I looked out the window at the distressingly lifeless landscape. Some trees were scattered along a dirty road that drew to within about twenty feet of the railroad track then paralleled it. Both led into a pathetic little village made up of smallish structures cobbled almost carelessly together then fell into further disrepair. Boards hung askew on several of the walls. More than a few window panes were cracked or broken out altogether. In the distance, I caught sight of where a sorrowful-looking factory stood, and saw the hint of movement; the workers who scurried about their business like so many ants foraging around their mound. Then very quickly ants and mound were blocked by the closer standing building.
What did you do Mona? An annoying little voice in my head brought me back to reality. Crying was stuck in my throat. What had I done? Why had I done it? I leaned back trying to hide my face. Alin leaned back and looked out the window. We were two complete strangers, just two passengers traveling together; a chance encounter with a gorgeous guy that turned into – something else. It was a kind of fantasy come true in its way. But, normally, things like this didn’t happen – or, did they?
He broke the silence this time. “What are you doing by the seaside?”
“I have a job interview,” I replied, trying to avoid looking at him. A wave of shame came over me.
Later, the voice inside my head taunted me again: Yep, you fucked up! Literally!
“I am sorry…I have to go!” I avoided his look and stood up, trying to gather my luggage.
“Hey, look at me,” he demanded while grabbing my hand. He touched my hair, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Are you ashamed?”
Stupid question. Of course I am! I just need to punch myself in the face. “No, of course not! I do this all the time,” I pushed his hands away.
Damn, stop smiling like that!
He came closer and drew me into a passionate hug that threatened to smother me. “Come here silly girl.” His strong chest felt familiar and cozy. I raised my head and gave him a dutiful look. His kiss came as I’d hoped. Warmth and safeness embraced me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it. We sat down and held hands while looking out the window.
No; there was nothing depressing in this ride. I was traveling with someone I’d known for ages. Someone who made me feel I mattered. Someone who made me feel safe.
After a while, he stood and started to pack his guitar into a black leather cover.
“Are you a rock star or something?” I decided it was time to find out.
“Why are you asking me? The guitar?” he said while taking his luggage from the rack.
“Yes. And all the black you wear. Poor color, you are officially abusing it.”
He grabbed his other bag, ignoring my words.
I fucked up again! He’s leaving. The thought of him walking out of that train and disappear, gave my insides an excruciating twist.
“We’re here. Let’s go,” he said while grabbing my bag.
CHAPTER 4
I WROTE YOU A SONG
The train station was empty. Actually, it was not even a proper station. It was more like a platform.
This is the famous Costinesti? It can’t be.
It looked like a village stop in the middle of nowhere. One closed ticket booth. No platforms, no trains. No benches. No waving of hands and handkerchiefs. Alin was in front of me, and I was trying to follow him. By following him, I mean trying to catch up with his huge steps compared with my little baby tiptoe steps behind him. Each step was laborious. I didn’t want to destroy my new high-heel shoes; the street was made of a combination of gravel and grit.
A car approached rapidly from the right, sweeping a long trail of dust in the air as little bits of the road pinged against its body. An occasional larger rock banged a little louder on the doors of the metal frame. It was a local car—an old, worn-out, Dacia. It was probably white under the film of dust that had collected on its surface. The scratches and small dings on the exterior suggested it had travelled down roads like this one on several occasions.
Alin stopped. I quickly adjusted my posture, as if running with high heels on a country road was one of my strengths. The car stopped just in front of us, and three guys came out, each hailing Alin enthusiastically. A rock band, definitely. Daring clothes, tattoos, jewelries. I was trying to figure out which group it was.
“Mona, these are my friends,” Alin said while embracing each of them with warmth and joy. “This is Teo, this is Vladi, and this is Jony. We are the Silent Delusion,” Alin declared with an ostentatious wave of his arm as he spoke the name of his group.
I knew them! I was ashamed I hadn’t figured it out earlier. I tried to justify myself: “I was thinking Alin must be in a group, but I don’t recall any Alin in the band.”
“Because he is not part of our band; he is our slave,” said Vladi, who softly punched Alin in the stomach. “You know we have a band member named Sunny.”
“Of course.”I exclaimed. “But, you don’t have any tattoos, Alin aka Sunny?” I said while each of them hugged me.
“He has!” Vladi told me. He was looking at my big breasts.
Vladi’s appearance was daring. Are you really a guy? He was too beautiful. His long, permed, dyed-blond hair almost covered his small, fresh-shaven face. He was moving his head intentionally, making the large curls and veil-like bangs impossible to remain unnoticed. He had dark sunglasses, too big for his feminine, smooth face.
He was slim, of average height, and he was in his late twenties. His arms were hairless and tattooed with black Chinese characters. His skinny figure was accentuated by his tight blue jeans and a tie-dyed, black-and-orange V-neck shirt. He wore white and orange athletic shoes, which looked big in contrast with his skinny legs and stature. At least he’s not wearing black, I thought. “My younger brother loves your music,” I said while admiring Vladi’s jewelry. His arms were covered with noisy chains and braids combined with lots of leather bracelets.
Jony took one bag, Teo seized two, and Alin tugged one between them.
Then I took a closer look at Jony.
Good looking, thirtyish, taller than average. He was wearing a casual shirt in a neutral gray color, and oddly—for a rock singer—his jeans had no “fashionably trendy” rips. They fit his athletic and toned body nicely. The parts of skin not covered by clothing brandished no tattoos whatsoever. Another oddity, I thought. No rock star would ever wear that haircut. His whiskey-on-the-rocks-colored hair was cut extremely short, which gave him a strong, masculine, but still well-maintained look. His eyes were brooding, dark brown and dominated his face. His gaze was almost predatory as he looked at me in frank appraisal.
“What about you? Do you like our music?” he asked. He felt intimidating. Maybe because he looked tall and well trained, like a bodyguard.
I said, “Honestly, I know, like, a couple of songs. The radio keeps playing only those two.” I was upset I wasn’t more familiar with their discography.
“That’s because we only have two songs,” Teo said, laughing. Teo looked flabby; I was afraid the two large bags would weigh him down. No wonder dandruff was leaving his scalp, finding refuge on his worn-out T-shirt. His long, greasy hair might have known better times. Now was extremely thin and sparse, almost exposing his scalp to the bright, sunny day. He was wearing baggy and itchy-looking clothes: knee-length, dirty cargo pants, the color of which used to be green but was now fading into brown.
Don’t look at his feet! Don’t do it! Damn, I knew it! He was wearing flip-flops. A black flannel hoodie, unusual for a sunny day, covered his ripped, rough, black T-shirt. His face was dominated by a long, skimpy beard, but what was not covered had obviously seen too much sun; if he were to shave at that moment, he’d look like he was wearing a sunburned mask.
“Guys, we need to give Mona a ride. She’s staying at the Forum.” Alin opened the car’s door for me.
“Fancy place. Are you rich?” Vladi asked.
“Or are you one of them?” Jony asked me in a conspiratoria
l tone. He was referring to the communist elite, Ceausescu’s closest people.
I ignored their questions. Teo took the seat in front. Alin was driving. I sat in the back between Jony and Vladi, hoping they wouldn’t notice the smell of sex on me. I continued to ignore the way Vladi kept sneaking an eyeful of my boobs.
We didn’t drive far from the ramshackle part of the town before coming upon a tiny village with nicer houses, took a right on a paved street, and drove for about three minutes. The whole landscape shifted dramatically. Several nice villas had been erected along this road, with cute, small apartment complexes nearby and a young crowd blaring their music loudly into the air. From the open car window,
I caught the refreshing smell of the sea. On the radio, I recognized the voice of George T., a famous personality: “This is Radio Costinesti. This is your student radio.” No other seaside resort achieved Costinesti’s fun potential, perfect for the party nature most youths have deep inside. The hours were longer, and the quality of the concerts was an attraction for the youth. Some of the activities the resort offered were the Film and Jazz Festival, the Rock Festival, the Students Festival, the Sculptures Camp, volleyball and soccer championships.
The Romanian people appreciate their summer holiday. They knew how to have fun and planned accordingly the whole year. Gathering together to have fun was the only way to ignore the system and leave the worries at home. Famous people across the country were seen in resorts like Costinesti, enjoying their vacations and getting to perform as well. The restaurants offered a range of live, authentic folk and dance music, with talented performing artists. The shortages were not so extreme, good food was in abundance, the heat was bearable, and the sea was clean and warm.
Alin slowed down and then stopped in front of a big, white beachfront villa. Teo, Vladi, and Jony all jumped out to leave. The guys waved good-bye to me, saying how it was “real nice” to meet Alin’s new “honey.”
“You can come in front and sit next to me,” Alin offered as he turned that damnable smile upon me once again.
This time, we drove along the beach. It was a narrow road, and we could see the hotel: at ten stories high, it was the single tallest building on the horizon. Different, daring architecture. A modern building, cut on an inclined, vertical, asymmetric angle, with spacious balconies facing the sea. The hotel looked new and clean. I felt happy, and I didn’t know why. It could have been the beach; it could have been the atmosphere - people milling about obviously having a carefree good time. Could have been the sex. Maybe it was all this at once.
“Can I come and see the room? I’m curious,” Alin said, while he escorted me to the elevator. Of course I agreed.
The hotel room was a suite with a sea view. I opened the door to the balcony and noisily inhaled the air, stretching my arms skyward; it was as if a thousand years of tension suddenly dissipated and went wafting into the air like so much smoke. Alin followed me to the balcony and wrapped his arms around me, clasping his hands in front of my waist. With his face buried in my hair, he murmured into my ear, “Do you have the feeling we’ve known each other for ages?”
“You feel like home, indeed,” I said, craning my neck around and up slightly to kiss him.
“And, yes, I have a tattoo, but something else.” Alin pointed his finger at his back.
He took off his T-shirt. The tattoo was a phrase— “Let It Go”—and the cursive letters looked like maritime rope. The last letter continued on to form an anchor. It was a pretty big tattoo, on the right shoulder, the anchor covering the biceps and triceps.
“I don’t like tattoos—they are so cliché—but this is original,” I exclaimed excitedly.
“I’m glad you like it, because you’ll get to see it often.” He kissed my hair.
The moment was perfect.
“Can I stay with you overnight?” he asked me with an exaggerated, sad-puppy look. We both laughed. Laughter is always good, like beer. You can’t say no to beer. How can you resist laughter?
“Ok,” I said, “but I need to take a shower. I feel so dirty.”
“I like you dirty,” he said and slapped me on my behind.
Of course you do.They all do. “And you need to let me sleep. I will kill you if you touch me during the night or if you try to steal the blanket. And if you have to wake me up early in the morning…don’t!” I demanded.
He was smiling and listening to my request. I tried to figure out the recipe of his seductive look. A touch of fun, a slight hint of arrogance, some flirting, a little bit of curiosity, a pinch of I-don’t-give-a-damn, and a lot of self-confidence. And those perfect white teeth, of course. He must have known he had a great smile. Some bitch must have told him, because the bastard paraded his smile all over the place.
“Ok, I am going to take a shower. Make yourself at home and use the time to call your girlfriend, or lover, or wife to let her know you are ok.”
Feeling the warm, clean water flowing over me was refreshing. Turning off the water, I pulled a towel from the bar on the wall and dried myself.
“Are you still alive?” I heard Alin yelling from the other room. “I’m bored.”
“Do something,” I yelled at him. Just a couple of minutes later, I saw his face reflected in the bathroom mirror.
Instinctively, I tried to cover myself, but he grabbed my towel and was admiring my naked body.
“I could do something…with you…right now,” he said and kissed me naughtily on my mouth. A trail of kisses followed from my neck down to my thigh. I closed my eyes again, enjoying the feel of his masculine energy. His lips moved down between my inner thighs. I felt excitement surge through me like I’d never known before. I was terrified by my desire for this man.
Some moments later, back in the living room and all dressed up, I asked straight up: “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I am in a rock band, always on the road. I am never home, and I have no girlfriend.”
I felt relieved but tried not to show it.
“I may have some groupies following me around, but nothing serious,” he added, just to tease me.
“Whatever, I don’t care anyway,” I said quickly, rolling my eyes and trying to sound as cool as possible; then, I burst into laughter, realizing how unconvincing I sounded. We were both laughing, and I knew I couldn’t hide the truth from him. We both jumped on the bed and kissed.
“You smell nice,” he told me, sniffing all across my body. “I need to go to the car and bring my stuff in here. Do you want to come and see the show? We start at nine.”
“I would love to. Am I invited?”
“We have a contract with the resort to perform at the Summer Theatre. We’re not the only band who performs. Black Vinyl will be there, and Streets on Fire, too. Oh, and the Crazy Nerds, the comic group…”
“So, it’s not just a rock concert?”
“No, this a resort for the students, and they need to be entertained. Daily, something has to be going on. A lot of bands perform here, accompanied by famous and wannabe vocal artists and comedians. This is the right place to be discovered and to make some money while you get to stay for free during the summer holidays.”
He was already out the door when the phone rang. I pulled the receiver to my ear. It was Alexandru, my lover. For just a second, I felt guilty.
“Hey, gorgeous, do you like it?” Alexandru asked.
“The room is amazing. Sea view and on the seventh floor. I love it.”
“Only the best for my girl.” I could sense his proud smile over the phone. “Ok, order room service or go and get something to eat. There is a cool disco called The Sky; it’s on the other side of the resort, so you will have to take a cab. Or you can go to the Summer Theatre; they have good concerts, music, and comedy. You don’t have to buy a ticket—tell the guys at the entrance I’m your friend. I will be there tomorrow, and I’ll take care of them.”
Just then, Alin came into the room with his things. Instinctively, I placed my forefinger on my lips, askin
g him not to make any noise; I knew at once I’d made a mistake. He left his bag and guitar on the floor and went to the balcony, closing the door behind him. An unexpected sadness took over me.
I turned around and said to Alexandru, “Ok, I will be here at five tomorrow.” I hung up the phone.
I went to the balcony. Alin was watching the sea.
“Sorry. It’s a friend, a good friend.”
“Do you fuck him?” His tone was icy. I slipped one hand across his broad shoulders and was disappointed when he did not react. He remained frozen in place, glaring across the vast distance of waves.
“Look, Alin, we just met,” I replied.
“We did…but the train. I thought it was real.”
He was right. And though I felt the same, Instead I said, “But I have my life, and you have yours…”
“No, I don’t!” he interrupted and looked squarely at me. “Mona, there are girls, yes, and we get crazy sometimes. I mean, not all of us. Vladi has a girlfriend; he is not allowed. Anyway, I don’t have any girlfriend, and I want you to be my girl.”
He took my face between his hands and kissed me. He seemed tall, and I felt powerless. It felt like everything was too early and too late at the same time. “Look at me,” he said. “Who are you, Mona?”
And here it was, the question I’d never asked myself. A question I avoided because I was afraid to find out the answer. I didn’t want to know who I was. I was nobody. I was almost twenty, and I’d failed the exam for university. I had no job. I had several lovers, most of them married and much older than me. I was living la vida loca and didn’t give a damn about anyone. Always running away from home. I deceived men. And I was a spoiled bitch.
“I don’t know what you mean, Alin. I am twenty, for God’s sake. I don’t get it.”
“I want you to be together with me. Be my girlfriend. You can stay with me for the whole summer. My band shares a huge villa; each person has his own room and bathroom. You said you are about to get a job here. We could be together the whole summer, enjoy the sun and the beach. We’ll have fun and make love.”
Just a Monumental Summer: Girl on the train Page 3