"Are we playing chess or not?" Eva asks, getting all cutesy. "Come on, Tiberiu, just one game and that's it!"
"No."
"You're unbelievable!" she says, batting her lashes. "But how do you know your luck won't turn? You never know! Maybe this time I'll end up being your slave." She tosses her queen into my lap and keeps going in a joking tone: "Come on, admit it! You'd want me to be your slave, wouldn't you? You'd like that?"
I swallow hard and look at her. Is she flirting with me or messing with me? Two days ago she was lunging at me, trying to kill me, and now I could swear she's an angel.
Cute? Yeah. Funny? Yeah. Sincere? Ugh... who the hell can figure women out?
"Your slave, you say? What would I do with you? I don't need anything you've got."
"Nothing?" she asks, pouting.
I think she's putting on a show.
"Absolutely nothing."
"Aha... fine! Good boy! Yesterday you were in love, today you're bored. Very flattering."
"Eva, sorry if I made you think otherwise," I try to smooth things over. "Men spew all kinds of stupid shit when they're in heat. You get it, right?"
"Oh, yes, I get it," she drawls. "You don't want me anymore. Fine. I can accept that. After all, a woman can't be desired all the time. But even when she's not desired, she's still got her demands, right?"
"I'm not sure I understand," I say, playing dumb.
"Oh yes, you do. Let's handle this like a business deal. We play chess and settle it in one game. If I win, pay attention..."
"I'm all ears. What is it? A foot massage?"
"Nein. If I win, you're mine tonight. No fuss, no holding back. And no stupid jokes like 'I finished too fast! Sorry!'"
I start laughing. Eva, Eva... you really know how to twist the knife.
"And if I win?"
"If you win, I agree to be yours, but same thing--no stupid jokes like 'I finished too fast! Sorry!'"
"Well that's a scam!" I yell, scandalized. "Either way, I'm the one doing all the work. I knew it was a scam."
"So, what do you say?" she asks, and gives me a wink. "We playing... chess?"
I look at her, quiet and calm. She's not getting her hands on me. Not a chance!
"No! I don't think I'm in the mood right now, Eva. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. What's the damn rush, girl?"
Eva knocks the chess pieces away in one swipe. A pawn smacks me in the head, and sand goes everywhere.
"I was joking," she says with icy calm. "Who needs you?"
Next to us, the remains of a few pieces of wood are still smoldering--too wet to burn, but dry enough to fill us with smoke. My eyes sting. The smoke doesn't seem to bother the girl. She takes a bite from her piece of fish. Today we only caught one, and we each have half. I'm not really hungry. My liver hurts from those half-baked eggs. Bad. Really bad, but I suffer in silence.
"Sometimes I feel terribly old," I sigh, my hand on my damn liver.
"Old? Are you serious?" she asks, all sweet.
"Yeah, dead serious. Eggs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner are killing me. What do you care? You could eat rocks. You're young, you're healthy, you've got your whole life ahead of you. You'll live to ninety-nine and you'll have dozens of grandkids back there in Germany. On cold nights in Marburg, you'll gather all your little grandkids by the fireplace and tell them about your adventures from your faraway youth. They'll listen with their mouths hanging open when you tell them about me."
"Especially when I tell them about 'I finished too fast! Sorry!'"
"Don't push it, you're not funny anymore," I growl.
"Ninety-nine? Grandkids? I like how you think," she says, smiling, "but what you're predicting isn't going to happen."
"Why not? You've got good odds."
Eva pulls a sharp bone out of her mouth, studies it, then carefully places it on the little pile next to her.
"After what we just went through, I think you're too optimistic, mein Herr. It's very likely I won't even make it to twenty-six. Someone who lives through that much hell in that short a time... I don't think they've got much of a chance of reaching old age."
She goes back to her fish and, patiently, manages to finish it. She looks calmly at the other piece and asks me:
"You eating that piece, old timer?"
"No, I can't anymore."
"Good; then give it here. I'm young and I need calories. Who knows? Maybe I'll still make it to ninety-nine."
After she's done eating, she throws her clothes off and stays the way her mother made her. She's in the mood to mess with me again, I know it, so I pretend I don't notice her.
"I'm going to splash around a bit, old man. You coming?"
"I don't think so."
"Got it. Your liver's killing you. Bye!"
I know she won't venture too far. She can't swim at all.
After fifteen minutes, I give in and toss my briefs on the sand. Eva greets me by splashing me with foamy water.
"Wanna learn to swim, girl? You want me to teach you?"
"Only if you promise you won't dunk my head under."
Our swim lesson doesn't last long. Eva's in the mood for fooling around more than swimming.
I pretend to let her go, then I let her go for real. She manages to get her head under the water. She takes in a big mouthful of water. I pull her out fast, and she sputters, furious.
"What the hell are you doing?" she screams, and she clings to my neck, so I end up swallowing a mouthful of water too.
A few minutes later, I'm wrecked with exhaustion. She's panting too.
The water isn't very deep. Eva's wrapped around my neck like a vine and lightly drags a knee across a certain area somewhere down there under the water. I let her mess around. I'll admit it--I don't hate it.
Maybe I'm exaggerating. I'm not really as old as I think. Truth is, my liver is old, not me. And my lungs are old. But the rest is very young. Especially my mind.
The waves hit us gently, and the feel of the girl's body against mine gives me a shameless erection. Obviously! I knew I was young.
I kiss her for a long time. Eva lets my lips take over, presses into me more and more, pants in my ear, and wraps her arms around my neck.
I feel myself getting harder and harder. I want to put her down right there and have her, right there.
"Eva," I say, a little hoarse, "let's go out to the beach for a bit, onto the sand."
"Why?" she laughs and looks straight into my eyes. "It's good here. You don't like it?" Then she reaches down to show me what I already know. He seems to like it too. He's looking pretty damn impressive. Salt water does him good.
"Let's go to shore," I beg, hoarse. "Don't you want to make love?"
"Make love?" She laughs. "Well, well, big words! I don't know what to say. I was thinking of having sex with you, but you're coming at me with these shameless proposals."
"Make love, have sex, do gymnastics... call it whatever you want. I want you."
Her eyes are very calm. She's lucid and steady:
"I don't think I'm in the mood right now. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. What's the damn rush, old man?"
"Oh, go to hell!" I mumble.
I grit my teeth and don't answer her anymore, but I pull away from her and stomp out to shore, furious.
"What is it? You mad at me? You sure you can't hold out till tomorrow?"
Eva laughs like a lunatic behind me.
God help me hold out! I don't want to turn back and lay a hand on her.
I hate her!