helena looked at me with dark eyes that for all its ebony was brighter than the sun...
...and then of course, the sun set.
"Well, Helena had no right to tell you anything...but even so that doesn't give you the right-"
"Hang on!" B waves her dossiers in the air. "Hang on! Don't try and turn this whole thing on me. Pah! Just like a lawyer. Did I go and tell you to get down and dirty with the new girl lawyer for lunch, and in a courtroom. What the hell was wrong with your office?"
"You know what secretaries are like - and we weren't that hungry -"
"That's not what she's saying," B scoffs, "and you know your reputation is going to get the better of you one day - no one is going to marry you at this rate."
Marriage. I try and change the subject quickly.
"Are you still upset with me?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean...
"Well, only a little...you were in England for a long time and you are so bad at contact! Not one word for all those months."
"You know what I'm like."
"And you stopped your "Letters to B"..."
I sigh. "But B," I say, "the blog wasn't going how I planned. Thanks to your letters I was sounding like some weird guy with a Tarkan fetish. I wanted something different."
"I still don't understand why you do it...I know it isn't for the love of Tarkan. Yes, I know you respect him for his talent - but you've had so many opportunities to meet him and you refused..."
"It's for the fans...don't you get that from the blog?"
"All I get from some of the letters I've seen is that you do all this hard work for a bunch of deceitful, lying, ungrateful and lonely women."
"Now where did that come from?" I look at her, hard, trying to read the look in those large, Cypriot eyes. "I won't let you talk about them like that - they are not like that at all. And I would like to stop - but I just feel obligated now."
"Listen, I've read what some of these 'people' have said about you - and they don't know you - don't know one fucking thing about you and they say these things..."
I continue to look at her, carried away in her protective mode and I am reminded of a line of a poem, "Friendship is being able to sit and speak without sound, to shed tears when the other cries."
I say nothing. She continues.
"You know I don't know why you don't just tell them where to get off. Are you a coward..?"
I say nothing again, but my smile gets a little wider. She looks at me as something flickers between our eyes.
Connection and communication.
She lowers her tone. I sense she has remembered what I have. "No, you're not a coward...I know that...but there are people out there that have lied about you...are still continuing to say bad things about you. These people have never met you, don't really know you...God if I ever got hold of these people..."
"Hey easy B. Leave that fire in your belly for the courts."
"You're the guy that saved my life...hell, I even saw you nearly get run over saving some cat...I've seen you argue head to head with the highest judge in this land without losing breath...so why won't you shut these people up?"
"Have you been going around the Tarkan yahoo groups again? You've only got yourself to blame, but you made me a promise...remember?"
"Yeah, that I wouldn't defend you - but I can't stomach some of the things said about you...and I'm offended because these people have benefited from you. I'm not blind, I see the way you've changed the Net as a source for Tarkan. Other fans just imitate you."
"No, there were sources around before me."
"Yes, but they weren't good. You were the first with really decent translations, you sites have been used as verified sources in newspapers, you were the first to realise the potential of sites such as MusicMoz and Wikipedia and Blogger."
"Listen B, I find it's just cheap to say bad things about people and good things about yourself - even if they've said bad things about you....and even if everything you say is true. And don't you think that you are doing the same as those you complain about...after all how well do you know them? They must believe they have their reasons."
"Then why can't they keep it to themselves. You don't go about telling everyone willing to listen how bad they supposedly are. And you have your own reasons, too. Why don't you just tell them?"
"Oh B...it is a lot of drama over nothing. Let people say what they want."
"You didn't even do it for yourself, for God's sake! You did it to further your nephew's career. You used your internet reputation and your hard work for your nephew. You gained nothing out of it...just like this feature film you've helped him on...helped? Hah! You wrote the script, composed the original score, found decent actors and musicians, engineered the sound, did the design, edited and directed but pretended you didn't...The film is what it is because of you. You sweated over it and then just left and came back here to let your nephew take all the glory. Do you think any of this will be credited to you?"
"Well that was the idea B," I grin. "He asked me to help...and I hope that any small thing I've done will further him in his career."
"Listen honey...angels are just for Christmas....and don't you sometimes think you do more harm than good this way? What are you going to do - run over to England every time he needs you?"
"Yes, if necessary. He's family."
"Pah! Well I want to say something..."
I could sense the germ of an idea growing in her mind. Her eyes couldn't disguise anything. I say apprehensively, "Now what?"
"I want to write a post on your blog!" She looks at me with steely determination. B usually gets what she wants.
"What do you want to write exactly?"
"What I think about those so called fans...I think I still have some MSN conversations saved..."
"Oh no. No way...not on my blog, missy. I won't let you use it or abuse it like that."
"Pah! Always the damn gentleman...but you owe me, and I really want this..."
I thought long and hard. I didn't want to censor her, but I knew I would have to if I just let her write whatever she wanted. "Well, how about we kill two birds with one stone?"
"Well how about I put down this conversation on my blog as another "Letter to B". You get to have your say and another letter, like you wanted."
She isn't sure. "Hmmm - well I want it to be almost word for word! Don't take anything out - even when I fucking swear."
Glad to have persuaded her I grab her arm, just as I notice a man waving to me from the court chambers. "The judge's clerk is calling me in for my earbashing. Why don't you missy just jot down now what we've said?"
And she did.