“I’m already here…” she read his message. She thought about how unnecessarily dangerous it was to keep texting while driving. Why don’t I have his phone number? she wonde
“…just 20 more minutes max…traffic’s decent,” she wrote back.
“No problem. I waited three years; I can handle a few more minutes,” he replied almost immediately.
“Should I order something? Anything you’d like?” He was secretly hoping she’d say she wanted him.
“I’ll leave it to you. Pick something,” she teased as she smiled at her phone.
“On it…” He liked her decisiveness.
I doubt you’ll remember what I like, but I’ll let you surprise me, she thought as she passed a short line of cars. The traffic was beginning to thicken.
“Oh no…” she muttered. “I’ll have to take another route.” Around the next bend, a much longer queue of cars appeared, and the last ones were already braking hard.
“It’s going to take a bit longer,” she texted. “I need to detour through Trenton.”
This time, she had to wait a little longer for his reply.
“Okay…I’ll keep myself busy. A colleague gave me a manuscript to read, so now’s the perfect time.”
“Fine…you’re not mad, are you?” she asked.
“Why would I be? Not everything can be planned, and we have the whole weekend ahead of us. Just get here safely,” he reassured her.
“Thanks, you’re a gem,” she wrote back, adding a small heart emoji. It was green. She’d hit the wrong one by accident.
Time flew by as he got lost in the manuscript. He glanced at his watch—an hour had passed.
Everything okay? he messaged her.
The message didn’t deliver.
Must be out of range, he thought. He set the manuscript aside and started staring at the undelivered message icon. Five minutes passed. Nothing. Then another five. Still nothing. He began to feel uneasy.
He thought about the area she might be driving through. He knew it well enough. No…there’s nowhere on that road where she’d lose signal. So why hasn’t it delivered?
Maybe her phone died after a long day. He immediately dismissed the thought. She’d raved so often about how convenient the wireless charger in her car was.
He restarted the data on his phone. When that didn’t help, he restarted the whole device. Okay, maybe the issue’s on my end, he thought, urging the phone to reboot faster.
“Come on…” he muttered. PIN, fingerprint, start Messenger… damn it, he fumbled. He restarted the app again, just to be sure.
“Boo!”
The voice startled him from behind.
“You’ve been waiting long, huh?” she said, leaning in close so he could catch the scent of her Burberry perfume. He loved that scent.
He kissed her gently. She didn’t pull away or comment. She simply sat down and raised her eyebrows playfully.
“So, did you pick something? Do you remember what I like?”
“To be honest…I have no idea what you like,” he admitted. “In fact, I wouldn’t even know where to remember it from. But I do remember when he introduced us. And I remember how I had to stop myself from staring at you.”
She smiled.
“I was thinking of a Caesar salad with salmon…and champagne. Cristal, maybe. It’s a special day, and I want to talk for hours. Not pass out stuffed with Chateaubriand.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing you talk,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
“No, no—you can’t look forward to it,” he reminded her of their playful exchange from the night before. “Whenever I get excited about something, it ends up falling flat, like cheap sparkling wine.”
“We need to exchange phone numbers,” they both said simultaneously.
They burst out laughing, easing the atmosphere.
“You’re such a clown…utterly unbelievable. And inked, too,” she teased, pointing to his arm.
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his fully tattooed forearm.
The older couple at the next table visibly stiffened.
They talked for hours, the last guests reluctant to leave. Their conversation spanned everything—life, interests, values. They tried to outdo each other with the craziest things they’d ever done and the wildest ideas they still wanted to try.
The waiter subtly hinted multiple times that, while he appreciated their company, he’d like to go home. Yet her smile and his generous tips kept him from pressing the matter.
At the reception, they picked up the room key.
“Married?” the receptionist asked.
“That’s none of your business,” he replied to the unnecessary question.
“Of course, my apologies. Enjoy the rest of your night,” the receptionist said, watching the entwined couple walk off.
He unlocked the door.
“Go ahead,” he said, letting her enter first.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.
A suite straight out of a movie, she thought, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Wow…this is it, he thought.
“Shall we have something to drink?” he asked, heading toward the minibar.
“I could go for some bread with lard, homemade cracklings, and onions,” she teased roguishly. “And you,” she added.
“In that order? Seriously?” he turned to her.
“I’ll leave the order up to you.”
He returned empty-handed.
She had leaned back on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. She was lying flat, her eyes closed. Her short skirt had ridden up higher than usual. He knew she was waiting.
He leaned over her, kissed her, and felt her breath quicken. He lightly grazed her neck with his teeth, moving toward her ear.
“I have an idea…come on.”
She opened her eyes, disappointed.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see…we’ll go for a drive and come back after.”
“And where are we going?”
“I don’t know yet. It’s not about where, it’s about why.”
“And why are we going?”
“You’ll see. Trust me. Just as you are—no need to change. The car is warm.”
They slipped past the sleepy receptionist.
“We’ll take mine,” he said, opening the back door for her.
“You don’t want me to sit up front with you? You could…”
“We’ll talk,” he interrupted her. “Talk about making love…until it becomes unbearable, and I have to stop. Anywhere.”
The Three Fates—at least that’s what they claimed to be—bent over his cradle. The first smiled kindly and said, “I grant you the ability to recognize and appreciate beauty. But you will never be able to create it yourself. This will not be an easy life.” The second spoke next: “You will always be surrounded by people… most of whom will be indifferent to you.” The third leaned closer, her voice laced with cruelty: “Welcome to hell.”
He never forgot their words. He knew all three of them from his past lives. The original Fates who were supposed to attend his birth hadn’t made it in time. That wasn’t common. Strange.
“Why do you think I don’t know?” he said. “Your eyes, they’re brown. Brown like chocolate, and just as addictive for me.” But it wasn’t really an answer. She hadn’t asked anything. He was just prepared to respond if she ever did. He had all the answers ready for her, though it was unnecessary. Every time she was near, instead of deep, meaningful thoughts, all he could do was spew nonsense. Like a schoolboy caught smoking in the bathroom, he felt awkward and embarrassed, yet unable to do anything about it. He wanted to be close to her, to make things easier for her, because he believed she needed that.
Only much later did he realize how much he overestimated his ability to help. She was far stronger and more resilient than he’d assumed. Probably like most women. But by the time this dawned on him, he’d already ruined everything. Or perhaps not. It wasn’t as if he’d had the power to ruin anything. He wasn’t that high on the food chain of her life. They simply had different lives, different suns, and different dreams. He’d fallen in love without having any idea what to do with that gift. He had nothing to offer, only pieces of himself to lose—little by little, or all at once.
He rarely took vacations, so he was absolutely sure of the day she started working at the company. “Did you see her?” he wanted to shout. He needed someone to witness that he hadn’t lost his mind. She was real, not just some electrical misfire in his brain. “Girl, you’re going to have a hard time here. Good luck, pretty.”
And then the realization struck: “Oh no, she’s with… shit. Some people are just born lucky. Makes sense now.” He’d seen her walk by many times after that. What puzzled him was that she never seemed to look around or notice anyone else. Or maybe it happened so quickly he missed it. It was as if someone had forbidden her from interacting with others. But he got it. He’d be jealous too.
“You guys ever tried walking in heels?” he mused to himself. “I don’t mean just making it safely from point A to point B. I mean walking in a way that makes everyone else lose their balance.”
He was one of those who lost his balance. He’d freeze in place every time she passed by, just to avoid accidentally crashing into a wall. Damn you, Fate!
At work, he kept to himself, so there was no one to talk to about it. He almost wanted to tell his wife how beautiful the new girl at work was, but he wisely reconsidered. That conversation wouldn’t have gone over well at home.
“If she ever needs anything, she can come to me,” he told himself. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m here to serve, to help others.” That’s all he’d ever done, whether he wanted to or not. The result was always the same.
Once, in his life, he’d become someone’s plaything. That wasn’t great. What if she was just a plaything too? A toy for someone who didn’t cherish their toys? Could you really form a bond with one toy when you had so many? Probably not. Definitely not. When a toy breaks or becomes boring, you just move on to another. That was a world he despised. He assumed she felt the same way. A wave of solidarity washed over him. “I’ll help her open other people’s eyes. I promise.”
Yes, he forgot to check if anyone actually wanted his help. But why would he? For gratitude? Isn’t it better to help without expecting anything in return? Of course it is. From the moment he learned they’d be collaborating occasionally, he tried to make things easier for her. Wow. He hadn’t even lifted a finger yet, and she was already standing just a step away.
She was even more natural and beautiful up close than he’d imagined. No enigmatic sphinx—she could laugh, and she enjoyed a good joke. Or so it seemed. God, she’s so lovely. He nearly melted, like a snowman under a summer sun. For a moment, he forgot about the Fates who had welcomed him into the world. Not for long, though. By the afternoon, he was certain she wouldn’t even remember his name the next day. It was always like that. King of the Naïve.
But they did meet again the next day. When was the last time he’d had a proper conversation with anyone? Until now, he’d essentially paid people to listen to him. He’d never told anyone as much as he told her. If she’d been an investigator for a case from his wild days in the ‘90s, he’d have confessed to everything in under two minutes. He lost his equilibrium. For a Libra, that was a particularly significant malfunction.
“Houston, we have a problem,” he thought to himself on the way home.
“She’s so addictively compelling. I have to be more careful. People at home are starting to look at me funny. Is it really that obvious? Or have I just been reacting differently to the same old stimuli?” He spoke aloud to himself.
“I hope I’m not talking in my sleep,” he suddenly worried. “Breathe in, breathe out, calm down. It’s nothing. You’ve done nothing wrong. Maybe just stop walking around with that stupid grin plastered across your face. You’ve read about this somewhere, haven’t you?”
“I don’t want to fight this,” he admitted. He liked the feeling. Yes, that was it. It was just a pleasant feeling, and he didn’t want it to end.
“I need to talk to her. I’ll just be open with her and… damn it, what exactly am I going to say? Focus, man.”
That I’ve fallen in love? Am I in love, or what is this even supposed to be?
Despite his thoughts scattering in every direction, they all pointed to one place—her. Whatever he thought about always led back to her.
Where? With her. When? Whenever she says. How? However she wants. What? What does she think? Why? Because of her.
Have you even slept? You idiot, you even forgot to eat. But that’s fine. This kind of weight loss is automatic. Once, you tried that protein diet, and it worked. I’ll just buy a tub of chocolate-flavored protein powder and be set. Didn’t she joke about not talking to me if I become a skeleton? That must’ve been a joke, right?
Is there anything I couldn’t do right now? Need someone to reverse the Earth’s rotation? Not a problem.
“Do you have time to stop by? I need something,” he texted her. She said yes. “You know, I got this idea. I’d like to buy you something.”
“Don’t you dare,” she warned him.
He grabbed her wrist gently and smiled. She didn’t smile back. In every movie and every book, when a woman said no, she meant yes. It never even occurred to him that she might have meant exactly what she said. He was simply happy at the thought of making her happy.
Too bad the weekend was starting. Two days without seeing her. The weekend flew by, as weekends tend to.
I hope I catch her before she leaves, he thought. There she was, walking. I can still wish her a good weekend. Ouch. She saw me coming and deliberately turned to face the other way. …Why? What did I do?
The weekend blurred past him.
Finally, Monday. Finally, back at work. He had to see her. “Hi, Nomy,” he greeted her, relieved.
“Hi,” she whispered and walked away quickly. His world exploded. It was his personal Big Bang. Several of them, actually. He couldn’t understand. The bees vanished, the batteries died, the sun went out. Darkness. Don’t forget to breathe.
“You were working. I didn’t want to disturb you, you know,” she texted him later.
Not buying it. You know you can’t disturb me. Something happened. I must’ve said something wrong, or she found something out about me. But what? I told her everything there was to tell.
Men don’t cry, remember? I don’t care what men are supposed to do or not do. Can I, just for once, do something I want? I have to ask her, explain to her… what was it the third Fate said? That I’d think about her every second of the day? No, she didn’t say that.
“I think about you every third and fourth second of the day,” he texted her. Liar. He thought about her constantly. Always. First, second, third, fourth… first, second…
Oh God, what did I just text her? Now I look like a complete idiot. Way to go. Another stupid thing to add to the pile. Always proofread before hitting send. …Unless she deletes my messages immediately.
I can’t text her anymore. I know I can’t. There are so many things I shouldn’t do. The list of things I’m allowed is so much shorter. Calm down… breathe deeply. Think about happy things. But I am thinking about happy things. I haven’t felt this happy in ages.
Where are you, Fates? Hiding? You should really be separated. You’re not allowed to hang out together. Neither are we. No one is. Everyone against everyone. I’m seriously losing it.
You love your music. It’s always helped you. You live in a different world. Hey, little soldier, you’ll live with me forever. You’ll stay on my left forearm. My right one will get something too—a greeting to the world and all my friends.
Remember… once, you wished everyone would forget about you. It was so much easier back then. You didn’t want to trouble anyone… how long ago was that? Twenty years? You were alone then. You missed your chance to set yourself free.
She must’ve been born around that time.
Wow, I really am old. There’s nothing between us… just those twenty years… forgive me. Old people are blind and deaf. And I deserve this. Look at you, how out of your depth you are. Surprised? How do I make it so I can be with her? Here we go again. How long does this take to pass?
But I don’t want it to pass. The real question is, how do I avoid being a burden to her presence? That’s not the answer either. Was that disaster at home in February or January?
But I don’t want it to pass. The real question is, how do I avoid being a burden to her presence? That’s not the answer either. Was that disaster at home in February or January? I never kept secrets at home, never even thought of hiding bank statements.
“Did you buy jewelry for some woman?” my wife asked. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, like this would never happen to you all. You’re all so loyal, flawless, and perfect. Drink the cup of bitterness to the last drop. I’m a despicable bastard. How long did I end up living in my car?
If I could, I’d hug her. Stroke her hair. Cheer her up. But wouldn’t anyone want that? She isn’t for you, my friend. You can’t have everything. Even if you stood on your head. Repeat it to yourself. Constantly. Don’t forget it.
Can you eat now? Try it. Doesn’t taste good? Taste is just a wrapper. Eat, even if you don’t feel like it. You’re a chemist. You know how the human body works. If sadness can be created chemically, surely happiness can too. Dopamine. The quickest route is through drugs. No, I definitely don’t need everything. So, where can we find dopamine in nature? Think. You love plants. Of course! Bananas!
Just eat three kilos of bananas daily, and you’ll be as good as new in a month. She even smiled at you again, didn’t she? Of course, you noticed. Just hang in there. Don’t bother her. Be nice and don’t bother her. Damn it, yesterday was Women’s Day, and I didn’t wish her anything. Now she’ll think I’m rude. Or worse, that I forgot about her. Or worst of all, that I’ve finally forgotten her. But no. I think of nothing else; that’s why I can’t even remember the date.
I know this has dragged on for far too long. I’m acting like a stalker. And even my attempt at that is pathetic.
March. My first surgery as a patient. I’m nervous because they’re going to put me under, and I’ll be completely out of control. As if I’m in control now. If only it were something more serious. Maybe they’d accidentally perform a lobotomy. They didn’t. Too bad. Maybe then I’d fit in.
“We’ll arrange transport to take you home,” they offered for my good behavior.
“Thanks, but I have my car here,” I said, trying to pose.
“Are you sure you’ll manage to drive?” they raised their eyebrows.
“Oh, I’ll be fine. I need the practice. Got to be ready for work,” I replied. If only they knew why, they’d have walked the 180 kilometers every day.
They gave me a list of things I couldn’t do for three months. Okay. Added Nomy to that list myself. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
Ah, now I see why they didn’t want me driving. I can’t even get out of the car.
What exactly was on the list again? No sex, even when I got home. Exercise with extreme caution. Everything hurts. Nomy? I’ll just send her a joke. Later.
April. Still here. Walking like an invalid. Needs more training. Train everything. I’m holding on. I’ll just send her an occasional joke. Does it even sound like a joke? And May is coming. In May, she has her name day. I’ll just wish her a happy name day. I’ll think of something original. Can’t I just wish her something simple for once? Leave it as you wrote it. Don’t try to improve it. Look, you managed. You don’t need to write anything else.
“Can you come to quality control, please?” she called in June.
Don’t break your legs running over there!
But no… I opened the door and saw a little spread laid out. It hit me—it was her birthday. Nomy, what are you doing to me? I was finally behaving and staying out of trouble. Now you’re dangerously close again. So fragrant. This wasn’t supposed to happen. To the day, it’s been three months since everything was forbidden. I can’t understand it. I’m like a moth drawn to the flame. How do I explain all this to you? How much I’m fighting it. How much shame I feel. It’s too much for me, and too much is too much.
I could write a book about it.
Yes, that’s it—I’ll try to explain everything to you in a book. Maybe then you’ll understand me. I need to apologize. I’ll try through a book, or at least a story. I once wrote a book about how I don’t know how to live. It’s going to be a bit of hell to go through this again, but I really want you to know how things are. That from different angles, it always looks just a little bit different. Just a little.
