Manda

Just after waking up, the day before, I took my suitcase out and left it by the door. For a moment, I rested my gaze on the suitcase; it paused in place like a symbol -the object of a just in case reshaped as a fragment hurling into orbit around my body, a persistent reminder. On my phone, the time was 5.30. My neck felt stiff, and my legs were exhausted. I could hear her calm breathing from the left side of the bed. With mindful movements, as silently as possible, I moved around the almost-dark room and peeked out the window; the sky was still dark. Nobody was still in the living room, I realised. The chairs rested on the hardwood floor, empty around a silent table, curtains sealed off the ashtray full of cigarette butts. Out of nowhere, I felt a quiver flooding me like a cascade. The scene seemed a mirage flickering inside me, mixed with the thoughts I was trying to avoid—very fatalistic, rooted in the fear of absence. The echo of that feeling didn’t leave me for a while as I sat on the bench outside, drinking my coffee, watching the grass, solidly cycloned by the fence, in that convicted state—unmovable and contained. But beyond that fence, there was more grass, interspersed with bald dirt patches, like an unfortunate head of hair. Sparse structures, scattered forgotten industry relics on the horizon, were ready like the day to open to me from minute to minute, a peculiar movement gradually mesmerizing and demanding my attention. At the same time, a blurry, velvety fabling hill came into view.I don’t think I did it consciously; my hand snapped a pic of the moment emerging in a day. Later, I remained absent of any interest as I was occupied by some plants in the front yard. If you are here craving closure, I must tell you upfront: there is none. I watered the plants, and then I stepped into the shower. After I had gotten dressed, I decided to walk through the solitary landscape. It was not warm enough, and it started drizzling. You would laugh at me, swearing at my luck because I wore only my T-shirt and no overcoat. Still, after warming up to the walk for a while, the feeling gave me a paradoxical relief like giving up to the raindrops. I was walking next to a small road, surrounded by only a few trees and the occasional passing car. This road leads to the house settlement, around 5 to 6 km from the cottage, in the middle of the bush, without any people in sight, but paradoxically not real solitude per se. Then my mind went to Zerta’s fascination with this alienating place. Two signals, almost metaphysical, she caught the day she first visited the cottage with the real estate agent: a crow threw a persimmon just a few centimeters before her feet. The weather was particularly symbolic that day: windy but sunny, like when her mother passed away. Soon after reaching the first house of the complex, I saw a man’s figure approaching me from the opposite direction. His walking style was confident, leaving no doubt that he wanted to reach me; he was coming for me. His body was using big movements, which were exaggerated by his baggy grey pants and oversized long leather jacket. I tried to recognize him from afar, but it was difficult, and I didn’t let this stop me from moving forward and pointing my eyes at him like a reassured man. The man’s face was now visible, and he had a weird mustache near his chin, connected to the dark beard. His long hair flowed left and right, unwashed for a long time.My heart started beating. I paused and stood within 5 cm of his face. He smiled and said: Hey its me R. Where have you been so long? I couldn’t recognize him at all. Only the name R. rang something into my mind; his face was so different from the past; he had grown so old all these 5 years that I hadn’t seen him. I pretended not to be surprised and shook his hand. “ What are you doing in this place? I never seen you around before.” “Oh, he winked at me. A lady at the corner rents one of the rooms to me. The rent is low; it’s a steal, said and hit me friendly on my shoulder. “I knew that you were spending time around here. I was told by our friends. Given my difficult times, the news gave me the idea to search this area for a semi-permanent home. Oh, I leaned my head to the right. Is that so? Are friends telling you about me? Do we have common friends? Yes, we do. Oh, this man forgets like a fish. Did you forget our secret company, Driftwood? Does it sound familiar to you? Oh yeah, right the driftwood clan, I shout. D ok ok. I sat there, unsure what to say next, and he pierced his eyes on me with impatience. Unable to continue our conversation, I became distraught with that forgotten face.We drifted apart so long ago, and we have nothing in common to talk about. Then, relieved, I remembered Manda. I asked him about her. With the most nonchalant face, he said to me that she is dead; she killed herself two years ago. The news of her death shook me. Manda used to be a face I saw every weekday in class. She had a very interesting fashion sense and a very cheerful personality; her smile shone very often, especially when I opened the classroom door and showed her. We had an affair for a couple of months. The affair started very romantic and sweet with my blanket on her shoulders, keeping her warm at that picnic meeting around six in the afternoon in the park with champagne and lots of laughs.Eventually, her joy became very tiring and unbearable for me, and things ended on good terms. We agreed to remain good friends, but for the rest of the semester, we only kept friendly greetings and nothing more. At this point, I remained silent. It must have been quite long because I sensed R.’s discomfort. I shook his hand and found an excuse to leave, giving him the empty promise of calling him sometime.