‘Zofija, i.e. Lovro’s mum, entered like a hurricane. She started bitching about Croats even before she’d found time to say hello to Lovro, Sonja or our parents, because someone had nicked her purse on the ferry. Borut just sat down on the terrace and calmly started reading. Sonja asked Zofija if she was sure she hadn’t merely misplaced it somewhere. “Nonsense!” she cried. “Those Croatian pirates stole it from me, they probably saw my new watch!” At this point she lifted her fat left arm so everyone could admire her fortieth wedding anniversary present from Borut. Then she carried on: “I’ve searched through everything, I’ve checked and I can’t find it. Isn’t that right, Borut? That’s why we’ve just come to say hello, we’re heading off to the police station now – isn’t that right, Borut? – so at least it will be reported. I don’t hold out much hope that any sort of barbarian from around here would return foreign property.” The rest of us tried to persuade her that it would be more practical for her to first cancel her cards, if she was certain that the purse really was gone for good, but Zofija just cast a feeble glance back at Borut, beseeching him to support her plan. Naturally, she didn’t get anything from him. He just sighed “Uhuh” and “That’s right!” every now and again. So she stuck to her plan of going straight to the police station, with or without Borut. Nothing we did helped; not our offer of coffee, nor charcuterie, nor a fantastic chocolate torte that Sonja had made for her specially. That was when we knew that it was serious.’
‘And?’ Matjaž enquired.
‘She got mad at her husband just like in a movie, and decided to take matters into her own hands. She gave Lovro an accusatory look, which of course he skilfully avoided until Sonja dropped him in it, saying, “Lovro, maybe you could leap to your mum’s aid!”
‘ “At least there’s someone who understands a woman in need!” Zofija complained, and turned towards the car.
‘ “I’m just getting the keys,” Lovro said.
‘ “Take your dad’s car,” insisted his mother. “I’m not going in any other. You know how bad my back is and how sensitive I am to the air conditioning. It’s all set to my levels and I’m not going in any other car!’”
‘Lovro nodded submissively, turned towards his father and said, “Dad, please could I have the keys so that I can carry out this charade with Mum?”
‘ “They’re in that bag!” said Borut, without taking his head out of the newspaper. Lovro looked around, spotted three bags in addition to the two enormous suitcases and started rifling through them.
‘ “Dad”, he said, “I can’t find these bloody keys anywhere … Hang on, what is that? Mum!” He turned quickly towards Zofija, who was at this point already waiting by the car and puffing in the apparently unbearable heat of Hvar.
‘ “What is it?” she shouted back.
‘ “Is your purse big and red?”
‘ “Yes. Made of crocodile skin, a present from your dad for our thirty-ninth wedding anniversary,” she yelled.
‘ “Dad, is this her purse?” asked Lovro, showing him the great big red thing, which he’d found while searching unsuccessfully for the keys. Borut passed a fleeting glance over the thing and mumbled that it looked like her purse, and quickly diverted his attention back to his newspaper again.
‘“Lovro, what are you waiting for now?” He heard the vocal Zofija once again.
‘ “Mum, I’ve found your bloody purse!”
‘“What are you talking about, have you no shame?” she shouted at him, and slowly started to return towards the apartment, while loudly asking where damned thing had been and who found it and why didn’t they find it before. When she got back, she had to immediately consume some cake as her nerves had been so shot since Zagreb onwards, and nothing helps as much as a high-calorie Nutella cake. So the three couples, two of which are probably the most unbearable on the entire island, sat down at the table.’
‘And then they all had a civilized chat about the weather and world hunger?’ Matjaž joked.
‘Yeah, right. I don’t know if I told you this but, in contrast to my parents, Lovro’s are passionate atheists and quite left-wing in their beliefs. So the debate soon led down precisely the path that my Mum and Sonja wanted to avoid, and Zofija and Stojan were just waiting for a chance to come to blows with one another. Zofija praised Kučan and the Left, who never squeezed Slovenia dry like Janez Janša and his lot did. My Dad, a passionate Janša man, of course replied that the Left had been in power an awful lot longer and it was therefore logical that they were responsible for the shit Slovenia was in now.
‘Sonja intervened, saying that we were by the sea, she was about to get married and there was no need for us to involve ourselves with daily politics. Lovro added that the problems were systemic anyway, and that Slovenia was part of a larger and equally complicated system. My mum said it wasn’t very Christian to have political debates on such a beautiful island. Zofija and Stojan got even angrier at all this, and Borut took himself and his newspaper off to the sea to find some shade.
‘Zofija insisted that if you looked at it from a purely practical perspective, Slovenia had no better alternative than the Left, but Stojan said such talk was typical of the apathetic Communist Party generation that slept on a bed of roses and did nothing to fulfil its civic duties. Then at this point Zofija really flew off the handle, referring to the socialist labour brigades and insisting that even though she didn’t take part in them they should remind us of that generation’s effort, which enabled these two young people to get married in the first place – and, what’s more, here on this beautiful island.
‘The only thing the two of them could agree on was the wedding cake, which was “satisfactory”, and after that they delighted in continuing their argument, obviously choosing not to hear Lovro’s remark that it was he who had made the wedding on this island possible, with his wages. This rather annoyed Sonja, who likewise had contributed a share of the money. Then the row was going on at both ends, so it wasn’t difficult for Samo and I to get away from that mad lot. I mentioned to Mum that we still had a whole host of things to do before the wedding, but she was too het up by all the arguing to really register that we were leaving.’
‘And where’s poor Samo now?’
‘He’s not poor at all, he went to pick up Zala and Špela from the ferry.’
‘And what’s the big deal with that?’
‘Our Samo has sordid intentions with those two,’ said Brigita conspiratorially.
‘Really? Like what? Is he going to take them out for an ice cream?’
‘No, maybe even for a glass of red – at least until the situation calms down, he confided in me.’
‘But is that it, then, in terms of guests?’ Matjaž asked.
‘As if! Tomorrow we’ve still got Lovro’s brother, Leon, and his grandma coming, then a few cousins, aunts and uncles should be invading as well. And Sonja’s also invited quite a few more relatives – it’s going to be a rather large wedding, I fear … Luckily, though, the majority of them will be left to their own devices when it comes to sleeping arrangements. Sonja just ordered two or three boats to take everyone to the neighbouring island.’
‘Ugh, that’s quite a handful, though.’
‘Tell me about it, and I’m the bridesmaid, too. I’m going to be under constant fire from all directions.’
‘What are you wearing?’ asked Matjaž.
‘You’re just saying that to wind me up, aren’t you?’ she replied, looking at him from underneath her eyebrows.
‘No, honestly, I’m interested.’
‘What will you wear?’
‘I’ll have a suit on, obviously.’
‘I didn’t expect such professionalism from a photographer like you.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean? Next you’ll be saying you didn’t notice I was a man of style.’ Brigita laughed and confessed to him what she’d be wearing. Matjaž noticed that while she was telling him about her simple dress with a few tasteful details, she wasn’t d
oing a very good job of hiding her enthusiasm about it, and maybe even about the ceremony itself.
Her eyes sparkled while she talked, and Matjaž remarked, ‘You do realize that your eyes are sparkling while you’re talking about all this bourgeois excess?’
‘Why do you have to ruin everything?’ said Brigita, getting annoyed. ‘Why does everything have to be a joke or a piss-take, why can’t you just listen to me?’ She bowed her head and pulled that pretty, frowning face like a child.
Matjaž stroked her hair and apologized, ‘Even I don’t really know why I said that. I’m probably just jealous that you’re going to look better than me.’ Brigita’s face brightened up a little, and she stroked his hand.
Afternoon turned into evening and the two of them, walking towards the centre of town, stopped off at various places and conversed about all the important things in life. They went to the outskirts of the other bay for something to eat and had an involved discussion about films, which chiefly meant that they ranked famous actresses – by their looks, sex appeal and any interesting trivia.
After that instalment they agreed that the night was young and that the fish dinner deserved to swim around in a little more red wine. They found a suitable bar on a little side street, so as to avoid potentially bumping into any wedding guests, who were probably already swarming around the place. The main question for Matjaž and Brigita here was the role of poetry and other literary forms, in terms of how much they could really impact the wider population. They established that, unfortunately, there were too few decent comedies these days, but the most endangered type of poetry – just as Marx had once claimed – was the extinct form of the epic. Then, feeling a certain pressure to maintain a sense of good humour in their lives, they both had to agree that popular music was the great exception, a place where poetry remained very much alive, for instance in the opus of Justin Bieber or One Direction.
On the way to the bar next door they were already listing their favourite lyricists. Brigita tended towards the side of the Beatles, Seattle grunge and David Bowie, while Matjaž preferred the Stones and the jazz artists, with Louis Armstrong at the top of the pile – ‘So what if I like old jazz and somehow just can’t relate to the contemporary stuff?’ he said to Brigita, excusing himself. Aside from that, he was seriously into Bach.
‘Which Bach?’
‘Johann Sebastian, duh! What were you thinking of?’
‘That catastrophe, Richard Bach.’
‘But we’re talking about poetry,’ Matjaž said.
‘I know, yes, strange are the ways of the subconscious.’
At the fourth successive bar, Brigita looked at her phone. Matjaž noticed the look of surprise on her face and asked, ‘What is it?’
‘Fifteen missed calls.’ She turned white in an instant.
‘Jesus, what is going on?’
It turned out that one of those calls was from Sonja. Brigita called her back immediately, but she didn’t pick up. Then she called Lovro, to try and get some idea of what was going on, but his phone went unanswered, too. Samo’s phone was turned off.
‘He clearly doesn’t want to be disturbed while he’s keeping Špela and Zala company,’ Brigita grumbled. Next she called the person who had called her the most. It wasn’t her mother with six calls, but Zofija with eight. Matjaž could only make sense of the phone call through Brigita’s replies.
‘Hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear … Never mind where I am, what’s the crisis? Seriously?’ Brigita’s face dropped. ‘No, I can’t get hold of her … nor him.’ She started running her fingers through her hair with her free hand. ‘Yeah, it’s best if you do … No, I’ll take care of that. With Samo, yes, or whoever else,’ she said, looking at Matjaž. ‘Of course, drink it all!’ She smiled, and then became serious again when she had to relay instructions. ‘There’s a bottle of whisky in Sonja’s car, and another in the cupboard. Beers are in the fridge … I think so, that should be enough.’ Her forehead wrinkled again slightly from the tense deliberation. ‘Wine? I understand, just in case … True, my Dad could drive Gandhi to alcoholism … I think there’s a few litres in the same cupboard … Sure, just give me call if you can’t find it.’ She raised her eyebrows, and in a calm voice said, ‘Mum? Yes, put her on the phone … Hi Mum! … Nothing much, I went for a bit of a wander, I just felt like it … I heard, yes. No, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,’ she said unconvincingly. ‘Of course I will.’ Then she went a bit red. ‘No, I haven’t had anything to drink. Why do you ask? … No, maybe I’m a bit tired after swimming … .’ The wrinkles gathered on her forehead again; these were from lying, Matjaž decided.
‘I went swimming all the same. I’m with Ana now, yeah, having dinner, yeah, we’re getting on really well …’ She raised her eyebrows, while Matjaž felt a pleasant shudder all over his body, as he took that as a personal compliment. Then she added rudely, ‘Of course I’ll go! I’ve been calling her constantly! I know Lovro’s unreachable! … And Samo, yes!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘No, I think it’ll all be fine … Of course I’ll ring if I hear anything.’ Now she firmly gritted her teeth. ‘I know it’s hard being a parent, especially at times like this. Mum, don’t worry … or rather, have a drink, your conscience will be clear.’ She planted her palm on her forehead, growing weary of the conversation. ‘I’m sorry, I know you don’t drink, you just have the odd tipple. I just wanted to say that today of all days you can enjoy a tipple in peace, and I’ll call you if I find out anything.’ The hand on her head became restless, and squeezed her whole face. ‘I love you, too, yes. Yes Mum, yes, yes, I know that you sacrificed everything for us, now just pass the phone back to Zofija. Yes, mwah to you too, bye.’
Brigita put the phone down and hiccupped. ‘It appears our lovebirds have had a row and in the maelstrom of war have disappeared into the unknown. The wedding’s off,’ she said, summing up several minutes of phone call.
‘What?’
‘Oops, sorry, yeah, it’s over. Hic,’ she hiccupped.
‘Yes, but what happened?’
‘Clearly that stuff about work, money, earnings caused a slightly more serious conflict. Hic,’ said Brigita.
‘Stop hiccupping, pull yourself together. You promised to look for them, and that’s what we have to do!’ He looked at her severely.
‘Hic, but how should I know where to look for them, hic?’ She was being rather hesitant.
‘We’ll do it systematically, from bar to bar, pier to pier,’ Matjaž encouraged her.
He took her by the hand and together the two of them wound their way around Hvar. At first things looked utterly hopeless; they’d visited everywhere possible, even the more hidden bars and restaurants, and had even asked after two people looking lost, but no luck. Not only that, but Brigita’s hiccups were still clinging on. At one point Samo called, as he’d also received a stack of missed calls and text messages. Brigita brought him up to date with the situation.
Samo, along with the two beauties, as he now called them, met up with Matjaž and Brigita in front of Bar Sidro and formulated a search plan. Samo and the beauties were to go around the bars in which he and Lovro had disgraced themselves over the past few days, while Matjaž and Brigita would try to track down Sonja. They would call one another if they found either party. Just like Brigita, Samo and the girls did not appear to be too concerned at all; what’s more, Zala was hiccupping, too. And Samo and Špela already seemed entirely at ease in each other’s company.
‘What the hell is wrong with you all? We need action, not flirtation!’ said Matjaž. The others laughed, and then immediately assured him that they were entirely on board. The search therefore began. The trio went in their direction, the other two in theirs.
‘Why did they decide to get married on Hvar?’ Matjaž asked Brigita, now concerned for the future bride and groom. He’d never have expected that such a couple could mean anything to him.
‘How should I know, hic?’
‘Just try, will you!’
‘Now is not the time for questions of romance, now is the time for action, hic,’ Brigita said decisively.
‘And that’s why I’m asking. What sort of stuff like that is there on Hvar?’
‘I don’t get you, hic,’ Brigita said, taking hold of his hand. Matjaž gently stroked hers.
‘Why is the wedding on Hvar?’
‘Their first romantic break together was on Hvar.’
‘Aha.’
‘And then many times after that, hic, whenever they had the chance.’
‘Do you maybe know where they liked to hang out, where they had their best times together?’
‘Yes, where he proposed to her.’
‘Where?’
‘On the Pakleni Islands, in some place called Paganini or something like that. Where the wedding’s going to be tomorrow,’ she replied.
‘But they can’t be there, because as far as we know they haven’t taken the boats,’ Matjaž said, being methodical.
‘We don’t know that.’
‘Would either of them go there if they were angry?’
‘Lovro might, not Sonja. But I doubt it. He wouldn’t go there now, hic, now he’s angry at her. He’d go there when he loves her.’
‘Fine, do you know anything else? Anything at all?’ he asked, trying to rally her.
‘Hic, let me think … hic, I think that last time they pointed out where they went dancing and had a lovely time …’
‘Where?’ Matjaž leaped on this information.
She crumpled her forehead and thought long and hard. ‘I can’t remember, hic …’ She looked at the floor.
Meanwhile they’d arrived at the marketplace. Matjaž started to shake Brigita. ‘Listen! I’m being serious now. You have to find your sister – now think, where is it? Where would we find her at this time?’
Brigita seemed to be sobering up a bit to think, when from the darkness of the empty market stalls a voice sounded, ‘Right here.’
‘Sonja!’ cried Brigita, running to hug her.
‘I thought he’d come here,’ said Sonja, visibly under the influence. ‘This is the place where we’ve fallen out the most, over chard, potatoes and tomatoes, obviously. And then we’d make up again right here, on this very spot. But this time he’s not coming, this time I’ve gone too far.’ She wept and tipped back her whisky.
Jela Krecic Page 30