“Are you kidding me? This is his villa?” Now I started to like it.
“He never lived here. His close friends did. But not long time ago, they did something which upset them and he is banned from the Villa. He built it for himself, but when they finished the other villa from Neptune, he liked it better. It’s the resort they don’t like, not the house. They hate the students. Future intellectuals. Maybe because they never got to finish school.”
“It’s so impressive. But what if they decide to come by…”
“They won’t. They never have so far. The security guys report to me. Things are changing, baby.” His tone changed. Sadness mixed with some anxiety. He continued conspiratorially: “They are trying desperately to stay on top of things, but things are really about to change…Soon.” He saw my confused look and changed the subject abruptly: “Anyway, they’re not here; they are in Africa. Maria and Relu are nice people. Their older son plays football. He’s not talented, but I put a good word to get him accepted into the national team. He’s sitting on the bench for now. I don’t think he’ll ever get to play more than 5 minutes in a game, but he gets the same benefits as the active players. He lives a nice life.”
“So, this is really Ceausescu’s place?” I asked again, excited.
“Oh yeah, you have to see the garden. He has exotic animals and birds and a butterfly garden. You’ve seen some of them,” he said proudly while opening the huge balcony door. Outside, in the garden, a huge blue-green fan was strutting proudly in front of us. It was the first time I had ever seen a live peacock.
We went back into the room, leaving the balcony door open – the weather was mild, and a cool breeze brought sea air into the villa. Alexandru was happy, enjoying my excitement. He pulled me toward him and start to pull up my dress. There was no denying him the sex that was part of our relationship – our arrangement. I gave in.
Afterward, we went downstairs, where Maria was setting up the lunch. It was a feast of color and flavors unique to Romania. The star was the famous Boeuf salad. The boiled veggie and chicken breast salad was covered in a thick layer of yellow mayonnaise. The cold salad was artistically decorated with homemade pickles and black and green olives. Hard boiled eggs, cut in halves, tuned upside down to cuddle with the rich mayonnaise. The eggs were covered with small black dots of peppercorns, creating small funny hedgehog shapes.
The long slices of red and green pickles were arranged to give the impression of a rich garden invaded by hedgehogs and other funny insects, and making the salad a culinary masterpiece. The cold entrees included feta cheese cubes placed snuggly in the middle of a big round porcelain plate, surrounded in circles by juicy red tomatoes, garden fresh cucumbers, salami and ham, cold chicken and turkey steaks. Small round plates were in tandem with big plates filled with black and red caviar, balanced delicately on top of deviled eggs.
Between the big flat plates, white porcelain cups filled with Greek salad, potatoes and eggplant salad. Goose liver canapés, smoked salmon roulade with horseradish cream cheese, beef tongue and heart slices with horseradish sauce, were trying to compete as well. As if that wasn’t enough excess, there were also deserts. On the other side of the table homemade cookies sat with sugar powdered jelly donuts amongst big funnel cake bows, home-made cocoa and walnut sponge cakes, croissants, crepes, fruits, and cheese.
The highlight of the deserts was the famous Sausage biscuits, a pastry resembling a salami, made of dried cookies bathed in rich creamy chocolate, along with Turkish Delight, walnuts and flavored with rum. Served cold, and cut in slices, it owes its name to its cylindrical shape that resembles an Italian salami. Romanians love food; presentation and showing off is as important as taste. When gathered for a meal, we will sit at the table and eat for hours, without needing a reason to celebrate. But nothing like this. This was a whole other level, and I’d never seen anything like it.”
“Maria, you are spoiling us. You know we go to Delta Restaurant for dinner.” Alexandru was complimenting her.
Maria blushed.
I was always hungry and luckily, I had no diet issues. Like almost everyone in our country.
After we ate, I wanted to see the garden and the hidden forest, while Alexandu had to make some important calls.
Later, we drove into the woods and onto a dark street, and after a five-minute drive, we reached Delta Restaurant. The parking lot was full, and cars were parked in all directions, blocking each other. When we entered, the place was packed with elegant people, oozing luxury. Romanians are not afraid to show off; there is no such thing as overdressed. The women used a lot of makeup and expensive clothes, and they wore a lot of jewelry, mostly gold. The men were no strangers to jewelry as well; big, thick bracelets and gold necklaces, expensive watches and fancy shoes.
A waiter recognized Alexandru and brought us the table.
The atmosphere at the table was noisy. I smell the perfume from the beautiful girls with sexy dresses. Ugly old guys breathing success. Sorin saw us and made space for two chairs.
The men were loud. The discussions — mostly about their good times — were colorful. It was one of the long dining tables, with gossip about everyone in general and no one in particular.
“Alexandru, I was just telling them the hunting story… the one with the bear, in Brasov." Sorin was red in the face and sweating visibly. He had finished his plate and sat back on his chair, performing his oral hygiene with a toothpick.
He finally got rid of the toothpick and said: “So, we go to bed. We were all wasted, more or less. The cabin was warm, the fire was still lit. My room was upstairs. I was together with Crina. You know Crina?” Some guys nodded, smirking. That meant they been with her as well. It wasn’t unusual for one girl to become someone else’s ‘girl’.
This time he was cleaning his dirt under his nails with a fork.
Can someone bring me a match? I may need to set his hair in fire.
“So, I was sleeping, and during the night, I woke up. My throat was dry. I looked around, and I didn’t see Crina. I go downstairs to the kitchen. Downstairs, it was the living room, and the bear was still lying at the floor. I try to make it to the kitchen, and I see someone lying next to the bear. It was Crina. She was crying, with the makeup messed up all over her face. I was like, What the fuck? I knew I treated her right. I didn’t do anything wrong. I bought her a nice present and gave her a good fuck. Who could wish for more?”
Men laughed out loud. The women faked forced laughter — it was one of the moments when we were all reminded we were not the wives; we were only the lovers. Under the table, Alexandru secretly squeezed my hand affectionately. That annoyed me: I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be the wife. “So, I try to kneel down to get closer to her, and she saw me. I asked her, ‘What’s wrong, baby? Why are you lying on the ground?’ And you know what she says to me?” Sorin took a long pause and demanded our attention.
“Whaaat?” we all chorused loudly.
“‘Whyyyy? Whyyy did you have to kill the bear? Don’t you see you destroy our environment?’”
Laughter, more or less fake.
“Can you imagine it?” Sorin continued with tears in his eyes, his voice reaching a higher frequency. “‘Destroy the environment!’ Like I give a shit about the environment.”
Three waiters approached us, each with two big trays in their hands.
“The carp brine is here, bravo.” We all clapped. The fish was big, and looked alive with its head and eyes still attached. If it wasn’t the appetizing smell, you would think you are looking at a naïve painting. Grilled lemons, tomatoes and fresh parsley were swimming along the surprised looking fish, in a juicy, still boiling sauce. After the fish lost its eyes, skin and flesh, the waiter served us the desert.
We left around two a.m., after they served espresso, cappuccino, and brandy.
The parking lot was now empty. The others had driven away from the restaurant, and no one seemed to care they were too drunk to drive. They knew they could get away
with it, because they had the police in their pockets. They were the guys from “upstairs.” They were the system.
When we arrived back at the Crystal Villa, it was empty. We went to our room. Luckily, Alexandru went to sleep without asking for sex.
CHAPTER 9
JONY BOY…
Waking up early in the morning should be forbidden and declared against human rights. I hated mornings.
Alexandru woke up pretty early. He knew my habits, and he tried not to disturb me. I heard him talking with Maria and later, on the phone, taking care of his business. After a while I was able to get another two hours of good sleep, alone in the bed. My new life’s routine had shaped into pleasant ways. I enjoyed the silk sheets while scanning the room with pleasure in my eyes. The smell of breakfast was frivolously tempting.
We ate together. I told him I want to go to the beach. He was not a beach person, and I knew it. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to explore the resort by myself and I needed time to think and to plan.
We decided to meet at six back at the Villa. Relu drove me down to the beach.
The beach was packed. I got lucky and found a nice spot in the shade.
I had Alin on my mind, making plans, trying to find a way to win more time with him. I didn’t want to give up my life and move with him, but I didn’t want to lose him either
The sun felt too hot, and I soon had enough. I took my stuff and went to Dana’s place. Luckily, she wasn’t there. I wasn’t in the mood for socializing. I ordered a Cico, the indigenous soda, and a Savarina, a soft air cake drowned in flavored rum syrup and whipped cream. I felt comfortable and begun to read. After a while, I felt someone approaching my table. Jony was staring at me. I couldn’t help to notice again his well trained and tanned body.
Damn, your timing sucks Mona! I had no makeup on. But I was in my bathing suit, and I hoped he would be distracted by my big boobs.
“Hey, Mona. What are you doing here alone?”
“I was at the beach… too hot,” I found myself smiling and pushing him a chair.
“Oh yeah, the sun is strong,” he admitted.
I put my book away, and I gave him a silly look. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He shrugged. ”I guess.”
“Please don’t tell Alin you saw me here.” I didn’t care about Alin in that moment; I just wanted to establish some connection with Jony.
Damn, Mona! You have a boyfriend now!
He distractedly agreed. He noticed my book.
“Did you read it?” I asked him.
“I haven’t read it yet, but I heard about it. It’s a good book! Is it true the author became obsessed with his book — afraid someone would steal it?”
“I think it all started with a joke. Some colleagues hid his manuscript, trying to play a prank. He got scared, and rumor had it he would carry his manuscript with him all time. But what is fascinating is the fact he didn’t use a typewriter. He wrote his books with a pen. His son said in an interview after he died, his pen literally refused to write. It didn’t work. He filled it with new ink, took it apart, put it back together — the pen wouldn’t work. It’s like only the writer knew how to use the pen. Or like the pen knew the writer was gone and it was meant only for the author to put the words on paper.”
“Can I borrow it when you’re done with it?” He asked.
“Of course,” I said happily. We had made a connection.
“So, how do you know Alin?” he asked neutrally.
I answered, surprised Alin hadn’t told him. “We met on the train. We spent five hours together. And here we are.”
“This is all it takes? Five hours?” Jony asked without hiding his sarcasm.
I touched his hand. He didn’t oppose it.
“Jony, it’s the quality that matters. Sometimes, one true hour can mean the world.” I slowly retracted my hand.
But he grabbed my hand this time and asked me, “What are you doing here, Mona?”
I acted surprised. “I am having a drink. Reading a good book.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t play stupid.”
I retracted my hand again, but he didn’t let it go. I liked it, but at the same time, I knew I was in trouble.
Be careful what you wish for, I thought. I wanted to get his attention, but now I wasn’t ready to face this situation. What was wrong with me? Was I on a secret mission to fuck every guy I met? I mean, how many guys can a girl handle at a time? I was trying to figure out what I would do with Alin, I didn’t know how to get rid of Alexandru, and now, I hit on Alin’s friend.
“You’re right Jony. I’m also asking myself what the fuck I’m doing. Sorry.”
He let my hand go, and I gathered my stuff. I wanted to run. I felt ashamed and stupid.
“Hey, I am sorry,” Jony said. “I can be a jerk sometimes. Don’t go. I promise I will behave.”
I sat down, and we talked. Like normal people. He told me he was not into the band anymore and it was time for him to move on. He said he felt too old for it; he’d a great time with the band, but music was not his passion anymore. He’d enough of “kissing everyone’s ass.”
He’d given up taking the band seriously. Up to now, he went with the flow. Easy life, nice girls, nice life. He made some connections; he met some people. In September, it might help him to start something new, a new business, and leave the band. Maybe together with Geta. It seemed September, the end of summer holidays, was the perfect time for a resolution for all my friends. They all had a dream, a plan to follow.
I didn’t.
I asked him if the group knew he wanted to leave.
“Yes, it’s not a big deal. They’ll replace me in five minutes. I’m not the lead singer, like Alin,” he said with envy.
He ordered a beer, white bread and Mititei, a variety of grilled garlic sausages. While he was eating with a great appetite, I read to him my favorite fragments from the book. I told him about my town and about my desire to move to Bucuresti, and I told him soon I would start to work at the radio station. I asked him about Ema. He knew her well. She lived mostly in Bucuresti and traveled across the country with her fashion shows — an independent successful woman, coming from a rich family.
“Once you get to know her, you will see she’s not so bad,” he told me, knowing I didn’t like her.
“If I get to know her,” I said, taking a sip from my Cico.
We both laughed.
His mood grew somber as he told me told me, “She’s not happy. She could have had the world at her feet, any man around her, and she picked the worst. She has no chance and no future with that guy.”
I didn’t know what to believe. His voice was sad, and he looked like he cared about her.
"Would you like to be at her feet? Just curious. Not that I care.”
Actually, you care, Mona. A lot! The little voice inside my head had to point out.
He explained, “No, we’re good friends. I’ve known her and her family for a long time. We…”
Annoyed, I interrupted him. “I know, you’ve known her since she was girl, she is like your sister, her parents are family to you, blah, blah, blah…”
I saw his disapproving look, and I knew it had been a mistake to overreact. Ema was sacred and taboo. She was his friend. I wasn’t.
When I decided it was time to leave, I hugged him and kissed him like we were best friends. I was pleased I got closer to him. Now I wasn’t a stranger to him anymore.
Relu was waiting to bring me back at the Crystal Villa. When we arrived, Alexandru was not there yet. I took a shower, put a nice dress, and went downstairs. Maria was in the kitchen with a young, good-looking man. He looked around twenty. He had short brown hair and was dressed in gym clothes. His name was Cristian. Her son, the soccer player.
We sat at the kitchen table for a while visiting as I waited for Alexandru. I realized that while he was attractive and my age, I felt nothing other than friendship toward him. Finally, a guy I’m not attracted to, I thought, relieved
– my summer was shaping up to be complicated enough. Cristian left and I sat by myself, my thoughts drifting between Jony and Alin while waiting for Alexandru to arrive.
*** 17 July 1989
I am writing those words, still thinking about Alin. He knows I have someone else, he asked me to get rid of him. How can I get rid of Alexandru? He was always there for me.
He may be twenty years older, but I never disliked him. He is ok for his age. Average figure, normal face. He could be a fat disgusting guy, but fortunately, he isn’t. He is funny and respectful. We are good friends; he knows me well. He has seen me without make up, and when I was sick. He takes care of my family, too. I liked being around him. He is successful. Part of the Ceausescu’s elite, he would be secretive about his work. He wore good clothes, and he was clean. He took me to visit places across the country, and we stayed at nice hotels, eating good food and seeing good concerts. He adored me. He liked having sex with me.
Sex has never been important to me. In a strange, twisted way I was always glad I was never in the mood for sex. I liked not to lose control and to me, being horny meant being weak. However, I knew sex was a useful weapon. Men had an inexplicable attraction to me. According to several lovers, my whole look “screamed sex.”
When they were not subjugated by my too-big breasts, it was the opulent, shiny curls that made them breathless and stare — the inexplicable temptation of running their hands through the cascade of my lavish, rolling hair. The addictive desire to pull my hair and possess me in a vicious way. Or the unsatisfied craving for my contagious laughter. I was used to hungry looks from men, and it mostly was my fault. I used to wear provocative clothes. I enjoyed captivating their attention and being part of their lives.
Flirting was like air to me because I wasn’t a happy person. Mostly, I was depressed, and I didn’t see any bright future for me. But as soon I would put makeup on and dress nicely, I was a different person. A girl ready to take risks and ready to have fun.
Just a Monumental Summer: Girl on the train Page 7