Unfinished Business pt. 5

“I’m sorry Lila, I was afraid. I was just fucking afraid.” “I already know that Marius. Tell me something I don’t know.” 

“I really wish I could.”

Lila snorted and shook her head, a cloud of smoke circling her head from the cigarette. 

“It was a shitty thing to do. From both of you.”

“I know. Believe me, I feel just as terrible as Mira does.” 

“You should.” She took another drag and flicked the ash from the end. “I already know its over Marius. So don’t think you’re going to let me down easy.”

“I’ve never thought you a fool Lila, and I didn’t come to make excuses for my behavior. I just needed to face you when I said that I am truly sorry that I hurt you. I did love you, you know. And I still do care for you very much.”

“I wish you didn’t Marius. And I wish I didn’t feel the same.” 

He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. She looked down at the floor, then slowly into his eyes. 

“Take care Lila. I wish you all the very best. Wirklich.”  

She nodded once, solemnly, and he stood up, his eyes lingering on the divine creature sitting there at the bistro table, blonde hair spilling across her shoulder like fresh tears on a cheek. She afforded him the curtesy of the last image being one of her completely pulled together before he turned away and wandered out of the restaurant. After that, she drank her wine in silence, thinking of nothing. 

As she unlocked her bike, feeling the affects of the wine take root in her brain, her vision blurred as her conscious and sub-conscious cracked together, breaking forth in a violent storm of tears and sobs, wracking her so much that she nearly had to abandon her bike at the post where it was chained and take the walk of shame home; a one woman parade of melancholy. 

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Die Emotionen Von Menschen spiegeln die Laune der Natur wider. “Human emotion reflects that of nature.” Something Marius had said a long time ago, almost in another life. Looking out over the sun and surf of the Atlantic Ocean, I pondered the truth of such an expression and found it to be accurate. “Don’t tell me you keep a flat in London for the wonderful weather,” he had snorted, upon seeing the puzzlement expressed by my knitted brows after he had first said it. “Don’t you notice how dreary people’s moods are when the weather is rainy and bad?” he asked, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. In fact I did notice. But I was never actually in any one place long enough to take matters of climate and weather patterns to heart. I was still mulling over the truth of his words when he mentioned to me that he would not mind visiting England again, he would like to see my mother again. “You tick very well together,” she had said back then. That was the only phrase resembling a compliment that my mother had given me regarding any relationship I had had. Ever. 

My computer lay open on the table behind me, the black screen reflecting the palm leaves spread out like a canopy above. What would I write today? How would I be able to explain myself in written words? Would I slip back in time, using nostalgia to come to grips with reality? Or, would I write an anecdote about the prawns I had eaten for lunch and leave the rest to bask in the Spanish sun? A gentle wind blew a sweep of hair across my face; a sea breeze, the winds of change for a sailor. I squinted against the sun which had already began dipping itself into the glossy, glinting depths of the endless ocean. Somewhere behind me, I heard gentle piano music float through the heavy salty air. “Mira,” the voice softly said. “Will you come?” I turned from my perch and slid into the shadows of the interior. The music had grown stronger, now with strings and guitar to accompany the piano’s notes. It told a story, and I as I listened, I realized the story was somehow familiar. “This is wonderful,” I murmured, lost in the timing, the melody, each synchronized harmony. “I wrote it for you,” he said, as softly as if the words belonged to the composition. 

For the first time since I had arrived in Berlin, I wept. 

Mallorca, Mama

In the beginning of May, four years ago, I was five months pregnant and living in Germany in what Americans would likely consider a ‘college town’. At that time, two very surprising things happened: 1.One of my good friends from college came to visit 2. She agreed to go on a beach vacation with her noticeably pregnant friend. I mean, of course there is nothing wrong with traveling with a pregnant woman. The reason I was so shocked by her willingness and encouragement was that I couldn’t drink and couldn’t bask in the sun for hours on end. I had limits; and who wanted to negotiate with those when one was single, pretty, and looking to go on a holiday to Mallorca? (Sidenote about Mallorca: it is a Spanish island that has basically been comandeered by the Germans and the British for the most outrages, obnoxious, and raucous partying in Europe. It’s one step (maybe half) under Ibiza. You get me?) So, I was therefore baffled, yet highly flattered that she was willing to spend a long weekend with me doing none of what the island was famous for. 

Man, though, we had a good ole time nonetheless. We stayed at a great hotel on the opposite end of the island from the airport. That meant we got a comprehensive bus tour down part of the coastline and through plenty of little towns and a lot of desert in order to get from point A to point B. The hotel we stayed at was located on a bay (Cala Millor, I believe), and from our balcony, we had beautiful views of the gem that its the Mediterrean Sea. We paid for two meals a day as part of our hotel package (risky for a pregnant woman, I know), but we made due by patronizing the snack shop across the street for junk food and beach eats. Since it was May, we didn’t do a lot of swimming, but the temperatures were just right to sun bathe and drink poolside iced coffees; by far the best I had ever drunk. Mostly, it felt amazing to be relaxing and enjoying a few days away from the daily grind with a good girlfriend. I felt incredibly lucky to be able to sit in the sand with a friend who had come all the way over the Atlantic to visit. Pregnant or not, it was the experience of a lifetime. 

One afternoon, we did get an offer to join a chartered yacht party, which would have been an event that included unlimited drinks, dancing, swimming, etc. I offered to go; hey, I could take one for the team. After all, the guy that invited us did say they had soda and juice aboard. She declined nonetheless. “I can drink and do all that nonsense at home. I came here to relax and eat too much.” That was her response. Well, mission accomplished. Done and done. We had been doing plenty of both. 

One our second to last day, we decided to park it poolside. The water was frigid; and yet, after much self-persuasion, I jumped in. It was a shock to all my sense, but ended up being a comfortable swim after my whole body had gone numb. The little chap residing in my belly made sure I knew that he knew about the change in temp as well. As soon as I came out of the water, though, the dry heat had me feeling warm and pleasant in no time. 

So yea, had I been there under different circumstances, I would have had a very different trip. But I wouldn’t change a thing. It says a lot about a relationship when two people can just relax together and respect the others wishes or limitations. And that’s exactly what we did. Wee read magazines, got caught up on world news, both ate like we were eating for two, and had many laughs about anything and everything. 

It was a special trip; it was….Mallorca, Mama! 🙂