In Memoriam

A squealing wind was tearing russet or amber leaves off sighing branches and the heavens were crying over human beings. I was glad that the apocalypse stayed behind the windows and in the kitchen it was calm and pleasant. That day was to be special. My parents and grandparents were staying overnight in Kralupy nad Žitavou which is a picturesque small town that lies in Czech Republic but officially near the world’s end. It cost two days of reasonable argumentation to avoid a day of geriatric fun at my grandmother’s sister’s place but it finally worked out good. My brother vanished as soon as it was possible and the whole house had been for the first (and the last) time exclusively mine.

I was about to pour some hot water into a mug when I smiled and than took another mug from a drawer and put it on the table next to mine. It had been your favorite one, with ladybirds drawn on it. I did not wait long and a doorbell rang. I sprang into the rain barefooted, and called at you to come in. I closed the door and hugged your shoulders. You laughed and I laughed with you. Your hair was lustrous with millions of heaven’s tears and it clung in heavy strands to your back. Water was dipping from your nose and sleeves. I smiled again and gave you some dry clothes that I prepared beforehand. I do not believe that you ever used an umbrella.

It was a perfect evening. At once we caused terrible havoc to our kitchen, as we tried to prepare a marble cake, but we did not care much. We placed our masterpiece into the oven and than with pride did the dishes. After two hours of absorbing chit-chat we noticed some suspicious smoke coming from the kitchen but you just swept your hand, “Never mind that. It is just a bit tanned.” I glanced desperately at the cake pan. I tipped out something that was a marble cake’s very, very distant and charred cousin from the sixth generation. That evening my culinary ego suffered a severe damage, but I did not tell you that. Yes, it was just a bit tanned. My dog Astra did not complain, after all.

At nine the storm calmed down a bit. We did not even notice its ferocious power. The oncoming morning I marveled at our backyard cluttered up with devastated branches, torn leaves and one broken umbrella which origin had been unknown but that night were the howling wind and rain the last things that interrupted our thoughts.

Your cell phone rang. It was your mother calling you home. You did not live far from me. We were nearly neighbors, so you did not rush to leave. You stroked Astra once more and than took your jacket from the radiator. It was still wet. You looked at me apologetically and I nodded with smile. Of course you cold have borrowed my clothes.

You were leaving. As always, your lips shined with a warm smile. Your cheeks were throbbing with hot blood and eyes sparkled with stars. Oh God, and how sweet your voice was!
It was a perfect day. We sat, drank tea and ate our delicious marble cake. We talked about everything and we did not seem to notice that the Time was humming in millions of grains. We would rather laugh. Your laughter always got me. It spilled into the room like milk into the night sky. I never completely understood how you did that.

And now, you were leaving. Again. I do not know for how many times I was seeing you out. After so many years a person forgets the numbers. But I know that erst we hugged with hands smudged with sand and our t-shirts stained with watercolors were constantly driving our mothers crazy. We had been tykes in those times.

You gave me one last hug by our gate and than turned on your brand new discman. As you walked down the street you looked like a real young woman. And the Time was humming in millions of grains.

Next morning you did not come to the bus stop. I thought you were sick or something like that. After school I phoned you up. A voice of an adult woman answered.
I do not remember what then happened. I forgot to breathe, I guess.

Everyone was there. Parents, grandparents, our friends, neighbors and strangers that I have never seen before, they all blended in a black blur. And the sun was grinning like a Cheshire cat and one stray bird was trying to chirp while sitting on a bare branch.
The driver did not manage to brake while you were crossing the road. He called for help. He has two children. One was your age.

And the Time is still humming in millions of grains. We do not seem to notice that until it suddenly pauses.

Last autumn it had been three years since I saw you for the last time. Your parents moved short after the accident. I have not heard from them for a long time.
Human memories are strange. They enter the mind without knocking.