CHASING LIFE

by Steve Jovanoski

The clock said it was 7:30 in the evening—a perfect time for dinner. He typed a return message and re-checked it before sending: ‘How about dinner? Then I’ll give you a massage you’ll never forget.’ He added a smiley face at the end so it wouldn’t seem too ‘pervy’ and sent it off. Springing up from the couch, he started changing into going-out clothes, humming some top-forty song that he didn’t even like but that stuck in his mind for some reason.

  His mobile beeped again: ‘Sorry, babe. I’m too tired. Thank you, though, for last night. It was fantastic! I’m flat out at work for the whole week, but I’ll be in touch.’

  She’d given him the smiley face too, but it was no consolation. He was halfway into putting on a shirt, but stopped and slumped on the couch with his mouth drooping. He read the message a few times over. It was sweet being called ‘babe’ at 35, but he couldn’t understand why Erin wasn’t as excited to get together as he was. For some reason her message seemed like a backhanded compliment: ‘Thanks for a great time, but I’ll be in touch.’ Was he reading too much into it? Erin did have to work and study, whereas he had nothing to do. He tried to put himself in her shoes but found it difficult. If he were in her place, he would have made the effort. She was, after all, only a few streets away.

  She could have stayed the night and gone to work the next day. He should have mentioned that in the message—he immediately regretted that he hadn’t thought of that. Too late now; she’d made it clear what her decision was. She hadn’t even given him a specific day. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ Was that what someone says to a man she likes? To Dave it sounded like a brush-off. Was she letting him know nicely that he wasn’t on her priority list? He couldn’t stop dwelling on it now.

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’ he scoffed. He was definitely reading too much into Erin’s text message. Better stop this nonsense, he reflected, before it goes round and round in my head and gets out of control. Dave got back into his still-warm T-shirt and sweats while flicking mindlessly through the TV channels. He had no energy reserves nor the will to go out on his own. She deserved to be given time, and he needed to be patient.

  The following day, Dave resumed his exercise routine. He’d put his gear on and walked out to greet a sunny morning. He waved to the superintendent at the other end of the complex and took off.

  He did his usual run around the Jardin des Plantes, down the banks of the Seine and did a lap around the Notre Dame. He’d resisted on going down the streets of the Sorbonne or anywhere near where Erin might live. She’d said she would call, and he would wait. Invading her personal space without an invite wasn’t his intention, although nothing would give him more pleasure. He was thinking about her constantly. If it wasn’t Julia he was thinking of, it was Erin.

  A whole week went by with no word from Erin. Dave kept himself busy discovering new cafés, galleries and restaurants. The experience was only half fun—each time he found a delightful little restaurant, he wished she was there to share it with. Each time he’d found a new patisserie and tasted the desserts, he wished to watch her close her eyes as she bit into the delicious textures of food. He finally went back to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa.

  She hadn’t impressed him as much as he thought it would. The portrait was certainly amazing but somewhat small and ordinary, as far as a masterpiece was concerned. He put it down to the hype—it usually spoils one’s experience if it’s overdone. It was such a well-known piece of art, and yet it didn’t leave him in awe. It was disappointing. Or maybe it’s just me, he thought.

  What really blew Dave away was his visit to the Musée d’Orsay. The great works in that museum were equally as impressive and important as those in the Louvre. It held a collection of Monets, Picassos and Renoirs. They were all great, but it was something else that caught his eye. Dave was shocked when he came across a highly detailed painting by Gustave Courbet called The Origin of the World. It was simply a painting of a woman’s crotch.

  Dave blinked a few times at the realisation that this nicely framed painting that was so beautifully presented was so lurid. It was absurd and borderline voyeurism. It was like a hundred-year-old Candid Camera trick that someone had forgotten to pack away. He stared at it before he averted his eyes and looked around to see if anyone was watching. What a laugh he’d have if Erin was there. He suddenly realised something: he normally had Julia on his mind in such moments.

  He stood back and watched people’s reactions to the painting as they saw it for the first time. Young girls giggled and covered their mouths, older women laughed and made a joke, while men gawked, smiled and blushed, then walked away, in that order. A Japanese couple skimmed over it as if it didn’t exist at all. Their cultural sensitivity hadn’t allowed it to cause any reaction, and they’d walked away from it like professional actors. Good thing this painting is in France, or it wouldn’t see the light of day, he thought to himself.

  By the end of the week on Friday afternoon, Dave had had enough. He couldn’t handle not seeing her. Surely Erin wouldn’t object to getting together, even for a few minutes. No one could be that busy. He sent her a text message, a friendly and carefree one that he hoped wouldn’t betray his desperation: ‘How are you? How about getting together tonight? Promise not to keep you up late.’ He again added a smiley face at the end.

  He sat fiddling with his remote. The wait for a response was frustrating. Bugger it, he thought and dialled her number. His heart rate picked up, shoulders tensed and his palms became sweaty. It was a sensation Dave hadn’t experienced since his first job interview.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey, it’s me, Dave.’

  ‘Hey, babe. How are you?’ Her voice over the phone was even sweeter.

  ‘I’m great!’ Dave was conscious of sounding too enthusiastic and toned it down. ‘I sent you a message. Did you get it?’ he went straight to the point without thinking.

  ‘Yeah, I did. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to respond.’

  ‘That’s okay. Thought I’d call anyway. Are you free to get together today?’ he asked, bracing himself.

  ‘I’m working late again. So sorry,’ she said. Dave’s shoulders slumped, his chest heaved, and he felt like a deflated balloon.

  ‘I can come by your place later tonight, though, around 12:00 if you’re still awake. Is that too late?’

  ‘No! That’s fine. I wasn’t planning much anyway. Come over. I’ll have the drinks on ice.’

  ‘Cool. See you tonight.’

  ‘Great! I’ll send you my address. Bye-bye.’ He hung up, texted his address to her and gave the air a victory punch. Dave’s energy levels jumped in an instant, and he was floating again.

  He grabbed his jacket, put his shoes on and went out in search for snacks and a bottle shop. It was late in the afternoon, and he thought of the large supermarché where he’d seen the homeless previously. They’d made remarks toward him the last time he was there. It had made him feel uncomfortable, but today he didn’t mind having his boundaries pushed. He walked toward the spot.

  Sure enough, the same bunch hung around at the front, and the same little boy lay curled up and shaking on a bench. They ignored him this time. Dave walked in the shop and stocked up on alcohol for the night as well as food. He bought a bag of baguettes, cheese, soft drinks, salami, jam and cooking oil. When he walked outside, the group of about five adults stared at the bulging bags he was carrying. He could feel their eyes; their hunger was written all over their gaunt faces. A couple of them were fixated on the bags of alcohol, others on the bags of food.

  Dave walked straight toward the homeless people and stopped. They obviously were in desperate straits. Bundled in layer upon layer of T-shirts and jackets to keep themselves warm, they looked as gray and grim as the weather. He detected the smell of old clothes, which reminded him of his grandparents. A couple of trolleys were stuffed with cooking utensils, shoes and blankets; another trolley contained mattresses, newspapers and empty bottles.

  Dave looked at the boy that lay on the bench and met
his gaze. He hadn’t known any gypsies, but he thought the boy might be one, going by the Mediterranean features and dark complexion. But he had blue eyes, so deep Dave felt penetrated by them. The boy smiled, and Dave was taken by surprise. He smiled back without thinking. What kind of a future does he have? he wondered.

  The men confronted him, wondering what this stranger was up to. Dave was still looking at the little boy when he realised the others were closing in on him. An older man with drooping eyes, rivers of creases across his face and thick eyebrows took a protective stance. He stood in front of him, face-to-face. The sad expression of his features portrayed a picture of a man full of disappointments and heartache. Dave figured it was the boy’s father.

  He lifted the bag of food and handed it to him. The homeless man’s eyes widened. He took the bag, and Dave walked away without uttering a word or waiting for a reaction. He didn’t want to be praised or thanked. There was no need for conversation, nor did he want to explain why he’d done it. As he made it further down the road he turned and saw the boy standing. He was watching Dave as he was leaving. The boy’s father was distributing the food. A jolly chatter had ignited the group, there was the sound of plates being pulled out of the trolley. The boy waved at him. Dave waved back and went on walking back to his apartment with a smile on his face. The moment had filled his chest with warmth. The boy’s eyes stuck in his mind.

  Chapter 27

  Waiting for Erin was becoming a painful experience. After handing over his food supply to the homeless, he’d stopped by a fast-food restaurant and gotten something quick and easy. He filled himself a glass of wine and tried to relax. He thought about Julia and how far he’d come since that horrid day he last held her. Dave was able to think about the past now without the stabbing pain that usually wrenched his chest. Was it possible? He’d battled his past on a daily basis and, at times, he’d broken down into a quivering mess. He’d endured mundane routines, never showed emotion openly and never dreamt of possibilities beyond his job at the factory. Now he was in Paris and falling in love again.

  His uncle had once told him that most people changed gradually over the years, but some changed overnight after suffering a great trauma. Julia’s death had left him devastated. Another man had emerged since then, one who wanted answers about his existence and why it had all happened. He’d been like an orphaned infant, learning to deal with overwhelming emotions on his own.

  Not until his decision to travel had he really started to learn more about himself. The surges of anger, the sudden change of emotions, the need for physical pleasure; it was all so overwhelming. Back at home, there had always been a pill, a stiff drink or his friends to comfort him—an escape route. The external option was always there to distract him and pull him out of a mess—he never had to deal with things on his own. But those moments of depression would eventually return when he was alone. He’d learned while alone and travelling that he had to find a way of breaking the cycle on his own, he had to try harder and find a balance. The biggest lesson he’d learned so far was knowing this truth.

  A couple of wine glasses later, Dave started dozing off. The remote control slipped from his hand and clattered on the tiles. Startled, he cocked his head, yawed and stretched his arms. On checking the clock he saw that it was well past midnight. The click-clack of heels outside his door had died down. Each time someone approached, he waited for a knock, but the footsteps continued on past his apartment. Then it came. He jumped to his feet and opened the door.

  ‘Well, about time. Welcome to my chateau.’ Dave bowed like a butler and directed Erin inside. He smelled shampoo. Erin must have just come out of the shower—her hair was still wet and her skin glowed. She was wearing the same jeans as in Hong Kong, a T-shirt and a warm-looking jacket.

  ‘Thank you. It’s a cosy little place,’ she said, looking around.

  ‘Please make yourself comfortable,’ Dave replied, in parody of high-society sophisticates.

  ‘Thanks, I will.’ Erin took her jacket and runners off and sat cross-legged on the couch.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Yes. White wine, dear,’ she said, picking up the game.

  ‘A glass of wine for the madam.’ Dave poured her a glass and sat next to her. ‘So how was your week, darling?’

  ‘It sucked,’ she said, laughing and dropping the act. ‘I’m so tired. I’m trying to finish the damn dissertation, and this job is taking up most of my day. How was your week?’

  ‘Well, I think I’ve seen most of the galleries in Paris and God knows there’s a lot of them. I saw a painting of a woman’s crotch at the Musée d’Orsay. That was fun.’

  ‘I love that one, but it’s pretty tame. You should see what else is on display at the contemporary museums,’ Erin said, laughing.

  ‘I can imagine,’ Dave replied.

  ‘I’ll take you to one. Niko and Katerina can come with us for a laugh,’ she said.

  ‘Good idea. How are they anyway?’

  ‘The same as always. They fight like cats and dogs one minute and they’re all over each other the next.’ As she sipped her wine, their eyes met. Erin gave him a warm smile.

  ‘You’re a hard person to get hold of, you know.’ Dave was curious to find out what filled up her days so much. He was getting anxious to know if she was feeling the same way about him. He needed to know if Erin missed him like he missed her.

  ‘I’m so sorry about that. I’m really flat out at the moment, and I don’t know where my head is at. I’m totally exhausted,’ Erin rubbed her forehead. That was good enough for him. He didn’t need much, just a little reassurance. He had to admit he was being impatient.

  ‘I have to ask you Erin, it’s been playing on my mind. And I’m sorry if I’m being intrusive.’ Dave was about to ask something personal, and he had no idea which way it would go. He hesitated for a moment and watched her reaction.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘Vincant. He said you went to one of those parties. The one he took me to,’ Dave said. He was embarrassed for asking, but he felt he just had to know what happened there.

  Erin straightened up and her mood changed—she suddenly looked serious and defensive. ‘You want to know what happened there, don’t you? With Vincant.’

  ‘Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I mean, if you and Vincant had a thing, it’s none of my business …’

  ‘You’re right. It’s none of your business Dave,’ Erin interrupted. The tension in the air suddenly rose and his face reddened.

  ‘I, uh … you’re absolutely right! I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  Mumbling apologies, Dave tried to defuse what was looking like a disaster.

  Erin stared at him. Her lips suddenly curved, and she burst out laughing. Dave didn’t understand, but he felt a wave of relief.

  ‘You should have seen your face,’ she chortled. ‘Are you serious, Dave? Vincant? I’ll tell you what happened. Carla, Sam, Vincant and I went to one of those parties. Vincant always insisted, and so one night we agreed. It was the weirdest party I have ever been to. What a bizarre trip! Did you see what went on in the rooms upstairs? Oh. My. God!’ Erin held her hand over her mouth in disgust.

  ‘Yeah, it was nuts,’ Dave said, now sorry he had brought up the subject and hoping she wouldn’t ask what had happened to him there.

  ‘Vincant was hitting on me all night, and I kept knocking him back. That guy just doesn’t get it. You know what I said to him? I told him, “You’ll never understand why women prefer Sam over you.”’ she took a gulp of her wine, folded her arms and sighed in satisfaction.

  ‘You really said that? To his face?’ Dave was impressed. That comment would have devastated an egocentric like Vincant.

  ‘I did. He’d be a really nice guy if he wasn’t such a sleazebag.’ Erin smiled. She looked even sexier to him now.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He was too shit-faced and coked up to understand what I’d said. He just laugh
ed like an idiot and kept doing the same thing.’

  Dave reached over to her and gently drew her chin in line with his. He kissed her and tasted the wine on her lips, licking them and playing with her. The kissing was slow and continuous at first. Erin’s breathing quickened. Her chest rose, she arched her back with a moan, and they got right into it. She turned and jumped on his lap, wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands through his hair.

  Dave still held his glass. He reached for the floor to find a resting place for it without breaking the momentum. Erin’s hair covered his body, and he liked her scent. She started moving her hips back and forth, driving him crazy. He stood up and picked her up with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and the kissing went wild. He leaned her back against a wall, and she tilted her head up with a moan. Dave ran his hands over her breasts and underneath her clothes. Her skin was smooth, her body muscular and toned.

  ‘Let me turn the lights off,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ she whispered.

  He flicked the switch and unrolled the bed. When he turned around, Erin was disrobing. She looked like a flawless creature from a fantasy novel. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and covered her breasts. Dave had only his jeans on when Erin placed a hand on his chest and shoved him down on the bed. As she started kissing him on the neck and making her way down, the belt and jeans soon came off. She pulled at them like a wild animal.

  ‘Do you have?’

  ‘What? Yes!’ He got up and put on a condom. Erin lowered herself down on him. She moved her hips rhythmically, with her eyes closed and her head tilted up. She was in a world of her own, like the night she danced with him in Hong Kong. He held her by the hips while her motion quickened. Faster and faster she rose and fell on him. Dave’s eyes were fixated on her and followed her movements with amazement. Her moans grew louder until her breaths shortened, and she held it at the moment of climax. He too was climaxing and pushed on until they came at the same time.

  She slowed to a halt and lay down next to him. He hadn’t realised how much they were sweating. Condensation formed on the glass door again, and he was wet from the waist down.