Romania
the farewell
Even though some might see it as a breakup, I see it as a new beginning. I don’t know where it will take me, I don’t have the energy to dissect it, I just know that I’m tired of being the thoughtful one; the passage of time has probably numbed me. Contrary to popular belief, I am not filled with resentment, I have no one to blame and I am not looking for a scapegoat. It seems more like a clean sweep to me. We all just spin and gravitate around our dreams. We have reached the point where this is no longer working. You hear it creak under the pressure of daily demands like rust that corrodes an old relationship, tomorrow’s meaningless chase, the almost reached horizon, the quantity without quality, the ever-eluding meteorites, the one way divinely anointed road traveled by so many characters before you. And yet, there is a dead-end, a turning point, when even though it’s just for one second, you come to realize that the tram line is for the masses, and you, the weirdo, dream about having wings that others wouldn’t attempt to use for fear of not fitting them properly or causing them to collapse immediately upon trying them on. It’s not their fault, it’s just the way the world works. Safety comes first while uncertainty it’s the plaque of relationships. A well-closed door keeps feelings away from dreams and reality.
Unlike them, I like the doors to be wide open, for the air, the smiles, the people to flow freely through them. The locks have never defined me. But I find myself becoming a flawed actor, with no empathy, responding with yes or no to habitual actions with no regard for her opinion. It flows past me, flooding my thoughts with worthless scenarios, things no longer of concern to me, a type of fog that blurs my horizon.
She used to be part of my life, my chosen one. We smiled, we laughed and even cried together. Decades have passed us by. We’ll always have this. No one can erase it, at least not from my heart. We all continue to be interconnected. Life will propel us forward. We don’t just disappear into nothingness. It’s only our path that differs. I hope you won’t hate me but that we’ll continue to meet gladly, to greet one another and maybe even smile upon seeing each other, pretending to have remained the same dreamers in love. Please say yes, my sweet blonde beer!
the reunion
It was a late evening, after 11 PM, a state of emergency, a good reason for ridiculous discussions and penalties glued with spit on the beer bottle that I now hold in my hand. We are both illegals. We met in front of the building stairs, he snuck up on me from around the corner, I came from Madam, where I was called for an emergency. She had summoned me to fix the TV plug, the bloody thing had no signal. It was a difficult situation. I know, we have a twisted relationship, everyone knows it, she knows it too, her neighbor from her floor, Mrs. Smith, said so, I also know it, my wife told me. And yet, we have those moments of common wandering, when we look for each other to get rid of our negative energy. She acts on the advice of a granny who had read her in a coffee cup of whose leftover grounds remained between her spaced-out front teeth. On the other hand, I follow those brain fragments lying over the cerebellum, guiding my steps to her bed. But that's not what it was about, I drifted.
Clearly, I was shocked to see him. I don't have enough fingers on my hands to count the months since I've last seen him. I mean, it wouldn't be shocking if we were high school friends, so to speak, but the two of us drank our coffee together every morning. And then, gone, all of a sudden, not a "hello", not a "goodbye", he disappeared from the face of the earth. Sometimes we also used to drink a beer in the evening, but that wasn't the rule. But in the morning it was, not imposed, but somehow it had become our routine, we were drinking our coffee together. Then each went on with his own life. He's been a perfect libertine ever since I met him, he's not the type to wake up with the night in his head to get to work, to tick off a to-do list. No, he didn't, rather the other way around, the responsibilities were queuing up before him, and he, most of the time, totally indifferent, checked them off or not, most of the time he postponed them with a dry grimace on his face. And now, he was waiting for me in front of the building, he was in the mood for telling stories. No explanations, nothing tangible, nothing to justify his actions, nothing about his deviation from our routine. Nothing!
I was dizzy, I was always like that when I got home at this hour. But I was prepared, I had the necessary papers on me, I came from the hospital, whose employee I have been for over ten years. As long as I wasn't wandering the streets at night, the police had nothing to tell me. The taxi driver always dropped me off in front of the building, so no questions here. The TV was working well now, the hospital emergency was solved, I returned home to rest, and that before starting another hectic day of work tomorrow.
On the other hand, he had a more mad look about him than before, he seemed agitated. I didn't want to sound shocked by this meeting, even though I was, but I didn't want to give him that satisfaction. However, I took him in my arms and kissed him. I don't think we've gone too far. We haven't seen each other in over a year. I didn't even ask him anything, I wouldn't have remembered too much anyway. But I sat down on the stairs of the entrance, kissed again the bottle I held firmly in my right hand and waited for his confession.
”Meow! Meow!” he said, rubbing his jaw and homeless cheekbones on my ankles.
raționament
O planetă de aÈ™ fi, mi-aÈ™ rezolva cam toate problemele. Una faină, aÈ™a ca Terra, dar fără rasa umană care defechează È™i poluează peste tot, una fără PET-uri, una din asta verde, una cu râuri, ape È™i bălÈ›i peste tot , copaci măreÈ›i care trag la măsea din seva mea È™i m-ar răcori, să am turme peste turme de erbivore care să-mi îngraÈ™e părul, pardon verdeaÈ›a, câÈ›iva prădători din ăștia să le mai rărească de pe pajiÈ™te È™i cam atât, cred că. Ba nu, aÈ™ vrea nisip È™i È›estoase, valuri moi să-mi maseze tălpile, cadenÈ›a valurilor să mă adoarmă, ba pe o parte, ba pe cealaltă a Soarelui, să mă învârt constant, în ritmul meu, în jurul lui, să mă pierd prin galaxia noastră, să fiu o necunoscută printre milioane de necunoscute, să fiu căutată de toÈ›i bipezii, dar foarte greu accesibilă, să mă viseze, dorească, dar să nu ajungă la mine, să mă lase în pace cu tot neamul lor de căcăcioÈ™i. Asta-mi doresc! Să fiu un burete, să filtrez toată umezeala atmosferică, să mă cureÈ›e de rele, bune, mizerie, gânduri, imperfecÈ›iuni, decolorări, ani, probleme de sănătate, ficaÈ›i È™i rinichi spongioÈ™i, cu depuneri minerale străvechi, din te miri ce sedimente planetare importate prin intermediul asteroizilor È™i cometelor, trebuie să fie ceva prospături în tot raÈ›ionamentul ăsta. Și da, am nevoie de hamei în zona mea, este musai. Să-l las să fermenteze, să-mi ofere acel panaceu, berea. Să o las pe ea să-mi spele măruntaiele, să mă cureÈ›e, să-mi alunge gândurile negre, să mă urmărească pe orbita mea prin necunoscut, să mă susÈ›ină necondiÈ›ionat, fără „trebuie”, „vreau”, „iubi”, auzi?”, fără, pur È™i simplu fără, fără, nu vreau să se uite la mine, fără zâmbete, acreală, dezgust, aprobare, fără, nu È™tiu cum aÈ™ putea să subliniez din nou termenul acesta, FÄ‚RÄ‚. M-aÈ™ învârti din nou È™i din nou, aÈ™ dansa în continuu pe orbita trasată de regulile Big Bang-ului, m-aÈ™ abandona în deciziile celeste, hidratat fiind de ambrozia pusă la dispoziÈ›ie de atomii È™i formulările chimice naturale ale hameiului. AÈ™a ar trebui să fie, FÄ‚RÄ‚ È™i CU. Să mă învârt din nou È™i nou pe ringul meu de dans, să zâmbesc, să râd, să le fac un semn discret lui Venus È™i Marte când trec pe lângă mine, să cochetăm cu gândul la următoarea întâlnire, să fim superficiali, FÄ‚RÄ‚ planuri de viitor È™i CU zâmbetul pe buze. Oare cum aÈ™ putea aduce asta în lumea mea? Fără roÈ›i, frâne È™i maÈ™ini, doar râuri, pini È™i fagi, o faună pe măsură, fără grabă È™i rapoarte, clienÈ›i agitaÈ›i È™i nemulÈ›umiÈ›i È™i cu ea lângă mine, de mână. Nu, nu de mână, cu o bere în mână, e mai bine aÈ™a, respectă mai bine raÈ›ionamentul meu pueril, dar foarte sănătos, de altfel.
A venit, a sosit, s-a aÈ™ezat în faÈ›a mea, face un semn, primeÈ™te cafeaua, se uită mereu la È›apul de bere din faÈ›a mea. Ar zice oarece, dar crede că e mai expresivă prin ocheadă, prin impotenÈ›a dezacordului bahic, chestia aia laser ce È›âÈ™neÈ™te din ochii ei È™i ce-mi încălzeÈ™te È›apul de bere. Îhî, s-o gândit ea, dar nu-i stres, dau groapă restul È™i fac È™i eu un semn, să mai vină una. Rece, blondă, nefiltrată, la halbă de data asta, pe aia nu o încălzeÈ™te aÈ™a de repede. Asta ar trebui să pareze „ai ajuns de mult?”, nu È™i-ar mai avea rostul, par însetat, probabil că ar fi doar a doua, deci ar mai găsi câÈ›iva neuroni treji în mine cu care ar putea comunica, din ăia sensibili la raÈ›ionamentul ei. Fals dragă, fals! I-am fentat È™i pe ăia! Ce credea? Că joc cinstit? Eu? Despre mine, credea asta? După FÄ‚RÄ‚, FÄ‚RÄ‚, FÄ‚RÄ‚ È™i iar nenorocitul ăla de FÄ‚RÄ‚, fals, total fals. E a cincea, iar eu levitez pe orbită susÈ›inut de întreg Sistemul Solar, ca să nu menÈ›ionez galaxia È™i restul beÈ›ivilor de pe terasa asta. RaÈ›ionamentul meu curent este valid, este ancorat în experienÈ›a unei relaÈ›ii de câteva luni, fundaÈ›ia este solidă, stânci peste stânci, fără aluviuni. Decizia este luată, trebuie doar prezentată, comunicată chirurgical, fără simpatii sau empatie. E ca la vânătoare, BANG, ai doborât vânatul, nu te joci cu el, doar nu eÈ™ti mâță. Oare cum o întrerup, cum pun stăvilar acestui flux de informaÈ›ii inutil pe care mi le transmite de când s-a aÈ™ezat la masă? Nu mă interesează, nu vreau să o mai ascult, trebuia să fac asta de mult timp, e vina mea, voiam să o fac de ceva vreme, dar am tot evitat momentul, m-am eschivat, m-am tras pe fund, m-am ferit de vina nerealizării planului veÈ™nic. Hai că poÈ›i! Bere È™i căcat!
- Auzi, Iubi? Trebuie să ne despărțim! Eu vreau altceva!
the meeting
She's been standing in front of me for a few minutes. I don't dare to touch her yet. We haven't seen each other in two decades, and today, quite by chance, we ran into each other at the cafe, we gazed at each other for a few seconds, we recognized each other ... I greeted her, I invited her to my table. My friend had just gotten up to leave, had finished his coffee and water. Now that he saw her, he would have stayed to meet her, it was evident that he was curious, but the situation was strange, he had got up to leave, and he is not the type to reconsider the decisions made - he thinks they make him look weak in front of others. Naive, I would have stayed. Yet, I think my gaze sent him the right message, he took his IT bag with his fancy laptop and got on his electric scooter parked in front of the cafe and left. Go! However, he never appreciated the femininity, nor his insignificant existence; for him, the binary code is a strictly masculine definition. Where he sees rules and procedures, I see irregular sinusoidal waves, streams of emotions, smiles, laughter, sweetness, femininity, unsolved theorems, arguing, emotions again, reproaches, quarrels, all built on a tower of beauty, gestures and smiles. I think that's why I like to drink coffee with him at lunch. He is everything I am not, he balances me out and keeps me afloat, he brings me back to the raw reality of the street where even the coffee on the table has a price. It represents the luxury, but also the two euros obligation of the coffee cup. I think I understand his approach and anchoring in seriousness and honored commitments, but I refuse to parade in the name of his values. As I said, he keeps me afloat, he helps me keep up appearances in front of others, he is my friend. So long, he's gone, see you tomorrow at lunchtime in the exact same place, at the cafe on the shady alley downtown. I'm going back to my diva. She is silent, apart from that initial greeting, she said nothing more. She sits and looks at me. How long has it been since then? She still measures me ... Who would have thought? Even today, when I have a break, should we meet like this by chance in a cafe? She's probably waiting for me to unbosom myself, to tell her about my possible wife, my few children, and my brilliant career, which I should at least theoretically have. Well, my sweet blonde, none of this. I remained the same, serious in principle, but undecided on the fundamental issues. When we broke up, things were adolescent, I didn't have these questions, but I think that's what she expects, to make her understand that I'm doing well without her presence in my life, that I'm one of those lucky people who didn't need her divine presence on one of my shoulders. And so it is, once the decision was made, I did not look back, I gave up her blonde waves, but also others. For a while, I became obsessed with brunettes. It held me until I came across the first ginger in my life. She was something completely different, a redhead, she filled my soul with happiness, the only moment in my existence when I really felt the weight of my soul. I was happy! This weight was not given in the imperial system you are familiar with, it was based on degrees of happiness ... and I was up, at the highest level. That's where that redhead took me ... and from there I fell when she had let me go. I hit myself badly. It hurt, it mutilated my body and soul. After all that experience, I was left deserted, without a horizon, I wore a barren grimace, without emotions, which would have qualified me for any vacancy at the Funeral Home. For a while, I didn't want to get involved in anything more serious, I couldn't stay true to anyone, I always changed, I searched, I explored, I was still unhappy, I didn't give relationships a chance to settle down, everything was based on consumption and immediate satisfaction. Those nocturnal relationships gave me the dose of attention I needed like a rabid drug addict. I came to hate everything that gravitated around me. It was as if nothing tasted good anymore, no one offered me any flavor. It took me a while to understand that life is about small moments of joy and happiness, that there is no upward graph of pleasure that everyone dreams of. That projection is in consumer advertising. If you are lucky, you learn to enjoy every moment, smile, sunbeam, female presence and everything else delights your soul. I've probably matured ...
​
"Stay a while?"
"But you didn't leave?" I ask my friend who was already sitting down in the chair he had left a few minutes ago.
"No, I'm staying!" and puts his glass on the table.
"Well, how? Didn't you have a meeting?"
"Yes, but this moment is more important. I think it can wait another ten minutes. Cheers!"
I told you, he is my friend who is always close to me and supports me even at the risk of surprising me sometimes. Reaching out to her, I wipe the condensation off her forehead, I raise my glass and take a good sip from my lager. It's exactly like the one from twenty years ago next to my high school, maybe better dressed and with a better-contoured silhouette, but it has the same taste and flavor.