“Strange!” I said, staring at the fire’s embers.
“What’s so strange?” Eva asked, turning her head.
“I almost forgot about that conversation with my old man. I probably hid it somewhere, in a little drawer of my mind, but now it came out of nowhere, as fresh as if it happened yesterday. We hide various things in the corners of our minds. It’s strange how they sometimes surface.”
“Yes,” she agreed thoughtfully.
“Thinking back to what my dad said then, I kind of wish I could go back in time and be twenty-one again. Oh, yes! I think I’d give all the money I have in the bank just to be that age again, even for a day.”
“Would you do things differently? If you had the chance?”
Interesting question! Would I? I thought for a few seconds, then answered with a smile:
“Probably I wouldn’t have enough sense to do things differently, but I’d have clean, fresh lungs again. That would be worth all the money.”
Eva laughed.
“I’m serious, girl! Currently, my inventory looks like this: I have a young mind of about… fourteen years old, my body is forty-four, and in my chest, I have lungs aged seventy-four. I feel it every time I cough. Fortunately, now I cough less often.”
“That means the island regimen suits you,” she said mockingly.
“Indeed, it does.”
* * *
The very next day, I told Irina about my dad’s opinion on marriage, but I kept his other observations to myself.
She understood. Introducing her to my parents wasn’t urgent. We both agreed to postpone the event for more favorable times.
On the other hand, we concluded that it was vital to get at least her mother’s blessing. After all, we were going to live under her roof, right?
So, I had to officially ask for Irina’s hand from her mother and do everything in my power to get a favorable answer. It was in my best interest!
If I failed, I knew already that I was condemned to death because sooner or later, my balls would explode and I would be found in a ditch by the morning police patrol.
I would become just another footnote squeezed on one of the newspaper pages:
LOVE STRIKES AGAIN!
Another young man found dead in a university campus alley!
It appears the death was instantaneous due to a testicular explosion.
Doctors declare this is the 143rd case recorded since the beginning of the year.
Girls, don’t keep the boys waiting!
Irina had given me some money to handle the meeting with her mother honorably, but I had spent it on other things, so I sought out Alfredo and explained the shitty situation I was in.
So there I was, wandering with Alfredo from florist to florist. That day, I really needed some flowers.
I had already taken care of the other matters with great attention. I went to the barber, got groomed, shaved to perfection, and then stood under the shower so long that my dad got angry and barged in on me in the bathroom.
“Hot water costs money!” he yelled. “This is a bathroom, not a sauna! Get out!”
I had asked my mom to iron the best pair of pants I had, the ones Irina bought me, and to prove my good intentions, I even strangled myself with a damned tie.
So, now I was in the flower shop with Alfredo. I looked like a groom dressed to the nines, but I was as stiff as if I were in an astronaut suit.
“Aren’t those flowers good?” I asked my friend impatiently, pointing to some chrysanthemums.
“Those are for the dead, Tiberiu!” he replied, lost in thought.
“Right!” I thought, grinning sardonically. “Maybe it would be simpler to buy Ella a funeral wreath directly!”
Finally, Alfredo made up his mind. He explained to the saleswoman what kind of bouquet I wanted and how it should be arranged. I had to admit to myself that my friend knew his stuff.
When I got off the tram holding that broom-like bouquet, inspiration struck me, and I suddenly told Alfredo:
“Damn, I forgot the most important thing!”
“What?” he jumped. “What did you forget?”
“It’s clear you’re clueless about social etiquette,” I said disdainfully. “Is there a liquor store around here?”
“You’re right!” Alfredo admitted.
We took a small detour, crossed a boulevard, and eventually, God led us to a liquor store. It was small but well-stocked.
“We’d like a sweet red wine,” Alfredo explained to the seller.
“No, we wouldn’t!” I jumped in. I pulled Alfredo aside and explained worriedly: “Man, do you want to ruin me? It’s clear you have no idea! Step aside, let me handle this! My happiness, my future is at stake! Do you want me to look like a bumpkin in front of my future mother-in-law?” Then I turned to the seller and pointed decisively at a shelf: “We’d like that square bottle of whiskey. The massive one, yes! How many stars does it have? Oh, superb! How much does it cost?”
Alfredo grabbed his head in disbelief.
Five minutes later, we were in front of the building. Right at the entrance, some pensioners were sitting at a table playing chess so intently that they didn’t even look in our direction.
“I can’t go any further,” Alfredo told me. “From here on, you’re on your own. Good luck!”
I felt a wave of anxiety and looked at him without saying a word. He must have seen something on my face, probably not a good sign, because my friend added encouragingly:
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right here! I’ll play a game of chess until you get back. Courage, Tiberiu! Breathe deep and go! Come on, take the bull by the horns!”
I looked disdainfully at the elevator and climbed the stairs slowly, like an old man. By the seventh floor, I had time to think of a suitable attack strategy. I had to use my head.
I gathered my courage and told myself:
“If I can’t convince her, the only solution will be to strangle her, and that’s it. Irina and I will have more space in the apartment.”
I had practiced my little speech at home, in front of the mirror, which started with “Ma’am, please grant me your daughter’s hand…” and ended with something like “I will make Irina happy.”
I had rehearsed the speech in various tones, like a lawyer preparing to deliver a fatal blow to the prosecutor’s case. I had practiced with arguments and counterarguments.
The result was always the same: Irina’s mother, crying with emotion, granted me her daughter’s hand and gave us her full blessing.
I would leave that apartment more victorious than Attila. It would be my first success as a future lawyer. I was only in my second year, but my career had already begun. That was the true day I became a lawyer.
I slapped myself twice to stay lucid, then pulled out the note from my pocket with the main points of my speech. I rehearsed one more time on the stairs. My God, it was perfect!
“Ma’am… dear ma’am…”
What the hell! I was going to nail it!
When I reached door number 78, I pressed the doorbell without the slightest hesitation. The door opened suddenly, and I found myself face to face with my future mother-in-law.
I froze, paralyzed like an idiot.
I forgot everything.
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