chapter 10

Glass jars with burning candles were hanging from fishing lines strung on poles around the park. The candle flames were shivering in the breeze, sending flickers of light over the spears of the overgrown grass surrounding the fountain. Nina strode towards it while steadily keeping her mind fixed on her desired destination. All around her the world was very silent and still except for the rhythmic trickling of the water in front of her. She reached up to the rocky enclosure of the fountain and jumped in, making a small unspectacular splash. She stood calf-deep inside the water, letting it seep up her trousers and flood her shoes. Tiny silver and orange fish were swimming hazily around her legs while elegant swirls of water oozed down the jagged, decorative rocks in the center of the circular pool.

On the side of the round enclosure just behind the central rocky construction, sat an old fisherman pushing a slimy worm onto a rusted hook hanging from a fishing rod that he was resting in-between his knees. Nina hadn’t noticed him at first and was startled to see his moth-infested, straw hat peering from behind the rocks. The huge hat was the most prominent thing about the fisherman and was covering half of his face that seemed deadly focused on the workings of his hands. In contrast, the man himself appeared to be totally disinterested in Nina who was starting to get cold and tired from standing amidst swimming fish and shallow water without anything happening.

“Sitting there like a statue will not help you in the least if you’re intending on going anyplace soon”, the man’s voice came out slowly and dryly with his head still semi-hid by his hat.

Nina was much too concerned with what knowledge he had to offer to let her attention waver from getting the desired information out of him, so she immediately asked him in her most polite tone of voice, “What do you propose that I do then?”

“You need to be covered with water”, he continued while trying to attach a second worm onto his fishhook, where the previous wiggly creature had formerly met its end. The man offered this insight as if it was the most obvious thing in the world without ever looking up at her.  That was all the information Nina needed though.

She lowered herself down, shivering at the coldness of the water and then with a deep inhale she submerged her body and her head completely. She opened her eyes and looked up at the reflected light of the candle in the jar hanging above from her. The view was hazy and fragmented and kept on swirling and pulling away with the movements of the water. The alarming thought that this was all a waste of time and that she would never be able to get back home, especially via fountain, crossed her mind as she was beginning to run out of air. She closed her eyes and pushed herself to stay underwater for just a little longer. Opening them wide again the light of the candle still appeared reflected across the water’s surface. Nina gave up and pulled her head out taking a frantic gulp of air to fill her lungs again.

But this was not a candle reflected on the water it was an electric street lamp. And the park was no longer there and neither were the orange and silver fish or the fisherman. This was the fountain located in one of the parks she was familiar with, a park in fact not too far from Dr. Stingworth’s building, at the elevator of which her adventure had begun that morning. 

“I’m home”, she whispered as she splashed around, getting herself up and out of the fountain. Passers by were looking at her curiously and some had stood still in order to fully admire her crazy behavior. Nina squeezed some of the water out of her clothes though she was a long way from getting dry anytime soon. She looked around her and sighed resignedly. “Home”, she said to herself once more.

With her shoes sloshing and splashing and her clothes dripping behind her as she walked out of the park and towards the street, Nina would present a rather queer and amusing image to anyone who had the fortune of being around that area at that warm, spring night. They would have seen a very wet young girl, dressed in a conductor’s tuxedo, with an interesting sparkle in her eyes strolling along the street looking like she had come to a conclusion.

 

chapter 9

Nina’s eyes were watering heavily from all the cigarette smoke that was coming her way from all directions of the poorly-ventilated, underground-basement space of the ‘White knuckle’. She was rephrasing from rubbing them since that made them sting with even stronger dedication. Jay had gone over to the bar to order some drinks for them, so she had currently been left alone the corner table to observe the elaborate characters that were populating the club through misty clouds of tears and smoke.

A tall, hefty lady teetering heavily on stiletto heels, wearing a long sequined dress and ostrich-feather headband approached Nina, where upon reaching her she rested her hands on her waist accusingly and asked her if she wanted anything to drink. The lady, who Nina realized was in fact a man, had a very heavy voice for which no attempts had been made to alter into sounding more effeminate and a black, painted-on beauty mark on the side of her lips. Nina explained that her friend had gone over to the bar to get drinks and that her kind services would not be required. The lady did not seem to mind at not having a customer to serve but was awfully interested in Nina’s attire which in her own words appeared to be “strange and unbecoming”. “You can only wear a conductor’s outfit if you are in fact a conductor. Everyone knows this!” she yelled out repulsed. “What world are you from?”

“Actually, now that you mention it, I am not from around here. In fact where I am from, this world shouldn’t even exist” Nina told her with an innocent smile.

“Not exist? How come all of us that live here think it exists, then? Maybe we’re all having a well orchestrated, mass hallucination. Is that what you’re suggesting?” the waitress yelled and stormed out. Nina was starting to enjoy herself immensely and thought that she indeed really was enjoying the service as the flyer suggested.

As she rested herself comfortably on her seat again she noticed that the chair next to her was being pulled backwards by an unassuming, thin young man dressed in stripy, flannel pajamas. “That’s the problem with empty adjacent seats. You never know who is going to sit next to you” he offered her apologetically as he sat himself down and rested his head against the wall. He looked like he was trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible.

“I really don’t mind you sitting next to me”, Nina told him with kindly.

The young man was taken aback at her kind remark at first but at Nina’s insistence on smiling warmly at him, relaxed somewhat and pulled his chair a little closer towards her. “Would you like to hear a story?” he asked. “It isn’t a very good one. But it is true.”

Nina agreed with obvious delight so he did just that. His story was short and sweet and was told with passion and great elocution. In it, the main characters went through a fair amount of trouble, tried to find a way out of their trouble while staying true to themselves and then in the end they actually achieved it. Upon reaching the happy ending though, of which Nina was more than happy to hear, the story-teller’s face turned apologetic and squeamish. When he finally ended his story, to Nina’s zesty clapping, he apologized for the pathetic way that the story had ended. “I know that I’m not supposed to give stories a happy ending and that it is childish and unrealistic, but I cannot help myself. It simply comes out like that no matter how hard I try. That’s why I’m not very successful at it, you see.”

“Nonsense!” Nina cried out. “I love happy endings and they are not unrealistic, no matter what other people might say. In fact, I hate watching movies or reading books in which while everything seems to be going well, goes wrong right before the end. It makes me feel cheated. The writer or the director both seem to be mocking me personally. You know those ending movie shots where the camera zooms out of the afflicted protagonist’s sinking features as he is staring directly at us, the audience, searching for hope? I hate those.”

Her explanation seemed to put the young story-teller in a fairly better mood than before though he apologetically stated that he was essentially unconvinced of the rationality of her convictions however grateful he was for finding someone who actually liked his stories. At that moment Jay returned with two glasses of red wine and seated himself on the vacant seat on the other side.

“I hope there will be some dancing soon”, she told him thoughtfully. “I’ve come a long way you know. So we have to dance. It’s the best way to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Celebrate the fact that I feel like celebrating. And here’s to hoping that I feel like that every day from now on”, she said raising her glass.

The band that would be providing them with the live music entertainment for the night was filing onto the stage and beginning to tune their instruments. Nina immediately recognized the conscientious ukulele tuner from Modigliani Road holding on to a bouzouki with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth again. The rest of the band was formed by a gypsy lady with a tambourine wearing a long skirt and a red carnation behind her ear, a very old man wearing a pinstripe suit and tuning an acoustic guitar and a chubby, adolescent boy behind a jumbled contraption made up of garbage cans and animal skins stretched over wooden cylinders of different sizes which vaguely resembled a drum kit. Nina was very curious as to what sound all these musicians together would actually be producing.

Her attention though was at that time drawn away from the stage and towards the unassuming story-teller sitting next to her who was being bullied and violently pushed around by a group of random people in the bar who had assembled around him. They were accusing him of being stupid and immature, making fun of his idiotic, happy-ending stories, his refusal to wear normal clothes and his insistence on going around in pajamas.

“Grow up!” an old, balding lady wearing a pink track-suit screamed at him as she pinched him on the shoulder. The young man sat devastated and defeated on his chair, slouched protectively with his head down. Nina felt such anger boiling inside of her as she had never felt before. She stood up from her chair and stood in front of the boy, pushing all the gathered people out of the way. “Leave him alone!” she thundered out as she pinched the pink track-suit lady on both shoulders for effect and continued. “You never grow up! You never stop growing. You always learn, you always change. You just fool yourself into believing that there is some kind of repose from change because that makes you feel safe. Fair enough! You are pussies and that is just fine by me. But you can’t go about pretending that’s normal and tear apart anyone who reminds you that it isn’t, anyone who is different than you.”

The people around her watched her with puzzled, angry expressions for a few seconds before the ostrich-feathers of the waitress’s headband strolled over to where the hubbub was clustered at which point, obviously being intimated by the waitress, the angry people dispersed and went about their business. The band started playing a song with a strange, repetitive beat and Jay pulled Nina by the hand onto the dance floor.

“You wanted to dance. So, lets dance” he said as he spun her around herself a few times. And dance they did, until Nina’s feet couldn’t hold her anymore and they had to sit down to rest. Nina gulped down the remainder of her drink and looked at Jay that was looking equally, happily tired. “Are there any fountains around here?” she asked him.

Jay shot her an amused look and told her that there was a park with a small water feature down the road. Nina leaned over and gave him a kiss at the crook of his neck, her favorite part to kiss and smell on a person. Jay smelled like a chocolate and wasabi macaroon.

“I have to go now” she told him, trying to sound stoic and determined.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go back. I have to see for myself.”

“See what?”

“I just need some closure. Will you wait for me?”

He gave her an affectionate smile and made to crack a joke at her remark. A shadow passed over his face and he turned serious, his smile fading slowly and sadly. He looked down at his shoes and then back up at her again. “Don’t be late, ok?” he said softly and returned her kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

                                                            

 

 

 

 

chapter 8

                                                                    8.

The sky was turning dark as the end of the afternoon approached. Nina was strolling down the main lane of the Botanical Gardens, not exactly sure of where it might be leading though remaining quite optimistic that it would be a place worth seeing.

The surrounding foliage and undergrowth around the path that Nina was following was very well-tended and pleasant-looking with lush trees of all sorts emerging from the ground amidst shrubs and flowers as well as various large rocks sprinkled around the stretch of the verdant territory serving as natural resting areas. Due to it being late afternoon, the Gardens were almost empty, with only Nina and a few other visitors still promenading about as well as a couple of teenagers sitting and reading under some large sycamore trees at the far end of her view. As far as the non-human guests were concerned, the visiting population of squirrels and birds was still high in numbers and undeterred by the fact that the Gardens would be soon closing for the evening.

Nina had reached a rectangular, domed glass and steel construction into which heavy plantation had been enclosed when she realized that she had in fact no idea as to which turn she had to take in order to get to the lake. There were presently, various arrows on the ground all pointing to different parts of the horizon though none of then stating where exactly they were leading. Nina decided to look for more decisive direction such as from the young man that was sitting on the grass at the side of the lane in front of a strange-looking plant, drawing careful sketches of it on his leather-bound notebook. The young man was taking great pains at making an exact, perfect, two-dimensional replica of the plant in front of him and seemed to be dead-focused on the job at hand. The remaining paper-space all around his drawings was taken-up with extensive notes, small outlines and scribbles.

Nina approached him quickly and stood over his note pad taking a closer look at his work. The man slowly lifted his eyes from his work to look at her, gave her a welcoming smile and then rose to his feet to give her a proper greeting with a warm, friendly handshake. “Do you like flowers?” he asked her while shaking her hand and looking at her in a meditative manner. He was tall, but not overbearing with long, rather feminine fingers and dark-brown hair. He also was slightly cross-eyed, his blue eyes slipping from symmetry and missing a beat whenever he glanced to the side or got blinded by the sun. Funnily enough though, as Nina later realized, they became dead-focused whenever he was concentrating or fixing his gaze onto something which was an event she started to anticipate with increasing infatuation. That’s what really got through her defenses about him. He appeared to be somewhat younger than her though she couldn’t be quite sure. He had the kind of spontaneous mannerisms and sincere eagerness that most people seem to lose on entering adulthood. On the other hand his manner of speech was gentle and inviting which to Nina rang as evidential of experience.

“Sure”, she told him, returning his friendly smile. “You probably like them more than I do, though”, she continued pointing at his notebook.

“It’s my job. I give the names to the new flowers. There’s a new species popping out every few days within the grounds and my job is to catalogue them and, most importantly, to name them. I have a talent for names and that’s how they gave me the job, you see. I’m Jay, by the way.”

“I’m Nina” she chirped. “And these new species of flowers? They only grow within the grounds of the botanical gardens?”

“As far as we know. They are very picky from what I understand; only growing in places where they will have a large audience”, he said with a playful grin, as if he was making fun of the exhibitionistic nature of the blossoms.

Nina giggled. Flowers preparing themselves in beautiful shapes and colors no one has ever seen before in order to appear before the appreciative audience of the Gardens show off and then die in a few days in order to give their place to something new.

“Poetic”, she said jovially. “I’d quite like to see one” she told Jay with a smile, the smile she categorized as her ‘fancy’ smile which she employed at times in need of persuasion or manipulative charm. “If that is possible”, she added even more sweetly.

“We are expecting a new flower to blossom tonight by one of the patches alongside the volcanic lake. It should be quite pretty if you want to come and see it. I was going there anyway, so I can take you with me if you want.”

“That sounds perfect” Nina replied with delight. Her afternoon seemed to be getting better and better.

As they started walking together along a new path behind the glass structure where Jay lead her towards, Nina asked him about the nature of his work and how it was possible for him to come up with new, well-suited names for all of the different flowers that flourished around the Gardens.

“It’s not that hard to think of new names. Think of the number of people that you have met. I haven’t been around for that long but even so, thinking back, I have been surrounded on various occasions by all sorts of people, far too many to account for in entirety. All of these people have usually been somewhat nice, sometimes cruel, some have been annoying, some a bit stupid, some smart, though most think they are a lot more intelligent than they actually are. Nevertheless, there is one thing they all had in common. They all had something interesting about them. No two people are ever the same. It’s similar with flowers. You just have to look for the characteristic however small it may be that sets them apart from the rest. And you name them after it.”

“Do you find your job fulfilling? Do you think that you actually make a difference?”

“We examine the behavior or movement of an object by examining its surroundings since it only moves in relation to something else. Hence by observing our surroundings or what we might call our reality, we alter it. We are involved in the world and make a difference simply by being in it. On top of that, I get to be present at the appearance of something new that the world has never seen before and I get to name it as well. So, yes, I find my job very rewarding”, he said and pulled out his notebook in order to show her some of his sketches and notes. The drawings showed peculiar flowers in an assortment of shapes and colors, at such diversity that she had never seen before and drawn with a steady, conscientious hand that revealed an attentive to detail and patient nature. Nina told Jay that she really liked his drawings and informed him of her own interest in art as well. She was feeling exceptionally comfortable and relaxed in Jay’s company, as if they had known each other for a long time and in his unforced manner of speech and easygoing demeanor around her, Jay gave her the impression of feeling the same.

After walking for some time, the scenery changed rapidly and where the view was covered by shrubs and trees, suddenly the horizon appeared above the black, rocky scrap of land that Nina had noticed from Barabbas Barley’s place high above the ground surrounded by the water of the lake, only now she was seeing it from a completely different perspective and in the erupting illumination of the sunset as well, which bathed it with such colors as to make it look like it had caught fire. The lawn was stretching all the way to the banks of the calm lake, where the black rock in its center was lazily releasing small puffs of smoke. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of sulfur and freshly-cut grass.

Jay pointed the way to a naked stretch of soil that had recently been disturbed and, by the smell of it, fertilized. In the center of the square patch, the thin stalk of a flower was suspending a bud, closed firmly into a tight, green ball. The stalk of the plant was light-green and boasted two prickly, round leaves that were sitting close together right under the flower-bud. Jay sat on the ground and focused his gaze on the lonely flower. Nina did the same, though not in such a forthcoming way as her new acquaintance due to her reluctance at soiling her new outfit. Nevertheless, sat on the ground she did, right next to an attentively flower-watching Jay who seemed to have eyes only for the plant in front of him. Without averting his eyes he suggested that Nina did the same. “They will only blossom if they feel welcome and admired. Try and look at it as if it’s the most beautiful thing in the world”, he recommended in a whisper. Nina followed his instructions and focused her interest in front of her while assuming a look of admiration and intense affection.

The stem of the flower shivered slightly and then the bud sluggishly rose a few millimeters from where it was hanging. Both leaves on the stalk stretched a bit to the side and then the petals of the flower popped away from each other, separated and languidly expanded to their full length, resting side by side to form a black disk around their azure center and faced the two of them directly. The petals looked silky-soft and very thin, almost transparent in the light. They were very long and spiky, swaying and buckling at the tips in the light breeze for a few seconds of silence and loving gazes from Jay and Nina, after which they quickly gave one last stretch and closed back to a bud again.

Nina sat where she was without saying anything, still fixed on the flower that was very still again, as if nothing had taken place in the last minute. Jay turned and asked her if she liked the display. Nina nodded her head in appreciation and thanked him for showing her.

“I’m glad you liked it”, he said softly, turning his body to face the volcanic lake. Nina mirrored his motions. Swarms of ducks were dancing over the lake. Nebulas of reverberating bird-gatherings clustered together with invisible strings forming dispersions of shadowy mass, like a dark liquid had been thrown into a giant glass of water and was being suspended over the horizon.

“I didn’t just like it. I loved it”, she attested in an excited voice.

“You should love plankton… Two out of every three breaths you take come from plankton. And due to environmental pollution we are currently losing about 1% of it every year.”

“What?” she asked him perplexed.

“Oh, nothing... I’m just making a stupid joke. It’s just that people use the world love so lightly. It makes me want to remark on the fact that maybe they should give more thought to what kinds of things they actually love or what they should pay more attention to.”

Nina smiled and stared at him appreciatively. “I think you’re right. We say that we love things or people a little too easily and at the same time we avoid actually loving others because we see it as too much work or commitment.”

Jay grinned in agreement. “Do you do the same? It sounds like you know what you’re talking about”, he continued a little awkwardly, his face assuming an apologetic expression from the intrusive question.

Nina pondered the question while following the small wisps of volcanic smoke that were dispersing in the purple, twilight sky. “I’m afraid to love, it’s true. It leaves you wide open. But it is preferable to the alternative”.

“Feeling nothing?”

“No. You feel. You can never stop feeling”

“What’s the alternative then?”

“It’s…ugly”, Nina said glumly. She always found it easier to express herself in aesthetic terms. Opinions could be fleeting and unreliable but beauty was a universal constant, more eloquent to her eyes and senses than anything her mind could develop.

“You see, I’ve been there. I kind of lost it for a little while”, she continued. “I lost my essence. And you know what the symptoms are? You start caring about what people that do not matter think about you, while being unable to truly care about the people that do matter.”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” he asked her in a concerned tone.

“I guess I thought I didn’t quite deserve to be loved. I always thought I had to be amazing in order to be dear to someone. Like love is something you have to work your way up to. But that’s not the way it goes. You are only ever loved for who you are; no exertion necessary. All you need to do is love back. I had this imaginary committee in my head coming together in order to deem me worthy of being loved and in what quantities based on my merits. But love is not an award and it is not a public event.”

“No, it isn’t. You don’t even have to be that great in order to be loved. I mean we all deserve to be loved and we all have someone out there who is perfect for us, as we are for them.”

“Do you really believe that?” Nina asked him looking skeptical. She was never quite convinced of the truth of such romanticism.

“What do you think is the fascination behind ‘Wuthering heights’ or ‘Romeo and Juliet’? Juliet was not a Nobel Prize winner or a philosophy professor, Romeo is not exceptional in any way. Katherine and Heathcliff were both deeply flawed characters even repulsive at times. But they were all perfect for each other. That’s what we are all essentially looking for; someone who we cannot live without no matter how flawed or non-perfect they may appear to be to others. They would be perfect for us. And we want them to feel alike for us. I understand that this is some kind of love-utopia that we deem unattainable, the product of fiction. Isn’t the fact that we would all jump at the opportunity of being in such a relationship proof enough that it may be possible? Let’s be honest who wouldn’t want that kind of romance?” he asked her throwing his hands in front of him.

“I know I, providing such a thing exists, would give one of my kidneys in exchange for finding my other half”, she said in a low voice. “Somehow, it hasn’t been so easy for me though. Maybe I shouldn’t want or need to find love. I think it might make things easier.”

Jay appeared to be very perplexed by her rationalization and said nothing while waiting for her to explain further.

“We tend to offer the corresponding things to the people who appear not to need them. The moment you appear as if you are in need of something from another person you can kiss it goodbye. Nobody teaches you this”, she told him with a sigh. Nina remembered working briefly as a sales assistant in an expensive cosmetics boutique the kind where all sorts of wealthy, desperate women would flock to in search of their lost youth, self-esteem and happiness. The job was unfulfilling in many ways but Nina consoled herself in thinking that for the time she had been working there, besides minimum wage, she was also earning invaluable experience in interpersonal relationships. For instance, it was part of the management’s policy to offer generous discounts and copious amounts of free samples only to the biggest spenders, the filthy rich customers, trying to ensure that they only spent their cash at their store and no one else’s. These women were so rich that they never even inquired on how much the pig’s-snout elbow-cream or bee’s knee’s eyebrow lotion they were acquiring would cost. And it would cost a lot! Every once in a while a fellow minimum wage earner would come in the store spending the equivalent of a month’s salary, doubtlessly put together after scrupulous saving, on a face cream. Nina was never allowed to give them a discount or any samples though even though they would obviously appreciate these facilities a lot more than their considerably wealthier counterparts. Where is the fairness in that? Nina would think. There isn’t any. But it makes good business sense. And business these days seems to encompass real life in general.

“When you need someone’s love and affection they will be very reluctant to give it to you” she continued. “They will even accuse you of it as if you are conspiring to harm them or rob them of their much needed supplies. Treat the same person with aloofness, doubt and evident contempt and they will lavish you with attention and ‘feeling’, which they were so intent on keeping to themselves in apparent dire personal need beforehand. The conclusion you cannot escape but coming to is that most people are tedious attention seekers. Disregard them and they will tirelessly wag their tale and lick your face for you to acknowledge them. Show them that they are special to you, show them that they have your attention and suddenly you hold no interest for them. You are a street corner they have already pissed on. New corners and car tires are awaiting them to leave their mark on and secure their territory. There is no reciprocation in most people’s relationships although that is probably the best part about them. Interpersonal relationships have become competitions. We are the drama queens that get our kicks from the little games we devise to control one another, our petty power-plays.”

“These people don’t sound very healthy to me. Fair enough, it is detrimental to need someone to tell you what to do or fix your problems for you. But closeness, friendship, love…they are needs as well and ones that you cannot fulfill alone. It doesn’t render you ‘needy’ to require these things. It renders you human”, Jay pronounced, turning to face Nina.

“And how about nobility and justice?” she said even more animated now that she had found somebody who understood her and was able to participate in a sane conversation. “We offer our help and affections to the people that do not especially need or want them and not out of desire to help them either. We are trying to manipulate them into offering whatever it is they have in abundance to us. Instead of reciprocation we use manipulation because we do not trust others to reciprocate kindness and we are not patient enough to wait for the long-term benefits of altruism. We want satisfaction, we want it now and we want to be sure to get it. Now, that’s needy!”

Jay laughed amusedly at her ironic remark and then looked at the grass under his shoes. “One way or the other I am not facing any such problems of emotional manipulation at the moment and not for some time now. Nobody seems to want to actually commit to me”, he said.

“Far too many people seem to want to commit to me in too brief a time and with very little consideration. You see, funnily enough, a lot of guys seem to find me attractive and it appears to be enough for them.” Jay feigned surprise at her statement with a comical grimace and Nina continued. “There’s that, and then there is also the fact that I am starving for affection so I give it out in large amounts in hopes of receiving it in return.”

“I see. And how is that approach working out for you?”

“It isn’t! It’s a complete fiasco. It turns out that forcing yourself to be with romantic partners that are not exactly right for you can create more problems than it does spontaneous displays of affection, not to mention love. Huh, love. It has come to sound like a silly thing, hasn’t it? Anyway, all this must probably sound silly to you in general.  I mean, all these things are probably straightforward, common sense to most people.”

“No, not to me they are not. In fact, I am certain that quite a lot of people are not with whomever is right for them but are with whomever comes with certain prerequisites that they have been disciplined to require. And that’s what to these people common sense stands for. Anyway, you should allow yourself to be with whomever you in fact want.”

Nina smirked in comical desperation at his remark. “Assuming that I know what I want... Maybe I am not old enough to know yet.”                                                                                                                                                    

“Age has nothing to do with it. Our wants are embedded in us from a very early age along with our personality and they never change. You are only ever old enough to know what you will settle for.”                                                                                                     

“So how come I don’t know what I want?”                                                                                 

“Well, as time goes by we tend to forget what we want and confuse it with what we are told to want. It happens to everyone, hence all the unhappy people. In a way it’s even easier to get what you desire than what you are told to, since you are probably better at what you like doing than what you are told to do. For example, nowadays fame and fortune are advertised as a guarantee at happiness, only I have no actual desire to be rich and famous. Despite that fact there is still a part of me that feels unfulfilled due to my not achieving these things that are constantly projected to me as the thing to want.”                                                                                                                   

“I have had a similar social upbringing so I understand that completely. I do have one question though. How do you separate the things you actually desire from the things that you are taught to covet and aspire towards?” she asked.                                                  

“The method I use to classify whether something is worth wanting or not, is by identifying how it makes me feel. If it comes naturally and falls into place into my life and I don’t have to change parts of who I am to facilitate it, then it is worth it.”

Nina didn’t say anything after his explanation and gazed at the view, resting her chin on her knees and sitting with her limbs huddled together forming a small, well-dressed ball on the ground. A few minutes passed with none of them saying anything. It was almost too dark to see the volcano anymore.

“I think that I know what I want”, Nina said slowly. “I want silence. Comfortable silence.”

 

 

 

 

chapter 7

The sky had turned the familiar, sickly, mid-afternoon color, the result of the sun being ambivalent between shining brightly and fading into a sunset. Nina was walking down Portmanteau Street, a chocolate mouse melting slightly around her fingers as she gazed onto the road up ahead. Frank had maintained that Nina took one more mouse to eat on the way while he was seeing her off insisting that she visited him again whenever she felt like it and suggesting that she made her way up towards Modigliani Road. Nina had given him a big hug and promised to come back. She had given him her newly acquired book as a present as well saying that she did not need it any more, though she was now beginning to doubt the logic behind her action. After brief consideration and lament she settled into her previous carefree mood again. “What’s done, is done”, she murmured to herself coaxingly. “Just go with the flow.”

Modigliani Road was in an afternoon-siesta kind of mood. It had a small dirt-road with a thin pavement made out of terracotta tiles covered lightly with ochre dust from the street. The mid-afternoon light filtered through the thick clouds up above as well as the dirt from the road giving the street a sickly yellow color. The houses and shops overlooking the road had tiled roofs and slender balconies with gilded, iron bars. No one was sitting out onto the balconies at that time though. The wooden shutters on the balcony-window doors were all closed firmly.

All of the buildings along the expanse of the street were constructed to look exceptionally elongated and slim. Each of them was barely 2 meters wide and three or four stories tall, with each building standing side by side and painted in Indian red, burnt sienna or light yellow paint. Some of them were still under construction with heaps of broken and piled stones lying in front of the construction sites and in parts of the pavement, where tall pine trees were also sprouting from in between broken or removed terracotta tiles.

Flimsy shop constructions were sprinkled in-between the houses. Nina could make out a dingy café with dark, wooden surfaces and empty tables as well as a shop selling ready-made stretched canvases and rolls of primed canvas-linen. Next to the canvas shop was a tavern with tables covered with red and white checkered tablecloths that a waiter had been laying lazily and after that another store where Nina peered into in order to establish its exact utilization.

The undersized, dingy shop had a single-glass-pane window and a glass door opened widely to reveal the establishment’s shabby interior. The walls were painted in the color of pale green earth and the wooden planks covering the floor were devastated and missing altogether in some places. Next to a lopsided, wooden counter a middle-aged man was sitting on a wicker chair tuning a ukulele. There was no sign outside the store but as the only items hanging on display all over the walls were various handmade, string instruments Nina easily assumed as to what the shop was selling. She could instantly identify the acoustic and classical guitars and the acoustic base and cello, though it took her a little longer to classify the bouzouki and sitar resting on the wall next to the counter. The man on the wicker-chair kept on tuning the petite musical instrument while the cigarette he had hanging from his mouth rushed firmly towards burning the tip of his lips. Strangely enough he seemed adamant in his attempt to render the ukulele in tune before making any kind of gesture towards removing the spent cigarette. The instrument was beginning to give out melodic sounds in the hands of the man but as he was preparing to start playing the melody of a well-known lullaby that Nina was particularly fond of by practicing the first notes in repetition, a huge ruckus came drifting up and down the previously silent street.

Two teams of closely clustered protestors were proceeding to meet in the central part of the road, with one group coming from its northern end and the other from the southern corner leading to Albino Avenue. The protestors appeared to be in opposing groups and had prominent, hand-painted signs that Nina assumed stated their proposals or issues of concern and cause of the uproar, though she couldn’t be quite sure as to what all the randomly assembled people were protesting about because the sound of their shouting and chanting was muffled and the signs too far away for her to read. As both teams approached each other she could finally make out the sign held by two old ladies in the front of the northern procession. It said ‘BAN MEATBALLS’ in large, red letters and it was the exact same citation that the group of thirty-odd, meatball-opposing citizens was singing out angrily. The antagonistic team approaching from the south was yelling out ‘MEATBALLS ARE BEST – DOWN WITH KETCHUP’ and holding signs stating that very fact proudly.

As scary and unsettling as those kinds of manifestations of blind hate and enmity can be, all that Nina could think about was the nonsensicality of the situation. What can exist in condiments and meat preparations that can ignite such rage and fanaticism in people? Now that I think about it though, looking back, probably all occasions for fanaticism are as rationally based as the one exhibited right now. It seems like most branches of human scholarship and invention have become teams or groups we belong to behind which we hide in order to feel safe, she thought we bitterness.

In order to escape the escalating noise of the meeting of the two groups outside the checkered tablecloth tavern, Nina raced up the pavement in search for shelter. Her sprint though was hindered by the appearance of a little girl right in front of her, dressed in a light-blue dress which was the same color as her eyes, with a red ribbon tied on her head and brown, leather lace-up boots on her feet. Her cheeks were flushed and her nose was sunburned and freckled. The girl looked up at Nina solemnly and gave her a piece of paper with ceremonious attention. Nina accepted the colorful flyer curiously and took a look at its printed pictures and letters that turned out to be advertising a party taking place at a nearby club later on that night. The name of the club was ‘The White Knuckle Watering Hole’ and it boasted a ‘live band’ and ‘enjoyable service’.

“The ‘White Knuckle’ has the best live music in town”, the pretty, little girl squeaked in a thin, joyful voice and giggling happily she ran down the street towards one of the houses.

Children seem helpless but at the same time we admire them. They are brave for abandoning themselves to chance as they do. They are also very ill informed of the ways of the world, Nina thought following the little girl with her gaze as it disappeared inside the house. She then folded the flyer in two and shoved it inside one of her pockets.

The protest was still at full force and very noisy. Nina looked up above her where a sign on top of an open building entrance leading to a staircase publicized the ‘Poet Maudits - Second-Hand Clothes Shop’. A single, slender, deep-red line initiated from the shop sign above the opening, ran down the side of the exterior wall, reached the pavement and rushed inside the building and up the stairs, all five flights of which Nina climbed up in pursuit of the end of the line and the ‘Poet Maudits’.

The line ended outside the wooden floorboards of an attic, boasting the same sign above its door as the one overlooking the street. The space inside was very colorful and pleasantly overflowing with fabric creations of all forms, texture and color. Pictures of primitive drawings from Oceania and Mesopotamia were hanging on the walls along with African fertility-god sculptures and photographs of the artfully decorated faces of the Omo River people in Ethiopia.

Red paper lanterns on the ceiling were producing a smooth, tangerine hued illumination that mixed with the sickly, yellow light coming from the attic windows gave Nina the feeling of floating in watery orange-juice. Next to a coat rack filled with hats a heavily pregnant lady sat on a rocking chair adjacent to a weighty oak-wood desk, eating canned sardines and drinking black coffee, dressed in a maroon, long dress and a crimson scarf. Empty bottles of wine sitting on the desk were used as vases for yellow roses, some of which were shedding their petals on the surface of the desk and floor.

The lady was rocking back and forth and reading a poetry book by Ana Akhmatova. She had a prominent nose and deep-set, dark eyes punctuated by curvaceous, honey-red lips. She also had steady, admirable hands, very sure of themselves in the way that they moved or held steadfast to the coffee cup or furniture as she pushed herself up to greet Nina. The lady had a certain noble radiance as she beamed a warm smile and patiently waited for Nina to make her way up to her.

Nina was wasting no time with misunderstandings so she straight away asked as to what currency the shop accepted. “I have been invited to a party at the ‘White Knuckle’ and this is hardly a good look for asocial gathering, so I will need to buy some clothes”, she said matter-of-factly, gesturing towards her soiled garments and shoes.

The pregnant lady laughed an elegant, musical laugh and stroked her round belly lovingly as she sat back down in her rocking chair. “We can trade things of equal sentimental value if you want”, she said rocking back and forth for a while and continued; “Though sentiments are a bit tricky to match in value between two people. Nevertheless we are going to have to risk it. What look were you hoping to achieve?” she asked Nina who was rummaging through the hanging outfits.

“I’m in a very serious frame of mind. I need something to reflect that”, she replied.

“That sounds seeeriously boring”, the pregnant shopkeeper replied in a mock-childish drawl.

“No, you don’t understand”, Nina offered apologetically. “I am in a serious frame of mind in the sense that I am ready to seriously commit to a playful approach on life, and I mean business.

“In that case I’ve got just the thing”, the lady said, slowly getting up again. She walked up next to Nina and pulled out a black and white outfit from the coat-rack, lifting it up to demonstrate to Nina with aplomb. “It’s an orchestra-conductor’s tuxedo and it is exactly your size”, she told her.

“Where did you find such a small conductor?”

“Actually, I acquired this from a ninety-year-old famous orchestra conductor who was by then very withered and small. He told me that he had shrunk 20 centimeters in the last 10 years.”

Nina gave out a sigh of sympathy for the poor shrunken man but the shopkeeper stopped her with a light gesture of her hand and explained. “He said that he was very happy with the way that his body had turned out. Apparently, as he claimed, it was coordinating with the rest of him. He said that as you get older you remain essentially the same only you learn to ‘tone it down’. Those were his exact words. ‘Tone it down’. He told me that you no longer needed big gestures and you no longer needed to impress anyone.”

“So, that’s what it’s like to grow up”, Nina murmured, awed by the narration.

“Here you go. Try it out”, the lady instructed Nina while giving her the outfit to try in the dressing room at the back of the shop.

Once inside the dressing room, Nina stood in front of the changing room mirror, not ready to change into something else just yet and looked at her reflection. There was the familiar red sweater, the black and white sneakers splotched brown and green and the light-blue, worn-out jeans with recently acquired patches of blood, grass, caked dirt and potato juice all over them. She wore very little in the way of accessories; a thin, charm bracelet and a black, plastic, electronic watch. The bracelet was a gift from her grandmother and very dear to her. The watch was just a watch. Nina took in the image in front of her, saying her goodbyes to it properly and unsentimentally. The girl on the other side said her goodbyes back.

Nina removed all her grubby clothes carefully, trying to get the least amount of dirt to immigrate to the dressing room floor and looked at her bruised, purple-splotched knees in the mirror. They looked like minute abstract paintings or purple-dye Rorschach tests. As she slipped on the smooth, black trousers, the crisp cotton shirt and the black tuxedo jacket she felt a little like a new, better person and most definitely a cleaner one than before. Stepping out of the dressing room she made a small twirl for the shopkeeper to admire her attire and express her assurances that this was indeed the right look for her, with the addition of a pair of black, leather brogues that Nina obligingly slipped on. The lady asked for her to leave her old clothes behind as payment to which she more than thankfully agreed.

“Well, you are all set now”, the shopkeeper exclaimed. “Would you like some coffee before you go?”

“Yes, please”, Nina said sitting on a short stool next to the desk, brushing some yellow rose petals aside to make space for the shopkeeper to rest a coffee cup in front of her. “Can I ask you something?” Nina asked sweetly. The lady nodded emphatically.

“What world is this exactly? What is this place called?” Nina asked while the lady poured her some steaming, hot coffee.

“We all live in our own little worlds so it’s only fair that we get to name them. I’ve called mine ‘Poet Maudits’. What would you say the name of yours is, then?”

“Ohm… Claudia?” Nina replied with delight.

“Oh, excellent!” the lady cried out matching her amusement at naming our - imaginary to others, real to us – world, silly girls’ names.

“Only problem is, I think that I might have gotten to this world by mistake from another one and I would like to know if there is some way for me to get back.”

“Define mistake, dear.”

“Well, I got into an elevator with a huge man wearing a top hat whose name is Frank – and is a sweetheart by the way – on my way out of my dentist’s. I never intended on ending up here. I got lost. It was mostly the elevator’s fault, though.”

“Elevator?” the lady asked raising her eyebrows. “You’re going to need a fountain then.”

“A fountain?” Nina asked surprised, but then the cover of ‘Alternate Universes’ immediately popped in her head along with the famous water feature on the cover of it and the woman’s statement started to sound as quite sane and practical.

“What you need to do is find a fountain and place yourself into it while thinking of where you want to go. Make a wish to get there and the fountain will take care of the rest.”

“That sounds pretty straightforward. Thank you, I appreciate your help”, Nina told her with gratitude.

“Oh, don’t mention it. Anything else you would like to ask?”

“Actually, it seems like I have a couple of hours to spare before the party”, Nina said consulting her watch. “Is there an interesting place that you suggest I visit in order to kill some time?”

“Have you been to the Botanical Gardens?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“The northern entrance is just up the road. I would suggest you pay them a visit and this is also the best time to do so. The view of the volcanic lake from the Gardens during sunset is magical”, she exclaimed.

Magical, Nina repeated in her head. Her brand new, leather brogues squeaked happily in agreement.