CHASING LIFE

by Steve Jovanoski

  ‘What exactly does it mean?’ Dave asked, hoping Erin’s tattoo was deeper than just a caption for a kid’s poster.

  ‘You want a history lesson?’

  ‘No, I just …’ Dave stammered, hoping he hadn’t offended the old man.

  ‘Ah, I’m joking,’ the man said, smiling. ‘Those words were written on a tomb somewhere in old Judea, but don’t ask me exactly when. A wealthy merchant was said to have been laid to rest in it.’

  ‘Oh, really? What’s the significance … ?’

  ‘If you let me finish, I’ll tell you,’ the man said with gruff good humour. ‘The merchant spent his entire life in search of things that he expected would make him happy and fulfilled, whether they were people or material possessions, but he was never able to satisfy his desires and enjoy his achievements. He died with his whole family around him. Yet, just before he took his last breath, he told them that he was the unhappiest man alive and that they had disappointed him. At his request, the family buried his treasures with him. Those two words were the only inscription they carved on his tomb, which robbers eventually pillaged.’

  ‘It sounds as though they had the same problems back then,’ responded Dave, thinking about Erin’s tattoo. ‘We’re chasing life today, and it always seems out of reach. Someone or something gets in our way.’ Dave thought of Erin’s beautiful face, out of his reach now.

  ‘Is that what you think it means?’ The man gave him a questioning look, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Well, yes. Isn’t that it? We’re all looking for a better life and greater happiness. It’s a constant search, whether it involves people or material possessions.’

  ‘My young friend,’ the man chuckled, ‘that’s what is wrong with the world. People don’t realise it until they either reach my age or something happens to them.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t …’ Dave said, confused.

  ‘Of course you don’t, you need it to be explained to you, and that’s the problem. The words were written on the merchant’s tomb as a mark of irony, but they have been misinterpreted ever since. They are a warning. The man never knew how lucky he was to have such a family. That was his wealth. He died a broken man because he chased life instead of living it, and he lost his material treasures anyway. The phrase has the same meaning as that picture of a dog chasing a car: he can never catch it. Yes, he thinks he has a purpose, to catch the car. But even if he does, he won’t be happy. He won’t know what to do with it, and he’ll wait for another car to come by and chase that.’

  Dave realised that the other customers in the bakery had been listening curiously to their conversation. Reflecting on what the man had said, Dave nodded without knowing exactly why he was confused. The young girl behind the counter handed the old man two freshly baked loaves of Vienna bread. He politely thanked her in both French and Hebrew.

  ‘My grandchildren will enjoy this,’ he said to Dave, sniffing the bread. ‘You should try it.’ The old man gave him a goodbye tap on the shoulder. ‘Enjoy life and stop chasing it.’ With those words, the man disappeared out the door and into the crowd.

  Dave tried to speak but didn’t know how to say what he was feeling. ‘Thanks. Bye,’ were the only words he managed.

  Chapter 17

  Dave wandered for hours through Paris, getting lost among the streets and in his thoughts. The lustre of excitement and adventure had faded for him the moment he left the bakery, replaced only by a sense of bewilderment.

  ‘Chasing life’. The words whirled in his mind. Was that what he was doing? Was he a dog chasing after a car? Was he pursuing an impossible desire? He wished he could recall a happy memory to lift his spirit, but instead, he thought of the night he last held Julia. Dave’s whole life changed that night. The invisible fog of depression was settling down on him again.

  This was her fantasy destination, France. Julia would say, ‘One day, when we get to Paris, Dave, I want to see everything. I want to see a painting and cry, I want to drink the best wine, I want to walk along the Seine at night and roam the streets until daybreak.’ He’d never given it much thought. Julia always had adventurous ideas, and it was just another one to add to the list. Those words were once taken lightly, but now they meant so much—and being there without her didn’t feel right. ‘How can I do the things we planned on doing on my own?’ he whispered. He rubbed his stinging eyes and swallowed.

  Dave looked at his watch and took his phone out. It’s okay, it’s not late, he told himself. The phone beeped a few times before he heard a muffled voice.

  ‘H’llo?’

  ‘Hey, Amy. How are you?’

  ‘Dave? Hey. What’s new?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  ‘How’s the trip going?’ Amy sounded groggy. He must have woken her.

  ‘It’s a little … well …’ he was struggling to find his voice. ‘It’s funny you know?’ Dave’s eyes went watery and his throat closed up.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Uh. I’m having a little trouble. Nothing really. I just needed to talk to someone. Sorry, I didn’t realise I’d wake you. Forget about it. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’ It was going all wrong. Instead of some light conversation with Amy, he was bungling the call.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Amy’s voice was clearer now. He could tell that he’d alarmed her, and he felt foolish. ‘Dave. Talk to me, Dave. What’s going on?’

  He paused for what felt like a long time. Finally, he said, ‘I can’t stop thinking about her. Here I am on the trip of a lifetime, and I can’t enjoy myself for more than a day.’ He pretended to laugh. ‘I’m such an idiot. I’ve gotta go. Sorry I woke you. I shouldn’t have called.’

  ‘Wait! Talk to me, Dave,’ Amy pleaded. ‘Come on. Say what’s on your mind. Talk to me.’

  ‘I hate this,’ he burst out. ‘I hate this merry-go-round of loneliness and this sense of worthlessness that gets me every time. I get in these fucked-up moods more and more. Back home I had a monotonous life, but at least I wasn’t like this. It’s as if my mind has exploded since I left Melbourne. I just can’t seem to just be here and enjoy myself.’ His heart was racing and he was breathing rapidly.

  ‘You had to deal with it eventually, you know,’ Amy’s voice came across the line matter-of-factly. ‘It’s all coming out now and you can’t just shut yourself out. It’s just thoughts and memories, Dave. They’re not real. How you interpret them makes a difference. You need to learn to deal with your emotions.’

  ‘I know,’ Dave sighted, pulling himself together, ‘and I’m fine. I’ve exaggerated. Just forget about it.’ Dave regretted calling her. He felt like a nuisance now and just wanted to end the conversation.

  ‘I know you’re far away, but that shouldn’t matter. You can talk to me anytime. It’s all right to feel what you’re feeling. But you have to learn to let it go. You have to let her go, Dave.’ Amy’s voice had softened. He could detect her concern.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ he said, but her words had hardly registered.

  ‘Promise me, okay?’

  ‘I do promise. Don’t worry. Bye.’ He hung up abruptly, resolving never to do that again.

  Dave trudged on until his feet ached. Police sirens sped by and momentarily took his attention. As if snapping out of a daydream, he started noticing people around him again. His feet found their way back to the Seine and followed it down to Notre Dame. Sidewalk vendors were hawking everything from prints of priceless paintings to nineteenth-century postcards of nudes. The sun was setting and the cold wind nipped his exposed skin. It felt like hours must have gone by since he’d lost himself in thought. The footbridge on which he was walking to get to the Latin Quarter had wire fencing on each side, and he noticed padlocks hanging off it. Hundreds of them were attached to the protective barricade, in all shapes and sizes. Some looked very old and others brand-new.

  Dave took his map out and found the name of the bridge—Pont des Arts. The description said that partners engraved their initials on padlocks and locked them on
this spot to commemorate their love for each other under the watchful gaze of Notre Dame Cathedral. He bent down to examine one engraving: ‘Love Never Ends’. Others bore initials with a little heart between them. He found one with ‘J’ and ‘D’ engraved on it and wondered who they were. How long ago did they come here? Were they still in love?

  He ran his fingers across the surface of the little metal objects, feeling the grooves of the engravings. He stood up to gaze at the horizon as the last moments of sunlight fell and disappeared behind Notre Dame. His mind calmed and he continued walking home via the university district. Perhaps, he thought, Erin might appear out of nowhere from some lecture room. The idea put a smile on his face.

  Back in the flat he took a long shower, feeling every droplet soothe his skin and wash away the day. But languishing in the massaging waters eventually had to end. After dinner, he dressed for a night out and opened a bottle of wine while watching Bloomberg’s presenters debate the latest stock-exchange results. The mind-numbing dialogue paralysed his brain as he stared at the television. He poured more red wine. Above the ceiling he could hear little feet running as kids giggled and their mother chased after them. Life went on around him. He was a stranger without a place in the world.

  The bottle of red wine seemed to stare at him, and he decided that it was enough—this night would be different. He left the apartment with renewed hope of encountering Erin at the Jazz Inn. At the club’s front doors a new schedule said tonight was an Evening of Soul. The same doorman as the previous night gave him a nod. Dave was tipsy, but he was allowed to enter without a problem.

  ‘Wait,’ the bouncer pointed to his mouth.

  ‘Oh, désolé,’ Dave apologised, taking a last drag from his cigarette before he threw it out.

  The establishment once again was full of patrons, although this time it was more subdued because of the mellow music. ‘Scotch and Coke,’ he asked the barman. He scoured the crowd for that familiar face, the one he could spot anywhere, but she wasn’t there.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said to the bartender. ‘Can you tell me if you’ve seen an Asian girl named Erin? I was told she comes here sometimes.’

  ‘No, sorry. I do not know her.’ The barman shrugged his shoulders, and Dave realised the silliness of his question in a metropolis like Paris, visited by many Asian tourists.

  ‘Is Vincant here tonight?’ Dave inquired, trying another tack.

  ‘Yes, I think he is here. One moment.’ The man snapped his fingers and yelled out to a busboy in French. He heard Vincant’s name being mentioned and the busboy disappeared somewhere. A minute later the busboy returned and reported that Vincant would be there in a minute.

  ‘Vin, caaant. Vin, caaant. Vin, caaant,’ he found himself chanting. The drink was getting to his head, an added fuel to the wine he’d already consumed. I’d better slow down, he thought. But he was in the mood for it tonight and so he ordered another drink.

  A short and slim man with North African features came out from the back. The barman spoke to him and pointed to Dave.

  ‘Hello. I am Vincant.’

  ‘Hi, I’m Dave.’ He was unprepared for Vincant’s crushing handshake.

  ‘How can I help you?’ Vincant wore a tailor-made black suit with a vest underneath and silver cufflinks. He was clean-cut and looked like a movie star who had just stepped off the red carpet. Even the way he stood at the bar was staged; every mannerism seemed performed with a purpose.

  ‘I was told to say hello by Sam. I recently arrived here from Hong Kong.’

  ‘Sam?’

  ‘Yes. He said to make sure that I pronounced your name correctly.’ Dave waited for a reaction and was afraid Vincant might have misunderstood. Then Vincant burst out in laughter.

  ‘It’s true I must say, tourists always get it wrong. But I don’t get upset. How is that Australian playboy? Has he married Carla yet?’

  ‘He hasn’t married, no.’

  ‘I told him he was crazy to have a girlfriend. I do okay, but that man is a magnet for women. Still, Carla is a sexy lady who knows how to party, no?’

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ Dave replied.

  ‘Is he still running The Base?’ Vincant inquired when he got interrupted momentarily by a young couple. They extended a hand, and he greeted each one politely. He gave them his full attention as if they were the most important customers in his club. He seemed like Sam in many ways.

  ‘Yes, he’s doing really well,’ Dave resumed when the couple had left.

  ‘I am sure he is. I begged him to come and work for me, but I knew he was ready for his own place. That man will make it big one day. He invited me to go there, but I don’t like Hong Kong’s weather. It’s too hot and humid, you know? I sweat like a pig. It’s not nice.’ Vincant curved his mouth in distaste and shook his head.

  ‘Yes, I know. It’s crazy during the monsoon season.’

  ‘I miss him. We had some wild parties there, and Sam can drink, I tell you.’ Vincant narrowed his eyes to make the point.

  ‘You’re right about that,’ Dave replied with a laugh.

  ‘Dresses like a Frenchman and drinks like an Australian, no?’ Vincant winked. They both laughed. Dave took a closer look at his companion. Vincant appeared to be the same age as Sam—late twenties, perhaps early thirties—with a square jaw, short spiky hair and well groomed goatee.

  ‘That’s bloody true,’ he said.

  ‘Okay, what are you having, Dave?’ he placed a hand on his shoulder and politely guided him toward the bar.

  ‘Another scotch and Coke would be great,’ Dave replied, taking his wallet out. He had a bundle of cash stuffed in there and was prepared to shout Vincant a drink.

  ‘Great. Bennie, two scotch and Cokes please,’ Vincant instructed the barman, looking down at the euros sticking out of Dave’s wallet.

  ‘I like this jazz club. It’s such a laid-back place,’ Dave commented.

  ‘Yes, it was me that made it into what it is,’ Vincant said. ‘Please, put your wallet away. You should take more care. The drinks are on me. You are my guest tonight.’

  ‘Thanks Vincant,’ Dave acknowledged, pocketing his wallet. He realised how ignorant he must have looked and appreciated the gesture that Vincant was looking out for him.

  ‘Are you here on holiday?’ Vincant resumed, taking a sip of his drink.

  ‘Yes. Sam told me you may be able to help with something.’ There was only one thing Dave was after, and he desperately needed to know.

  ‘Yes, of course. I will try my best.’

  ‘I’m looking for a girl named Erin. Do you happen to know her? Sam told me that she’s been here before.’ Dave was trying to ask casually, but his eagerness for an answer was eating him up.

  ‘Erin?’ Vincant’s eyes lit up.

  ‘Yes. She’s American and came here from Hong Kong to continue her university studies a few days ago. But she’s been here before.’ Dave focussed squarely on Vincant.

  ‘Ah, Erin.’ The bright and uplifted facial features of the Frenchman suddenly altered. He sighed and paused before speaking again, lost for a moment in his own thoughts. ‘Yes, I know her. But I haven’t seen her since she left for Hong Kong.’ It seemed as if he was reliving a moment that ended in a good but sad way.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I would know whether that beautiful girl had come here. She may be in Paris, but she hasn’t visited the Jazz Inn lately.’

  ‘Were you two …?’ Dave asked, feeling a sudden flash of jealousy that he tried hard to conceal.

  ‘No, but I did try. That girl is one classy and sexy woman. Have you met her?’

  ‘Yes, in Hong Kong.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ Vincant replied, ‘that you’ve come all this way for her?’ It seemed like a statement, not a question. His eyes opened wide in amazement.

  ‘Yes, well, sort of.’ Dave was embarrassed to admit it, but Vincant reacted with an understanding he wasn’t expecting.

  ‘I would too,’ Vincant
confessed. ‘But Erin is like a fish that you can’t catch. If you do not seize the opportunity when you have it, she will slip away.’ He gestured wildly with his hands, a trait Dave was discovering to be very European.

  They did cheers with their glasses and gulped the last drop before ordering another. Good thing I ate well before drinking, Dave thought, or I’d be pissed by now.

  ‘Where are you from, Vincant?’ he changed the subject so it wouldn’t seem as though he was just there to find Erin.

  ‘I am thoroughly Parisian in attitude but Tunisian by blood,’ Vincant replied, looking at his watch. He said something in French to the barman and took a last swig of his drink.

  ‘How do you like living here?’ Dave asked, hoping that he wasn’t about to be abandoned.

  ‘In Paris? I love it. I just don’t like politics. It doesn’t interest me, and there’s a lot of politics here. Money and women are my passion. I cannot get enough of either one,’ he laughed, his sparkling teeth enhancing a million-dollar smile.

  ‘I see that you have good taste in clothes too,’ Dave said. Vincant’s shoes were probably worth more than his entire wardrobe and plane ticket combined.

  ‘You’re in Paris, Dave. If you wear crap here, you are either a tourist or British.’ Vincant said with a grin.

  ‘Are the British that bad?’ Dave asked, chortling.

  ‘Not all, but we like to poke fun at them.’

  The conversation flowed freely, and Dave reminisced to Vincant about his experience in Hong Kong. Vincant enjoyed hearing about his friend Sam and wasn’t surprised to hear he was doing well. An hour flew by as the two men polished off another drink.

  ‘Have you somewhere to go?’ Dave asked, noticing that Vincant was checking his watch. ‘I hope that I’m not holding you up.’

  ‘I have a party to go to. You want to come?’ Vincant surveyed him from head to toe and made a little nod. Apparently Dave had passed the requirements needed to be seen with Vincant. ‘I wouldn’t ask you unless you were Sam’s friend. Like I said, you are my guest,’ Vincant said as he gave Dave a little slap on the shoulder.