It was unlikely that the number of extra minutes of life gained on account of the herbal liquor’s wholesome ingredients would ever be scientifically proven, but it clearly had a pleasing effect on everyone’s spirits at least. They chatted away cheerfully about everything imaginable, with pink cheeks and smiling faces. Matjaž had a strategic spot that allowed him to overhear the various debates developing around the table after the dose of ‘medicine’. The conversations to his right were the deeper ones. Ksenja and Kristjan were ruminating on Al Jazeera. ‘You know what!’ said the slightly boisterous Ksenja, ‘if an Arab or someone from Saudi Arabia were to offer to buy us and wanted to create a reputable media, if they were in favour of professional journalism, I’d say, ‘Why not?’ Kristjan lightly pursed his lips before he nodded, even though as a scrupulous agent of free speech he had doubts about Saudi Arabia and Qatar (the human rights, the corrupt élite and so on) and wondered how much autonomy that kind of ownership could allow.
Ksenja reiterated her argument, but Matjaž decided he’d rather follow the conversation that Urša had started from the other side of the table by saying, ‘Humans are not natural!’
‘Yeah, after this many drinks it’s very difficult to act natural,’ Tadej burst out laughing.
‘No!’ explained Urša. ‘Drunk or sober, athletic or a fatty – humans aren’t natural.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Gabi piped up. She was sitting next to Urša – and there was nothing natural about that either.
‘There are studies that look at the body in a more holistic, more complete way,’ Urša said, trying to be clear. ‘According to their findings, the greatest human fallacy is that we can stand and distribute our weight on two legs.’
‘Why?’ Tadej asked.
‘Because it’s not natural,’ said Urša, repeating her original argument.
‘But why isn’t it natural?’
‘I don’t know why, evolution or some such – when humans stand on two legs, they’re living with the impression that their weight is correctly distributed but it’s not, we’re still crooked. The problem is that this impression that we’re natural is the thing that harms the body the most.’
‘Seriously?’ Gabi was now worried.
‘Seriously,’ Urša replied earnestly.
‘So what’s the solution, then?’ Tadej said, turning to her.
‘The solution is that we bear our weight on one leg or the other, but never on both at the same time,’ Urša explained expertly.
‘And then we’re natural?’ asked Gabi.
‘No, of course we’re not, but at least then we’re not pretending that we are,’ Urša informed her.
Her two interlocutors nodded thoughtfully, but Matjaž couldn’t resist the temptation, ‘What’s so bad about the conviction that we’re natural?’
‘Because it means we’re curving our spines, and our extremities suffer the consequences – problems with our back and lower back, rheumatism. All of that can be avoided if you accept that you’re not natural, and if you distribute your weight from one side of the body to another accordingly.’
Silence fell. ‘There are exercises,’ Urša added, as if this further proved her argument.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Matjaž remarked quietly, to himself more than anyone. And then he said aloud, ‘I’m just interested to know how the human race has survived for the last ten thousand years with the erroneous assumption that it’s natural.’
‘It has survived’, Gabi replied sagely, ‘but the real question is, in what way has it survived?’
Matjaž didn’t feel that there was anything else to add to such an argument, so he fell silent, while Urša demonstrated to Tadej and Gabi the exercises that would help humans to drive out the conviction that they were natural.
Sandra, who quite readily accepted the new workout that would bring balance to the human race, eventually said, half joking, ‘But there is, of course, another theory.’ Everyone with the exception of Ksenja and Kristjan, who were still dissecting the possibility of a free press in the Arab world, looked at her inquisitively. ‘Has anyone seen the series Louie?’ she began. Liza was the only one who nodded, although it was clear that she didn’t know what the series had to with humans being crooked.
‘Well, in one episode the main character – Louie – hurts his back’, Sandra summarized, ‘and he goes to a very old doctor. Louie complains that he’s twisted something. The funny thing is that it happens while he’s buying a vibrator. But that’s actually beside the point. The doctor listens to him without interest, and looks away at his sandwich as if to say “What am I supposed to do about it?” And then the doctor gives his spiel. He explains that the problem lies entirely in the fact that a human stands on two legs. At one time we actually walked on all fours and the entire human physiology, with the spine and the arrangement of our internal organs, was based on this. And after more than ten thousand years, the doctor explains, the structure of the human body has still not adjusted to standing on two legs, which is why it causes back pain.’
‘And?’ Gabi asked.
‘So, the doctor gives Louie two options,’ Sandra continued. ‘He can either go back to standing on all fours or he can just wait for the pain to go away. He also adds that he didn’t go to medical school just to deal with nonsense like lower back pain, and invites Louie to come back when he has a serious bacterial or viral infection.’
‘Yes, but is that really true?’ Gabi asked, concerned.
‘I think that your story fits beautifully with mine,’ Urša intervened. ‘Human beings aren’t natural because they only walk on two legs.’
‘What if we walked on all fours, would we be then?’ Liza asked.
‘It would be more natural, by all means,’ said Urša, convinced.
‘Yes but Louie is just fiction!’ Gabi said loudly.
‘Which still doesn’t mean it’s not true,’ Urša said smartly.
‘But whoever believes this theory presents a nice little market niche for those selling it,’ Liza announced wearily. Urša looked at her angrily and fiercely protested that she had seen a very convincing diagram. Liza was ready to say something sarcastic about these little sketches, but Matjaž interrupted her; he felt obliged to interfere in the debate, which was becoming increasingly tense. ‘You put it nicely, though, when you said there’s sometimes more truth in fiction.’
Not too much liquor had flowed when the enterprising Urša organized the music situation with Ksenja’s permission, and was let loose on YouTube. Matjaž and Ronja were now the only pair left at the table watching the dancing couples. ‘Look at that happy group of colleagues – what a beautiful image of the working collective,’ Ronja began.
‘And so why are we both here?’
‘Maybe we’re just not into dancing,’ she smiled charmingly.
‘Maybe somebody is just pretending that they’re not into dancing any more so that others don’t feel guilty about not being into that kind of group enthusiasm,’ Matjaž looked at her questioningly.
‘Nah, but she is a young mum and there are some things that are no longer becoming,’ she remarked sarcastically.
‘I never knew that you took societally designated roles so seriously,’ he retorted.
‘I don’t. My husband does, though,’ she replied ironically.
‘Lucky husband, having such an obedient little wife.’
Meanwhile, Tadej had got very close to Sandra, and only with a great deal of leniency could their swaying be considered dancing.
‘I was never into dancing in pairs, anyway,’ Ronja said honestly.
‘Me neither,’ agreed Matjaž. He noticed that in Andrej’s arms the loud-mouthed Liza had stopped talking altogether, although his head was drooping suspiciously on her shoulder.
‘I think our troubadour’s had a bit too much to drink,’ Matjaž said, expertly judging the scene.
‘The poor guy’s earned it,’ Ronja said kindly.
Meanwhile Kristjan was gallantly leading hi
s boss around the dance floor, while she tenderly placed her head on his shoulder during some of the slower songs. As she did this, Ronja’s watchful eye failed to see that Kristjan was also softly stroking her back. At first Urša and Gabi jumped around next to one another, until Roko ensnared the hot-tempered Catholic and led her into a whirl of quick-footed polka, carried out to the unconventional accompaniment of Nirvana.
‘You see, now there’s a couple in the making,’ Ronja said.
‘You reckon?’ Matjaž was surprised.
‘Where’d you get that idea from?’
‘Roko was rather obviously selective in his decision,’ Ronja explained.
‘How can you say that, when you’ve not been at work for God knows how long?’ Matjaž protested.
‘It’s an observation, my dear Watson, an observation. Tiny details – to whom did he first offer the sweetmeats? Whose side did he take during the debate about humans not being natural? Gabi.’
‘And what about her?’
‘She still hasn’t quite noticed his affections, but I doubt she’ll resist too much when she does. It’s clear she wants a boyfriend.’
‘I shan’t ask where you got that idea from.’
‘Oh, it’s simple – because every, well, practically every, girl her age wants a boyfriend. Unless she’s a lesbian, but Gabi definitely isn’t.’ Matjaž nodded at Ronja’s clearly superior detective skills.
‘Urša does not like it in the slightest,’ she added. ‘Although right now what she wants more than anything is someone to dance with, whoever shows up first.’ And it was true – the sight of Urša, who carried on pretending to enjoy dancing by herself, revealed that she wasn’t really happy about it. In the next few moments she confirmed this herself, when she came over to beg Matjaž to join her.
‘Sorry, I’ve hurt my foot,’ he apologized.
‘Have you really?’ Urša was dismayed, like any loyal colleague would be, but the expression on Ronja’s face made her realize that he was joking. ‘Honestly!’ she said, trying to protest seductively.
‘OK, fine, but I really do have a problem with my foot: I’ve got two left ones,’ Matjaž continued. Urša just shook her head, showing that his argument was not convincing.
‘How about if I tell you that both of my feet have gone to sleep?’ he looked at her, pleadingly.
With a wrinkled forehead she looked him over, then let it go. ‘Have it your way, but you owe me,’ she smiled. Her desperation was such that she then even asked Ronja, who also gently declined the offer. And so, obviously keen for a party, she found her own rhythm on the dance floor. And no sooner had Liza gone to the bathroom, Urša seized Andrej, who was by this point in need of a strong, supportive dance partner. When she returned, a disgruntled Liza found her chosen one in the arms of the other woman. She sat down near them for a while, eventually abandoning all hope. Then Andrej lowered his head towards the lawn and gave back something that nature had given to him. Liza stood up and calmly concluded, ‘I think I know when the party’s over.’ And she left.
‘You see, she also had illicit intentions, but now she’s realized that it’s not going to happen – at least not tonight,’ Ronja said, schooling Matjaž.
‘Are you kidding me? With Andrej?’
‘Of course! Beneath that cynical façade there are some fairly strong feelings smouldering for our Andrej the Liberal. Urša had gone to put Andrej to bed, but she promptly returned and continued her fight for the party.
‘What about Tadej and Sandra?’ Matjaž asked.
‘Hm,’ said Ronja, starting to study them closely. ‘There’s potential there, definitely. Look at how relaxed Sandra is, how she loves smiling at him even though we know he’s not all that – how to put it – he’s not very sharp.’
‘But they hardly say a word to each other at work!’ Matjaž protested.
‘And this, my dear Watson, is why we have office parties, where people can get a little bit closer to one another.’
‘But doesn’t Sandra have a long-term boyfriend?’ asked Matjaž.
‘Oh dear Watson, of course she does, but luckily she also has a very poor memory. Believe me, tomorrow she and Tadej will have forgotten about today’s adventure, no problem.’
To Matjaž’s surprise, Ronja’s detailed predictions started to come true. Urša was leaping around to the legendary eighties hit ‘Bolje biti pijan nego star’ while sipping her liqueur, with a clearer conscience than the other dancers. The remaining couple, Sandra and Tadej, weren’t paying any attention to their surroundings. Matjaž and Ronja watched Kristjan and Ksenja. ‘So, by your reckoning, will today be a pivotal step in our colleague’s career?’ asked Matjaž.
‘Very possibly. Undoubtedly, in fact,’ confirmed Ronja, giving her expert opinion. ‘Our dear hostess isn’t in the happiest of marriages, and she needs to be close to someone.’
‘But how do you know that?’ Matjaž asked, becoming irritated that one person could be so insightful about relationships.
‘Well, I listened. That’s what people are saying. Her mum is friends with my aunt.’ Matjaž gave a faint nod, and Ronja continued, ‘And then there’s the extremely visible evidence – how quickly she gave in to Kristjan’s barely disguised intentions, the fleeting touch, the flattery, how she forgot about the other guests.’
‘And how will this all turn out? Also with a poor memory?’ enquired Matjaž.
‘Exactly, dear Watson,’ Ronja praised him, ‘only in this case there’ll be a price to pay for the amnesia. But they’re aware of that already,’ she added smartly.
‘Are you suggesting that Kristjan will get preferential treatment at work?’
‘Exactly, but she’s also very cunning, because Kristjan already gets preferential treatment. And because he’s a careerist, in the strongest sense of the word, because he wants to make a name for himself, because he really wants to be someone, there’s no worry that he’ll become lazy or not do his job properly. One night of passion and they both gain something; or at least, neither really loses anything …’
‘Sherlock, I’m impressed!’
‘Thank you, my dear Watson, thank you very much,’ laughed Ronja.
The dancing had clearly taken it out of Urša, and after the end of her song she sat down, exhausted, and poured herself some beer. She downed it in one. ‘Dehydration,’ she said, as she quenched her thirst and hiccupped loudly. Then she couldn’t stop hiccupping, and tried to get rid of the nuisance by pouring more beer down her gullet, which in the end only resulted in her calling out a farewell of ‘You lot are all so miserable! Hic!’ Matjaž and Ronja returned a polite smile in her direction, followed by a burst of laughter once the drunkard was out of sight.
They sat for a while watching the last remaining dancing couple. ‘Well, any more thoughts?’ Matjaž probed her.
‘I think we’ve had all there is to be gained from this spectacle,’ she replied.
‘You’re not ready for bed are you?’ he worried.
‘You clearly aren’t,’ she said, giving him a roguish look.
‘No, I can’t sleep when there’s still so much blood in my alcohol,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders.
‘Fine, I’d quite like to dilute my blood a bit, too, let’s go for a walk. The young couple deserve a bit of privacy.’
Matjaž grabbed the bottle of liqueur, or whatever was left of it, and the two of them left. Obviously the walk was just an excuse to get away from the terrace dance floor and for them to take refuge under the enormous cypress tree on the other side of the house. There they set themselves up, just drinking and smoking for a while.
‘So tell me honestly now,’ Matjaž began, ‘are you happy with that brat?’
‘Honestly? Is a young mother even allowed to say anything against her child these days?’ She drank a little more, and said thoughtfully, ‘I’d be lying if I said that I’m happy. Ever since he was born, I’ve been too tired to be happy. But I was never such big fan of happiness anyway. Happiness is for simp
letons and people with no creative spirit.’
‘OK, so do you ever think about returning him to the state, or depositing him somewhere and picking him again when he knows how to talk and wipe his own arse?’
‘It crosses my mind now and again. But I’d do that with my husband first,’ she added jokingly.
‘He doesn’t hit you, does he?’
‘No, it’s not that.’
‘He doesn’t hit you enough?’
Ronja smiled, and with a bitterness in her voice she went on, ‘Do you know what he said to me the other day? It’s a bit wrong me telling you this, given that I’ve not seen you in over a year …’
‘And because I haven’t always been the best of listeners,’ he added.
‘Well, I was trying to be diplomatic.’
‘Today, Ronja, I’m all yours. Go on!’
‘OK, so when I asked my husband half-jokingly if we were going to have sex any time soon, because since Ivor was born we just haven’t, he said I’d have to take up running before that happened …’ With that, her voice lost its spark.
‘What the! Outrageous!’ Matjaž blurted out, being funny. ‘As if you’d become one of those types that runs around relentlessly in public spaces at all hours of the day!’
Ronja joined in with this frank dislike of healthy living, ‘And now they do it in swarms, they chase down every street like mosquitoes, even the busiest ones, while respectable people are in the pub having a beer and smoking cigarettes.’
‘I agree, it should be banned!’
‘They ought to go back to the parks, their natural, healthy environment, they ought to do it at night when no one can see them,’ Ronja continued militantly.
They sipped their drinks and sat quietly for a while.
Matjaž had a brainwave.
‘I’d send them all off to an alcohol familiarization clinic,’ he avowed.
Ronja looked at him with interest. ‘I’m all ears …’
Jela Krecic Page 18