Jela Krecic
Page 35
‘We don’t know how to,’ Brigita replied, looking at her grandma innocently.
‘Nonsense – that’s why you’ve got each other,’ the grandmother observed wisely.
As if she’d said something incredibly convincing, Matjaž took Brigita by the hand and they joined the others on the dance floor. When Stojan returned to the table he didn’t even notice his wife; he only signalled to his mother in a childlike way, pointing at the young pair and smiling like a lunatic, so much so that Anka had to tell him to calm down again.
The young couple didn’t exactly know their way around the dance floor, nor could they rival Leon and Zala – nor Špela and Samo, who had somehow found their feet. They were even less of a match for the newlyweds, and in terms of the execution of the steps they were almost, almost, a match for Drago and Dragica. But neither of them noticed. They were launching themselves around the dance floor and laughing at their lack of skill, clinging on to each other in between and affectionately poking fun at each other’s dancing slip-ups. And they would likely have remained on the dance floor until morning, had it not been for the arrival of the main course.
PICTURE 7
The food reunited all those present around one table again, certain ends of which were dominated by tension. Linda was looking over at Edvard and Eva furiously, and couldn’t stop herself uttering a cynical ‘Thanks for helping me to find our son!’ Granny Katarina was also pretending to be upset, having decided to ignore Samo. Unfortunately he didn’t notice her displeasure, not even when he asked her to swap seats with him so that he could sit next to Špela. But the main family bombshell was just around the corner, and threatened to ruin the excellent grilled fish and potatoes.
It started with an innocent question put to Matjaž by Stojan, which the majority of guests didn’t even hear. ‘Matjaž, ever since I met you, and we all know it’s not been very long, I’ve been trying to figure something out … It’s obvious that you’re a good guy, you’ve clearly found your place in society, earning a living from photography. You’re not ugly, I’d even say that girls find you attractive … Basically, what I can’t get my head around is how you’ve hooked up with a girl like our Brigita.’
‘Stojan!’ Anka shouted, horrified, while this hit Brigita so hard that Matjaž started to rub her back. Sonja and Lovro froze.
‘Well, what do you say to that?’ Stojan persisted, and neither Anka’s jabs in his ribs nor Sonja’s glaring could do anything to help that time.
‘It’s difficult to say anything to that, sir, other than that I’m honoured that she chose me,’ he said seriously, looking at him straight in the eyes and then calmly carrying on chewing.
‘Don’t play games with me. We all know what our little Brigita is like. She might somehow look as if she knows how to behave, but as a person she’s very unstable – without wishing to say hysterical – and what with all her education and her so-called progressive ideas, she hasn’t got anything to show for it. Or anybody, as it were. And if she’s not going to have children, as she has assured us many a time that she won’t, then we might as well say that her existence on this earth was for nothing!’
Those potent words astonished the entire table. The colour drained from Brigita and Sonja’s faces, and Anka stood up and left the table. Matjaž looked at Stojan coldly, put down his knife and fork and said, ‘Sir, I can’t begin to think what possesses a father to say such awful things about his own child … I can, however, guarantee you that we are not going to get on well if you speak that way about the woman whom I believe is not only the most beautiful but also one of the most intelligent, principled and quick-witted women I’ve ever met. If you were smart, you’d do well to learn a thing or two from her!’ He picked up his fork and continued eating.
Matjaž’s words were followed by a bustle around the table, and at one end even clapping could be heard – no doubt coming from Zofija. Sonja’s eyes filled with tears and Brigita’s could not be seen, as she’d already hidden her face behind her hands during her father’s outburst. Lovro commended Matjaž with a knowing look. A moment later, an avalanche of protests poured upon Stojan. Sonja chastised him, Granny Evridika scolded him, Lovro and Samo objected, even Drago and Dragica shook their heads more intensely than usual.
‘But what are you all starting on me for? I was testing him, to see if he’s the right one, if he’s one of us …’ Stojan defended himself, but his words were to no avail; the sound of indignation only increased even more.
Matjaž took advantage of the confusion, putting his napkin on the table and calmly, almost solemnly, saying, ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go for a walk with Brigita.’ He took his sweetheart by the hand and led her away. Sonja and Lovro leaped after them and started to check if they were OK.
Likewise Anka went over to them and apologized on behalf of the family, and then hugged her daughter. ‘I know it’s not easy to love your parents. But don’t despair!’ she smiled.
Gradually the tension at the wedding table died down and with time the controversy faded into oblivion. Some remembered the evening as a night full of passion; some remembered having lost a few hours led astray by the devilish island. Others had fond memories thanks to the good fish, or the excellent wedding cake, while others still cursed the dangerously drinkable red wine or the smooth brandy. Many would remember the wild dancing long into the night, some children would recall how they drank some three or so glasses of wine when no one was paying attention and then became rowdy and boisterous and – in one case – staggered into the wedding cake. For some the evening was the beginning of love, for others the end; for some it was the continuation of a beautiful friendship, for others the end of an acquaintance. Some remembered their patience, others forgot about their impatience. Some were sad that it was all over, others were happy to put it all behind them. Some marriages were consolidated that evening, others came undone, while some remained the same as they always were. The waiters didn’t see the group as anything special at all, other than the odd pretty girl – some of whom were far too debauched – and a few fathers who really couldn’t handle their champagne.
But none of that mattered to Matjaž and Brigita any more, as they stumbled along the shoreline of the beautiful coast. At first they walked in silence, holding hands. Every now and again Brigita looked at him searchingly, and eventually said, ‘Thank you for that. People so rarely stand up to my dad like that.’
‘I wouldn’t have had it any other way,’ Matjaž said, at ease.
‘Well, that’s why I wanted to say thank you.’
‘Honestly, there’s no need!’
They were still holding hands in silence when Brigita said something else. There was sadness in her voice. ‘And you really did play that role very well!’
‘What are you talking about?’ He looked at her inquisitively.
‘Well, it looked as if you really meant everything you said about me,’ she said, looking up dreamily at the stars.
‘That’s because I did, and don’t you dare pretend you don’t know that,’ he said firmly.
Her voice was even firmer. ‘Stop messing with me! We’ve known each other for too long, my friend!’
Matjaž instantly stood still. ‘That’s enough now! You can say that you don’t feel anything towards me, that you don’t like me and that you’ll never love me, but if all the things that I’ve done – if the way I’ve behaved, if all the effort I’ve made – suggests that I love you, no one is going to try and tell me that I don’t. Is that clear?’ He had now lost his temper.
‘Clear,’ whispered Brigita, slowly looking up at him as he placed a long and tender kiss on her lips.
THE FINAL PICTURE
When they awoke the next day in one of the nearby rooms that they’d booked for wedding guests, the sun was shining outside – or it was as far as they could tell from the scarce but powerful rays of sunlight pushing themselves through the Venetian blinds. They had barely slept, but were somehow full of energy. Brigita, ca
refully concealing her nakedness with a thin sheet, was looking at him with a particular charge in her eyes. Before he had completely come round, she stroked his curls and immediately he had to put his arms around her and kiss her. The calls and texts from Aleksander would have to wait until their recipient remembered that there was a world outside that room, beyond Brigita’s beautiful neck, beyond her silk-like skin, beyond her bashful smile and her eyelashes that lifted like veils to reveal the glow of her cheeks.
Communication with everyone that connected him to life before Hvar with Brigita was postponed until further notice. Now he had to let his hands loose over her shoulders, arms and hands, and to impress a stack of kisses upon her neck. She kissed him passionately, only for him to return an ardent kiss and an intense embrace. And so it was that they celebrated a new day with an unequivocal act of love, inadvertently conceived on Sonja and Lovro’s wedding night on the island of Hvar.
‘So, that’s that then,’ she said, as they sat drinking coffee and smoking on the charming terrace over a late breakfast – or an early lunch.
‘I suppose it is rather,’ Matjaž replied with a feigned indifference. They spent a while sitting in idle silence.
Eventually she said, ‘You do know that there’s a minor obstacle for you and me, right?’ A smile began to tease away at the corners of her mouth.
‘Really, what’s that?’ Matjaž enquired with ease, looking at her directly.
‘Well, you do know I’m a lesbian,’ Brigita replied in a serious tone, although the corners of her mouth were still rather lively.
‘I know, but I’m not overly concerned about that,’ he replied, unruffled.
‘Seriously?’ She looked at him defiantly.
‘Seriously.’ He looked back at her, barely managing to conceal his mischief with a neutral expression. ‘No, not what you’re thinking! I have gone through a year with all sorts of encounters with all kinds of women, and I have had to become the most humble slave to the fact that there are no rules for a good relationship. Every love has its own rules, which establish themselves through the fantasies or the various transgressions of every lover – both male and female, just so you don’t accuse me of chauvinism again!’ He fell silent for a second and then quietly added, ‘And if two people find their own rules, in the end they arrive at the same point as everyone else.’
Brigita beamed, but she was still not without her critical observational zeal. ‘Is that right. Where’s that, then?’
Tiny laughter lines gathered at the corners of his eyes. He threw his hands vehemently in the air and affirmed, ‘At the point where there’s just nothing else like it!’
OTHER TITLES IN
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Evald Flisar, Three Loves, One Death (translated by David Limon)
Dušan Šarotar, Panorama (translated by Rawley Grau)
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Originally published in Slovene as Ni druge by Beletrina Academic Press
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© Jela Krečič 2015
English translation © Olivia Hellewell 2016
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