Getting out of the taxi, dragging all that heavy luggage - more than airlines permit nowadays and more than woman can carry – but with all the necessities, I am dragging it upstairs, following a little Russian girl into a flat of strangers. Dinner, anyone? I ask considering this male inhabitants’ fridge’s supplies. When I am leaving after making dinners every night, he, to my surprise, asks, in this formal manner that I know is not just for politeness anymore, who will cook dinner for him now.
I touch his shoulder, but I touch people.
I come over today and tomorrow again, because I need to connect with my family.
I invite him for the beach – wanna go with us?
He smiles with his eyes when I’m there – I know. He’s just too young to know that I know. He’s too young to understand that I understand what he is going through with a girlfriend miles away. I can’t help it – such amazing genetic material!
So I take a break, make him miss me, make him rethink his priorities, invent some old strategies, fight for me. He’s looked through whole econ department, I’m sure, just to see me. But, at the end, I am the one who realizes how much I want to talk to him today. And tomorrow, day after tomorrow…
No comments:
Post a Comment