Slice Of Life

August, 2002

Do you remember that night? You do remember it, don't you? Snow, dimly lit Drottningatan, slippery mud underneath your feet. You can barely walk for the heels of your shoes got broken and its soles are as thin as a parchment paper, so you feel every single cobblestone you step on.

Unfriendly wind throws cold and wet snow into your face and you feel mascara running down your cheeks. Your long fur coat got wet and heavy and it makes it even more difficult to walk. To walk... Where? Are you going to the rail station to call your parents? Again? And then? Oh, you are going to look for a place to spend an evening. You want so desperately to find a warm and crowded place to crash. Can you afford it? Have you even been to a bar in Stockholm? Do you have any idea how expensive it might get? Yes, you do. Is it why you started to set some money aside a long time before this trip? You have your limits set, don't you? No more than what?! Did you just say “sixty crones a night”? Good luck, girl.

Yes, I do remember all of it as clearly as if it happened just yesterday. I could never imagine that it’s possible to dislike a place so much, but, obviously, it is, for this is how I feel about the street I am on now. I do my best to avoid it, to walk around it, but I am so tired by now that I don't want to play games anymore. Drottningatan will take me straight to my hotel, so I keep walking. This long and wide street reminds me of a stage in a theatre after a performance is over, all actors left, but scenery is still there. I feel like I am an actor who got confused and forgot that the play is over and keeps playing her part. I am surrounded by scenery of lights, brightly lit windows, huge signs welcoming to come in, but as I get closer I find that all doors are locked, everything is silent and deserted. I am the only one alive here and look at me now: wet hair stuck to my face, I am sweaty but I am shivering for snow got behind the collar of my coat, melted and now, with a cold drop, is running down my back.

I walk down the street, through a dark alley, lit up only by lights from a few windows here and there, down narrow staircase until I end up at a wide and bright avenue. Zooooom! Cars passing by. I look around and carefully read names of street and places. Finally, I see a brightly lit entrance and a name, which sounds so grand to me: "Hard Rock Cafe". I have been in one, in London, years ago. At once, I imagine a crowded place, loud music, excitement and staying up until early morning. "Unfortunately, we are open only until 10 PM tonight...(I am looking at my watch and I feel my heart sinking. It’s almost 9 PM)…but there is a bar across the street. I am pretty sure that it’s open until 3 AM”. I really want to give this guy a hug, but instead, I rush outside. I smile as I, half-running, cross the avenue (never mind my broken heels).

Back at the hotel, I storm into the room and see Olya sitting on a bed.

- I found a great place nearby. Do you want to go?

- No, I don’t feel well and also, there is a movie with Julia Roberts on TV I want to watch.

I go one floor down and knock on a door. It’s even good that Olya didn’t want to go; I have always preferred to go out with Valay, anyway.

- Hey, I found a great place nearby. Do you want to go?

- Give me 15 minutes and I will meet you downstairs.

You love this place, don’t you? As soon as you walk in, music, voices, smell of cigars and cigarettes wraps all around you. It’s a club or rather a bar with a small stage in a far left corner. Almost all tables are occupied, but, fortunately, Valya sees people leaving a table by a window. You march right to it, take off your coats and hats, and make yourselves comfortable. A bit later, you go to the bar and look at the menu. This is precisely what you have expected. You have just enough money to buy beer.

- Two beers.

Yes, it was exactly like that. Dim light, music in the background, foreign language and smoke. We sit at a table across each other; there is a bottle, used as a candleholder, in between us. It feels so warm, so comfortable, so relaxed. I look at Valya and I want to tell her how beautiful she is right now, but I hold the words back for I know they are going to spoil everything. Yes, she is beautiful. Sometimes, when she doesn’t know that I look at her, when she leans her head to the left and stares somewhere in the distance, and when her hair run down her shoulders. She looks so serious and naïve. Her beauty is so fragile, so still, like the surface of a pure forest lake, high in the mountains then a single leaf is enough to disturb its stillness. At moments like this, she seems so close and so far away, so much involved with something that I cannot sense from being only a few feet away.

I look outside. It’s getting late. The big avenue is getting empty; there are no more cars zooming by. It’s snowing heavily and the street is covered with a white blanket, which is getting thicker. It doesn’t melt any more. It got cold. It seems like there is nothing else in the whole world except this table, candle, window and snow, which seems to fall till the end of time.

Valay catches his eyes. I glance at him, too. He stops for a few seconds, makes a couple steps back and disappears. Few moments later, he shows up inside. He is here. We know without a shadow of a doubt that he came in because we caught his eyes.

He puts a big backpack on a floor and takes off his winter jacket.

- Another beer? I ask Valya. I walk to the bar.

- Two beers.

We know that he is going to come to us and he knows that, too. It’s just a matter of time. This place is open until 3 AM.