Jela Krecic Read online

  Saša

  The dance was clearly therapeutic for Katja, as afterwards she could be seen chatting with strangers with her old enthusiasm and appetite for life. He noticed with some concern that it was only eleven and the present company was already getting out of control. This was certainly not helped by the drinking game being led by Suzana and five friends. Nor did it help that the others had turned the music up even louder and were increasingly losing it. He looked around, familiar faces everywhere, people euphoric from alcohol and God knows what else. Gašper was chatting with some curly redheaded women that Matjaž didn’t recognize. She had a pretty freckled face hiding beneath her lively mane. What a shame, he thought to himself, that this beauty had fallen into the clutches of such an idiot, even if only for one night. Maybe redheads go for each other. Until this point he’d never considered them a minority, probably feeling uncomfortable in their own skin – especially if their ginger hair was accompanied by pale skin, freckles and perhaps yellowed teeth, too.

  When he stepped on to the balcony for a bit of fresh air, his thoughts wandered to Aleksander. He was slightly angry at him for taking Karla to the seaside on New Year’s Eve. He hoped that it was colder there than it was in Ljubljana, that the wind was blowing a gale, that the heating wasn’t working, that there was no hot water and that they were drinking tea all evening just to keep warm. Aleksander’s text had tried to convince him of the opposite, that they were having a nice time in their small apartment in Rovinj as they could smoke there, and what a shame it was that he didn’t go with them but no doubt he will meet some babe on NYE if Suzana’s hospitality meant anything in this world . . . What a shame, Matjaž thought ironically, that he wasn’t down in Istria being a third wheel. He replied saying that there were several babes at the party, but that he was in no mood for the chase and he was dedicating the evening to humanitarian activity. That sentence was sure to confuse Aleksander. It was Katja he had in mind, although he didn’t know that his humanitarian activity was not yet over for the evening.

  Saša stepped on to the balcony.

  ‘All alone, are we?’ she asked, offering an ambiguous smile.

  ‘What?’ said Matjaž, as if she’d awoken him from a trance. ‘Where did you come from? I thought you’d be somewhere warm,’ he said, almost with relief, after he eventually recognized the familiar face now framed by a light-coloured bob. It took him just a few seconds to remember Orto Bar, the embarrassing morning with engagement rings made out of ring pulls, and the minor quarrel between the newly engaged couple about weather forecasts, all right before they eventually split up.

  ‘You only just remembered, you scoundrel . . .’ She looked at him scornfully, and without waiting for a response she carried on, comfortably enough. ‘What do I know? At first we were out and about, then Šeki – my boyfriend (she said this with particular emphasis) – got Suzana’s invite and we decided to spend the evening with company,’ Saša said, almost with pride.

  ‘Šeki, I see! Didn’t take you long to forget about your fiancée, did it . . .’ Matjaž retorted, throwing in a little ironic scorn.

  ‘Me? You were the one who cruelly dashed all of my hopes, all my appreciation for the seasons!’ Saša exclaimed. Šeki, who had clearly noticed the animated movements of his charming girlfriend, moved towards them. Matjaž was afraid that the skinny guy with long dreads and squinted eyes was going to burst into a fit of jealousy, but as he approached them he just offered out his limp hand and introduced himself. Then they stood in silence for several long seconds.

  ‘Nice hair,’ Matjaž said finally, bothered somewhat by the awkward silence.

  ‘Thanks,’ Šeki said, gently tugging at one of his dreads.

  ‘Do they take a lot of looking after?’ Matjaž asked, trying to make conversation with this new acquaintance.

  ‘Not at all!’ Saša joined in, explaining. ‘That’s the idea, that you don’t wash them.’

  ‘For a long, long time,’ added Šeki proudly.

  ‘You don’t wash them for a really, really long time and they just somehow fuse together. Well, maybe you help them along a bit so they’re evenly spaced around your head . . .’ Saša explained with great enthusiasm.

  ‘You don’t help them along at all, what are you on about! Patience, superhuman patience, mate – that’s the secret.’ Šeki became animated, obviously proud of the long-term effort that he’d invested in his distinguished hairstyle.

  ‘Sorry, babe, you know what I meant,’ replied Saša with a fearful respect, blushing.

  ‘Pft’ Šeki waved his hand, as if teaching idiots about the cleanliness of hair was just too much for him, and walked over to some other people.

  ‘Congratulations, you seem like a very happy couple,’ Matjaž said to Saša, once again with a hint of scepticism, as she looked over towards her boyfriend miserably.

  ‘I know what you’re doing. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re sharp and sarcastic, because you’re desperate yourself, you’re down and out and you can’t bear to see others happy! But everything’s great with Šeki, really good, get it? Never been better, for your information!’ Saša said, getting angry and leaving the balcony. Matjaž watched and saw that she couldn’t hold back her tears before she got to the bathroom. What an evening, he thought to himself. An evening when he’d driven girls to tears and was then almost sorry for his own unkindness.

  He smoked and looked around at what was going on inside. Saša came back from the bathroom red-faced and looking upset. She looked around for Šeki and noticed that he was talking with a guy. Matjaž realized that Gašper and Šeki had clearly found some common ground in terms of weed – at least that’s how it looked, as the two of them showed each other small bags with green contents and talked at great length. He imagined them discussing the origin of this noble grass, its source and quality. Saša went up to the two guys and tenderly put her arms around Šeki’s waist, but he ignored her. When she tried to include herself in the conversation he avoided her at first, turning his back on her as if he hadn’t noticed her. It confused her. Anger and tears welled up in her eyes; she was on the verge of running straight back to the bathroom. Matjaž put out his half-smoked cigarette, let out a deep breath, shook his head and stepped in from the balcony. He stood in front of Saša and said, loud enough for Šeki, Gašper and everyone else to hear, ‘Oh there you are! Where did you go, I was looking for you!’ He yelled so loudly that he almost drowned out the music. Saša looked at him, trembling, and finally said in a low voice, ‘Stop messing about Matjaž, I’m really not in the mood!’ Matjaž took her by the arm to a small inconspicuous sofa where there was just about enough room for two behinds.

  ‘Are you crazy? Are you completely messed up?’ she berated him, with fear in her voice.

  ‘So what if you’ve got a boyfriend,’ he continued loudly, as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘He doesn’t deserve you!’ Matjaž kept looking over towards Šeki, to see if he had noticed his efforts.

  Confused by Matjaž’s behaviour, Saša said, ‘I’ll be the one to decide who deserves me and who doesn’t – or, more importantly, what I deserve myself. And I’m convinced that I don’t deserve you on New Year’s Eve.’ She started to get up, but he pulled her back down forcefully.

  He moved in towards her face, making her think that he was going to kiss her, but just whispered, ‘Listen, your Šeki is no good, believe me. I’ve spent enough time with myself to know what it means to be a bad guy. If you keep letting him walk all over you, he’s just going to hurt you even more. My advice? Leave him!’

  ‘But I love him!’ The words surged out of her almost too loudly. That somewhat complicates the situation, thought Matjaž.

  ‘OK, well, on the other hand, if you act a bit more hard to get and look more open to respectable options around you, then he might start to squirm. Do you understand?’

  Saša had calmed down now and was nodding obediently. Then she bowed her head, as if lost in her thoughts. Matjaž gently touched her chin, li
fting her head, and said, ‘Speak, woman!’

  ‘I know you’re right,’ she started slowly. ‘This is my problem. When I fall in love, I immediately give my all. I don’t have any reserves – as you well know. And then one by one, everyone starts acting towards me like . . . well, you know, how you did. And with you I had a feeling that we could have a great future,’ she added.

  ‘OK, now I see that intuition isn’t your best friend either,’ he replied concernedly.

  ‘Don’t make fun of me, I’m aware that I have no control over my own feelings.’

  ‘OK, but tell me. How did you end up with him? True, you’re not exactly a rocket scientist yourself, but to me, he seems a bit . . . simple.’

  ‘But he’s not! He’s not thick. Šeki reads a lot, and he writes, too,’ she protested. ‘He’s going to go to uni. To study philosophy and sociology. Sometimes he writes poetry. When he was still in love with me, he wrote poems for me. So beautiful, you know! I know one of them by heart. I can recite it to you . . .’

  ‘Woah no, not that, please. I’ve suffered enough this evening.’

  ‘Fine.’ Saša lowered her head, sniffling like a little mouse. ‘Anyway, on the inside he’s really kind and warm. It’s only in a group that he acts like a closet intellectual. To me it’s weird, but I try to respect him.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘What’s wrong is that I think he’s losing interest in me. I just don’t interest him enough any more. I’m too dumb.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. You still have a nice figure, which you dress up extremely well.’ Matjaž failed to console her as he gazed at her long legs in fishnet tights, barely covered by a short red dress.

  ‘But as we both well know, men get tired of women’s bodies if there’s nothing else to offer. So I started reading. That Deluze, or whatever you call him, who Šeki loves so much, and that Fullcoat, or however you pronounce it . . . but I don’t understand anything! It’s all Greek to me. Then I read some poetry and I ran into a similar problem. I’m stupid, and men treat me that way.’

  ‘Enough now. I’m not going to listen to you putting yourself down like this. Do you think that Šeki understands Deleuze and Foucault? Do you think he gets it all? There’s a lot of bluffing going on there, probably all of it. Maybe Šeki does write nice poems, but so what! Maybe he likes to read, but so what! If he knew anything at all, and especially if he understood anything at all, he’d know how to look after his girl. Don’t ever be taken in by male superiority – there are usually small, frightened souls hiding behind that arrogance.’

  ‘But what does that make me, if I can’t even impress one of those losers?’ Saša complained, in a moment of realization. She looked at Matjaž, distressed.

  ‘Well, you’re a young girl who hasn’t had much luck in her choice of partners. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’ll find someone yet, you just need to show a little more self-confidence. You’re a great girl and there aren’t many of those around.’

  ‘But I want Šeki!’ whined Saša.

  ‘You want Šeki now, but maybe by tomorrow some Fleki will have popped up.’

  ‘You’re so cynical!’ What if this love is meant to be?’ she appealed.

  ‘Look, I’m really not a cynic. I just know how many stupid things a woman will do out of the need for someone to love her. She quickly confuses happiness over the fact that someone finally likes her for her own genuine admiration for that person. Just think about how quickly you got engaged to a complete idiot like me.’

  Saša thought for a moment, then she smiled and said in a conciliatory tone, ‘You’re not a total idiot.’

  ‘Thanks very much,’ Matjaž laughed, and the two of them took each other’s hands. At that moment Šeki started walking towards them, looking jealously towards Matjaž.

  ‘If you’re interested in hairstyles, you can come and have a quiet word with me,’ he began curtly.

  ‘Oh no, mate, Saša and I are talking about love,’ Matjaž said, turning towards him nonchalantly.

  ‘About love?’ Šeki raised his voice, and was clearly unaccustomed to such bold tones coming from his own mouth.

  ‘Yeah, you know, about when a man falls in love with a woman, and when a woman falls in love with a man,’ Matjaž answered, just as relaxed as before, casting glances at Saša.

  ‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ a frightened Saša interrupted. Šeki signalled with his hand that it was now his turn to speak.

  ‘Listen, poor curly boy, I’m the only one that talks to my girl about love. Is that clear? There’s a whole range of birds here for you to talk about love with, and I’ll keep right out of your way – ’

  ‘But we were just talking!’ interrupted Matjaž.

  ‘Just talking!’ Šeki let out a breath and snorted in disgust. ‘Talking – as if love exists beyond words!’ He was offended by Matjaž’s ignorance. ‘Come on, darling, let the two of us go and have a little debate about love ourselves now.’ He offered his hand out to Saša, pulled her towards him, hugged her and took her away. As the two of them walked away, Saša looked back towards Matjaž, smiled at him and winked.

  Maria

  When Matjaž went to the bathroom, after having done his Good Samaritan deed, he felt a woman’s hand give his palm a firm squeeze. He turned around to see the beautiful redhead, who had the smiling face of someone who has the impression that they know you. His mind filled with scenes from Metelkova in summer, autumn scenes from the Billiard House and Orto Bar, scenes from Respect, scenes from work. Then from secondary school and, just in case, from primary school, as far back as his memory served him. He sifted through memories of summer holidays, winter festivities, camping madness, and then in the end he even tried to envision all of the neighbours and acquaintances from travelling he’d known in his lifetime. All without success. Meanwhile they were already hugging like friends and exchanging small talk.

  Before Matjaž could even speak, the beautiful girl was already jabbering away in full swing. It hadn’t been five minutes and he had found out that she was studying in the USA – at Duke, to be precise. With that she smiled significantly and drew breath, ‘Ivy League and all that.’ She was very happy there. She’d decided to study comparative literature – complit, as they called it. It was really expensive to study there, but she’d got a scholarship. Those experiences were priceless; she really recommended studying abroad – if possible, of course. The professors were a lot more serious there than they were here, they were available to students all the time; for them it was about really educating their students. The downside was that it was a lot of work, but it was satisfying. And in comparison to what she’d experienced here, the professors really dedicated themselves to your work. Oh yes, she’d already said that, ha ha. At Duke the professors marked you harshly, of course, which could be damaging to your ego – ‘We’re not all native speakers, are we?’ – but, she continued, that actually helped when you were young, to shape you as a thinker, as a figure, as a person; the kind of person, a human, that really lived within society. ‘Do you see what I mean?’

  Before Matjaž got the opportunity to explain that there had been a misunderstanding and they didn’t in fact know each other, she beat him to it once again. She’d give anything to be able to stay in the USA, for postgrad study too, maybe even get a Ph.D. there, and Professor Jenkins – or was it Professor Jameson? She always got those two mixed up, ha ha – who she really got on with said to her that maybe then he could even supervise her. But for her to be able to afford that she’d need a job. ‘I don’t know what exactly, maybe I could do some tutoring . . .’ She thought for a moment. At this point Matjaž wanted to run away, but he didn’t manage it. Her small, dainty hand held on to his shoulder and she was now starting to feel quite heavy. The redhead then threw in how she would have to, if she applied to do a Ph.D. with Professor Jenkins – ‘or is it Jameson, oh dear, I’ve clearly drunk too much, ha ha’ – publish something, in some serious journal, or e
ven better a book, but a book was no mean feat, especially over there, although not just there, the competition was immense. Thousands of young doctoral graduates were just waiting for their opportunity. Yeah, sometimes she loses confidence in herself, but Professor Jenkins (or Jameson?) was so helpful, supportive. But again, you just couldn’t imagine how many intelligent, really intelligent and talented people tried to make it, and who was she – especially being a foreigner — to really succeed. ‘But Professor Jenkins, Jameson, oh, it doesn’t matter . . .’ The more she spoke, the less attractive she seemed to Matjaž. He saw pretentiousness in her curls, stupidity in her freckles, vanity in her smile, and in her gestures – argh!

  ‘Who even are you?’ he interrupted her in the middle of her prattle.

  ‘Stop messing with me, Zoran!’

  ‘Interesting. I’m not Zoran,’ he said coldly.

  The girl burst out laughing at the top of her voice, ‘That is so typical of you – you see that I’m not wearing my glasses, and straight away you’re taking the piss.’

  ‘Glasses?’ Matjaž was surprised.

  ‘Very good, Zoki, very good. Only how can you be sure that I don’t have my contacts in?’ she smiled at him, as if she couldn’t be fooled so easily.

  ‘Because you seem to think I’m Zoki,’ he replied calmly.

  ‘Ha ha, very funny. Well if you’re not Zoki, then why did you listen to me for such a long time?’

  ‘I was just asking myself the same question,’ he let slip.

  ‘Well, get you, all superior!’ she said, becoming irritated. ‘You know so many people, so many acquaintances, so many pretty birds, so much of all that, that of course you can’t remember Maria among it all.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Maria,’ he said, extending his hand. He then headed to the bathroom, but her beseeching voice intercepted him.