La Dame sans Camellias

She met him during one of those summers, which earmarked for random and occasional acquaintances. The lake was still. She walked bare footed by the fountain in the middle of the loosely distended like socket garters elliptic promenade. At the 3rd and a half mile by the very last café across Maxim’s a tall guy with a cloud that pretended to serve the needs of what may be called a red hair airily squeezed fresh juices every day. This was quite a rare view if you have to see the burning in orange and red sunset in some one’s hair it the beginning of the day. Mia glanced at him directing a thought that summer should be painted mainly in red. The place had unusual name: ”At the end of the world” …at the end of the day, at the end of the summer…so many endings one has to deal with… at least here you got a freshly squeezed juice served…at the end. The fiery sunset on the top of the tall guy’s head predicted the end of this day at the very early morning hours of it. Quite inappropriate, indeed!

Days. She couldn’t call to performance a certain day in which comfortable hammock she might have met him. Nor the particular part of the day she may have started to talk with him. She stuck a yellow memo note at this second thought of hers as a reminder to ask him. Or maybe not…what is a date indication after all?! They laid out their beach towels quite close enough to start a conversation and once it started he would usually bring a 700 ml bottle of peach taste water with the inevitable funny silhouette of an athlete on the plasticized label. And they went to swim one by one…

Evenings. ”Stop. Would you please, stop? It’s simply unbearable. Your words are in blood. Your thoughts are soaked with it that I could smell it dripping in your head”. Tears slid down Mia’s cheeks like a skier on the snow track, slowly and carefully slaloming down every hill. “It is very frightful and I wish you to stop!” Vladimir took to light the past battle terrors as if they were honour medals neatly arranged in red velvet lined leather boxes. And they were a lot. By that time she was not aware of the actual horror those 10 bloodthirsty years brought later to people’s every day life. They still had the need to eliminate, to slaughter and torment other people and it was the time in peace Vladimir didn’t survive, not the firing line. The newspapers informed one cold day in November about the violent death of the prominent fencing coach thus putting a period to Mia’s trouble why he had missed her birthday…”Here you are! I need to get hold of you from time to time…I meet you quite accidentally. This is inconvenient.” He handled her a small mobile device and went on down his way to put his boats in repair. She made an escape to the beach and the fruit-flavored water gentleman. He never managed to get hold of her.

The new year started with distinctively slow pace of a lazy tango dancer. Mia paid a visit to her summer affair in his classy arranged bureau in The Television. Sipping pensively the wine, leaving lipstick traces under the brim of her glass, she found out that for the first time she didn’t let the tears rain down her face. He brought an incontestable peace into his surroundings and settled it firmly in her life like a white marble monument representing the meaning of life. ”You’re holding up pretty good…”, he made a doubtful notice ”You know yourself at best how does it feel…huh, you lost a lot of weight – it flatters your figure. I hope this doesn’t sound arrogantly to you. They made love in the late afternoon that had nothing to deal with the office on-the-way affairs. Understandably, this was laying the firm base of a caramelized hazelnuts tradition. At later days he would grow tingly-in-the-pants feeling of vague jealousy. Just enough to make it pleasant for her.