Never Again Maria

I first saw her on a lovely day in late spring 1997. She was nineteen, having just finished secondary school, and I was twenty-two, a second-year history student. The year, the people, the place – I knew plenty of details like that; it’s good to know them. But I realise I’m digressing. So, she was nineteen. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time, but what I did know – or rather, what I sensed – was that something inside me had changed.

It was as if, like a magnet, she drew to herself everything within me that could possibly be drawn to her. But, please, I’m talking about attention! I’m talking about how my thoughts seemed to melt away, and everything inside my chest was consumed in an instant. And in that moment, she remained the only living soul on the wide high street, which was actually teeming with people.

What did I do, then? I stuck to the magnet! I admit that’s a crude comparison for such a delicate creature, but she really did have the same properties! Unfortunately, like any magnet, she didn’t just attract one object. But more on that later. So, as I said, it was a lovely… no, a marvellous day. I loved that day. Later on, I would have hated it if I could, but since I can’t hate, I would have preferred it hadn’t happened at all, or that I’d have stayed at home.

The latter, however, is almost impossible on a day like this. But more on that later. And so, she was walking through the maze of people, with me a few steps behind her, my gaze fixed on her stunning figure. Her tall stature, broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs with clearly defined muscles – all of this is my answer to the question of what constitutes the ideal body. Her hair was short, but I couldn’t make out the colour. If I’d looked more closely, I’d certainly have noticed, but her perfect body kept my gaze fixed on her.

I walked along behind her like that, wishing she would turn round. That was when I realised I hadn’t even seen her face! No, I had seen it – there was a faint but distinct image of it in my mind. Or perhaps I’m mistaken… But in any case, I set off after her. And I walked on until, at one point, she vanished. Then I looked around – for the first time – and saw that she’d gone into some sort of shop; it looked to me like a perfume shop. Well, now I know it was a perfume shop, but at the time I simply didn’t care. I decided to wait and speak to her when she came out. I didn’t know what I’d say to her – it would probably have been silly, because I felt a bit daft – but I had to speak to her at all costs. So I stood there waiting for her, looking at the shop windows of the neighbouring shops, without really seeing any of what I was looking at.

After ten minutes had passed without her coming out, I began to wonder whether I’d missed her. But how could that be, when the shop window I was looking at clearly showed the entrance to the shop in question, from which she hadn’t come out; that was for sure! But when I say ‘doubt’, you know what I mean. And to put my mind at rest, I went over there and saw that she was still inside, talking to some girl. The thought of going in and speaking to her in front of the girl she was talking to was absurd. I did have that thought, mind you, but, as I said, it was absurd, so I dismissed it. After that, I carried on hanging about.

Ten minutes later, the other girl came out, but not her. What did that mean? Why is it that whenever we’re burning with impatience, we’re the ones who have to wait the longest?... This time I couldn’t stand it any longer and went inside. In an instant, however, something inside me changed again, because she turned out to be just two steps away from me, but on the other side of the counter. That’s when I realised – and anyone would have realised – that she worked there. The awkwardness of the moment also stemmed from the fact that she was looking at me, and I even got the impression that she sensed something. So I gave up on the idea of making a fool of myself and carrying on browsing; I turned to her and said:

- Good afternoon! How much does this perfume cost?

She didn’t even turn round to see exactly who I was referring to – and I didn’t know myself – and replied as follows:

- You haven’t been going round in circles for all this time just to ask me that, have you? Ask me something else!

The next question just came to me quite naturally:

- Will you marry me?

"Yes!" she replied straight away.

I smiled broadly and, just as I was about to laugh, I said:

- Your answer is very hasty.

And she replied:

- Isn’t that your question? We’ll talk about these things when we go out together. Next question?

- ‘Fancy going out together?’ I asked without thinking.

At this point, she pulled an astonished, questioning face and said, in a slightly drawn-out tone:

- If only you’d listened to me...

At that moment, something seemed to prick me, and I interrupted her:

- Sorry, but I’m finding it a bit hard to make sense of what you’re saying right now. Do you want to meet up today?

- In theory.

- What?

'It really is hard to make sense of it,' she said, and smiled.

- And you, I can see, are taking advantage of this. That’s why I’m going to look for someone to help me out in this situation.

Having said those words, which she was just about to start wondering about, I left the shop and went to the florist’s, which was also on the high street. I fancied a flower, bought a card to go with it, and after writing a message on it, I went back to her.

When she saw me coming in with the flower, she smiled and said:

- You’ve got a lovely assistant!

To which I said nothing; and after handing it to her and bowing like a gentleman, I went back outside. I must admit I really didn’t want to leave, but I felt so inadequate in my ability to speak that I was afraid I might make a fool of myself even more and thus ruin any chance I had with her. In my mind, I’d found a glimmer of comfort in the fact that I now knew where to find her, but I was really hoping to see her that very evening. I pinned my hopes on this and poured them into the little card I gave her along with the beautiful flower. It read as follows: “Anyone who looks at the sun will close their eyes. Anyone who steps into icy water will gasp for breath. That’s exactly how I feel – dazzled and stunned. So I’m asking you: give me a little time to pull myself together, and let’s meet tonight at eight, under the big clock. Now in theory, then for real!”

I won’t go into what thoughts and feelings had taken hold of me during those few hours leading up to eight o’clock, because I’d end up rambling off on a tangent, but broadly speaking, I was hoping that the note and the flower would have had enough of an effect to make her turn up at the agreed time. I say ‘the note and the flower’ because I didn’t exactly manage to shine.

At eight o’clock minus one minute, I was fifty metres from the clock. I love punctuality, as well as my ability to achieve it. In fact, I find it harder to be late than to arrive on time. As I got a little closer, two things surprised me greatly. The first was that, amongst the few people waiting there, there was a tall girl with short hair who – yes – was her. I liked the fact that she was punctual. But what I didn’t like, and which was my second surprise, was the exceptionally elegant way she was dressed. I was well dressed too, but nowhere near as smartly as she was, which didn’t suit a meeting like this at all. Or at least not the way I saw her – she was far from pretentious.

With these thoughts in my head, I found myself standing in front of her and, forgetting to smile and ignoring her smile, I said:

- Three things are bothering me. Firstly, you’re more precise than I am; secondly, you’re far better dressed than I am; and thirdly, if I’d known you’d look like this, I’d have dressed quite differently myself.

She didn’t hide her smile for a moment and replied:

- First of all, I’m no more punctual than you, because you arrived at eight on the dot. And since your other two concerns are linked, I’ll just say that they wouldn’t have arisen if you’d stayed so we could sort things out. But then again, you explain clearly why in your note. So, what shall we do?

- I don’t know about the rest of the evening, but I’ll tell you what we’re going to do now: we’ll take a taxi to our place or yours, and one of us will get changed.

- It’s up to you, she replied, I look fine!

She smiled again.

- Are you saying I look bad?

- No, I just said that I look good. I know that because I spent nearly an hour looking at myself in the mirror.

‘I’m flattered!’ I replied, pleased. ‘And besides, you’ve convinced me.’.

After that, we did indeed head back to my place, whilst she stayed in the taxi to wait for me. I didn’t invite her in because I was worried it might come across as forward. Once I’d got myself smartly dressed too, another question arose: where should we go? And since a low-key meet-up – the sort involving coffee and a drink – was out of the question, I decided to take her out for dinner at a nice restaurant. Admittedly, it was still a bit early for such a dinner, but events sometimes get ahead of those who plan them.

* * *

At the door of the restaurant in the four-star hotel, we were greeted by a perfectly shaven, smiling man in a cherry-red uniform. He politely invited us to follow him and led us to a neatly laid table for two. Once we had settled in, almost immediately, our waiter arrived – also impeccably shaven and in a black suit – and I ordered some wine from him. I got the impression that it had already been waiting on the shelf, because it was brought out astonishingly quickly and served with particular finesse and practised skill. The waiter then left us, and we turned our attention to one another.

Personally, it’s not that I didn’t settle in straight away, but I had absolutely no idea that the evening would take such a turn.

- I had absolutely no idea the evening would turn out like this,’ I began.

'Are you complaining?' she asked jokingly.

- ‘No, please, how?’ I exclaimed, feigning indignation, with a gesture meant to show that this was impossible, given that I was with her.

- Should I feel flattered?

- ‘Can I control your feelings?’ I replied to her question with a question of my own, and then changed the subject: ‘Tell me, is there a particular way you’d like me to address you, or will you tell me your name?’

Strange as it may seem, neither of them had asked the other for their name up to that point.

- ‘My name is Maria,’ she said, before adding, with a hint of annoyance but also a touch of irony: ‘But everyone calls me… Maria.’.

- ‘What awful people,’ I said sympathetically.

She smiled.

- You’re easy to talk to! Most people don’t get my sense of humour, she said, and after a few seconds’ silence she asked: - Do you have a name, by the way?

- Martin,’ I replied.

- ‘We’re both M,’ she summed up. ‘M and M, like the sweets.’.

- Or *The Master and Margarita* – a great book.

- Or like a martini with an olive – a brilliant combination.

- Are you the little olive?

- Shut up!

We both laughed heartily. After that bit of humour, however, there was a brief silence. It wasn’t that we had nothing to say to each other, but simply that we weren’t speaking for a moment – the sort of silence that helps one savour a particular moment. And since I’d already given my wit a rest, I decided to indulge in some analysis.

My gaze fell on her face. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but it was her charm that really stood out – at least in my eyes. Because she didn’t have the features that made up my idea of a beautiful woman’s face – full lips and blue eyes. I’m not saying her lips were thin, but they weren’t my ideal. And yet her mouth looked delicate and alluring. As for her eyes – I’ve always liked blue eyes. But to this day, I’ve never had a girl with blue eyes, whether as a girlfriend or for a brief fling. The last girl who was close to my heart had very light, brown, almost yellow eyes – like a lion cub’s – and she was a one-of-a-kind doll in her own right, but, as I said, they weren’t blue.

The girl opposite me didn’t have her beauty. But she had her own. She didn’t have her eyes either, nor were they blue, but her dark, brown eyes were part of all that charm I’m talking about. In fact, she had the perfect face for her appearance. And the perfect hair, too. And that was the other main thing that didn’t quite match my tastes. I like, and have always liked, long hair. But hers was short. Though when I say short, don’t get the wrong idea… short! It reached down to her chin, and the colour was brown, with a reddish tinge that I found inexplicable, which she later explained was natural.

My analysis was interrupted by the waiter, who returned and asked if we’d like to have dinner. As we did, he made a few very good suggestions, two of which we settled on. He then left us again, and we continued our conversation, but on a different topic. Before long, we moved on to a new topic, and a little later to another, yet the conversation never for a moment lost its charm and ease. I was impressed by her, by her way with words, her sense of humour, her wide-ranging interests and her extensive knowledge.

It was all very lovely, and I’ll say it again: I was impressed. But what began to interest me after a while was what lay behind it all? What sort of person is Maria? Is her soul as broad as her knowledge, or is there no connection between the two? Could the many facets of her character and her high level of culture be explained by the resourcefulness of her mind, the potential of which she used solely to achieve her own goals? Because a girl like her, with an appearance like hers, could achieve a great deal with minimal effort. Any intelligent person would have realised that she was clever, but what fascinated me was her character, the disposition of that invisible thing called the soul. And I said ‘any intelligent person’ because, to judge whether someone is clever, you have to be clever yourself.

- ‘Don’t try to get to know me!’ she said unexpectedly, as if she’d seen that look of mine

effort.

- Am I going to find something bad?

- I don’t know what you mean by ‘bad’, but there’s no need to do that, because it’s very likely we won’t see each other again.

I smiled sadly and said:

- And I thought we got on well.

- Maybe that’s exactly why! - she surprised me, and added: - Besides, I said it was very likely, not that we wouldn’t see each other.

That reassured me a little. However, the very fact that I felt relieved showed me that, to some extent, her previous reply had unsettled me, which in turn suggested that I already felt something special towards her.

* * *

We left the restaurant at about eleven o’clock, both of us laughing about something, though I can’t remember what it was now. I do remember, however, how she put her arms around my shoulders and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Thank you for a lovely evening!" she said.

'Do you want to leave?' I asked, and was surprised that I’d even asked such a question.

- To be honest, I both want to go home and don’t want to go home, she replied vaguely.

- This is how I understand it: you don’t fancy going home, but you don’t fancy going to another bar either

Go ahead, as this leaves only one option – here at home!

She smiled.

- They must be teaching you something at university! But no, we won’t be coming round to your place. What shall we do?

there?

- There’s no way we’re going! Leave it to me! – I said, and hailed one of the taxis parked nearby. – And as for what we’re going to do – would it really have been any fun for you if you’d known in advance what was going to happen up to this point?

She smiled again, hesitated for a moment, and got into the taxi that had pulled up beside us, the door of which I had already opened. In the taxi, I started pretending to be distracted and thinking out loud about things that didn’t interest me at all:

- Is there any coffee at home? I’m sure I bought some soft drinks today...

- ‘How much does this perfume cost…’ – she cut me off, perfectly and right on the mark.

It was a brilliant line, and I was overcome by such a fit of laughter that, had I let myself go, I’d probably have startled the driver – and her, too. I managed, however, to laugh discreetly. She laughed as well.

A few minutes later we were at the entrance to the block where I live, and a few minutes after that – in my flat. That’s when all sorts of thoughts began to cross my mind, thoughts that brought nothing but uncertainty. I wondered whether I was the reason she was here, or whether for her this was simply the usual way to round off an evening like this. And a whole host of other thoughts, but broadly speaking they all boiled down to that one. They all vanished, however, when Maria walked into my room. As she began to wander slowly around the room, curiously examining my belongings, carefully picking up and putting down one thing after another.

A wave of excitement surged through my body. I didn’t say a word – there was nothing to say. And if I had said anything, it would surely have been even more foolish than anything foolish I’d ever said up to that point. Without a word, without any explanation, I walked over to her, took her hand – which had just been holding some trinket – and kissed it. Without waiting for a reaction from her, without even looking her in the eyes, I moved towards her seductive lips and kissed them too. Then I looked into her eyes. Fortunately, I saw nothing in them of what I’d feared I might see. Quite the opposite – I saw desire. And in the very next moment, I felt it myself. And with such intensity that I felt like a victim: in an instant I found myself lying on my back on the bed, with her on top of me, energetically stripping off something from herself and from me. Suddenly she stood up, went over to the lamp, switched it off, and came back to me. I couldn’t see her any more. From that moment on, it was all about sensation. But that was enough! I could smell the scent of her soft skin, feel the warmth of her body, the kisses from her lips, the arousal from the touch of her breasts, their taste… it was incredible!

It was incredible, yes, but I can’t say any more about it. My aim was to tell you the story, not to describe everything that happened during those days. But I had to focus on these few moments so that I could at least partly introduce you to my world back then and help you understand what she meant to me. And if any further explanation is needed, here it is: she was the girl I’d always wanted by my side, the one who complemented me in every single way, the girl with whom every single minute was a delight. And, of course, I’m not saying this based solely on the evening I’ve just described; I’m also talking about the days and months to come.

They say people get tired of each other. I don’t know who said that or what period they were referring to, but I haven’t got tired of her at all! We’d been together for just over a year, but I was ready for another fifty-one. She rang me the very next day, and every day since! Whether we saw each other or not, she’d still ring. And every time, her voice was clear and gentle. And every time I heard it, I’d close my eyes and savour it, often pressing my lips lightly against the receiver and kissing her in my thoughts. No one had ever managed to make me feel like that before – loved, desired… alive! I felt as though there was nothing I couldn’t do, as long as she was by my side. Together we did all sorts of things – we went for walks in the mountains and on holiday by the sea – if you could call it a holiday. We loved being both amongst people and on our own. Back then, we’d watch telly, mess about, tease each other and all sorts of other things. It was fun. I loved her! I still love her! I was happy, but I’m not anymore!

My happiness came to an end shortly after we’d celebrated our first year together. It was summer again. I’d recently turned twenty-three, and she’d long since turned twenty. My first suspicions that something was wrong were based on the fact that, during our last few meetings, she’d been somewhat gloomy, distracted and indifferent to everything. But I’m not the sort of person who, in such situations, would say: ”Darling, what’s the matter? Why are you acting like this… is it my fault?” No! When someone’s feeling down, they’re just feeling down! I’ve had days like that myself – days when I don’t want to see anyone; days when everything gets on my nerves. And if, at a time like that, someone tries to cheer me up, especially with words, it’ll only make things worse. That’s why I didn’t say a word. Somehow, deep down, I sensed it wasn’t just a matter of mood, but I still didn’t mention a thing.

One day the following week – I can’t remember which one now – I had to cover for her in the shop for a little while. Just then, one of the many customers came in looking rather strange. He came in, turned his back to me and, staring at the ceiling, slowly made his way towards me. I thought to myself: there’s something wrong with him! The next moment, however, a new thought crossed my mind and made my heart sink. And how I hate being right sometimes! He turned round suddenly, with a smile from ear to ear and the look of someone who thinks his appearance is the biggest surprise in the world. What made the biggest impression on me, though, was the bouquet in his hand.

Turning round, he said cheerfully:

- The loveliest flowers, for the loveliest...

- ‘Hey, lad…!’ I finished his thought. ‘Thanks, but we don’t even know each other!’ I added, feigning surprise.

He made an effort to look serious and said:

- Sorry, mate, but I’m not one of your lot!

- Are you a vegetarian, really?! I just don’t get you! - I continued in the same vein.

- Mate, don’t play the victim, or you’ll end up getting hurt!

I tell you, when he said that, the thought of bottling him up in a little perfume bottle seemed so tempting that only God knows what stopped me from doing it. And surely only He knows how I managed to keep my composure and calmly said:

- But, please, what on earth are these things? – and then, calmly again: - Can I help you with anything?

At that moment, the Almighty must have helped him too, because he replied to me in the most matter-of-fact tone:

- I'm looking for a girl called Maria. She works here.

It felt as if a knife had pierced my heart when I heard her name. But that proved one thing – there was no mistake!

It’s a wonder how I managed to keep my wits about me even then, and I said the following:

- She’s not at work today. She was supposed to be, but they’ve changed the rota. I’m here at the moment. But if you’d like, I can pass these flowers on to her.

- ‘No, that won’t work,’ he said, looking worried.

- Oh, there certainly will be!

Then he said something, but I didn’t hear it. Because at that very moment, my peripheral vision

My eyes caught sight of something very interesting: a girl with an athletic build and short hair came into the shop; as soon as she entered, for some unknown reason, she suddenly turned round and rushed straight out, even covering her face with her hand. He didn’t see that, but I did. He didn’t know who I was, but I already knew who he was. And there are no words to describe how I felt at that moment. But even if I did find such words, it wouldn’t make me feel any better. Besides, I’m sure many of you know the feeling I’m talking about. Deceived, betrayed, on the verge of a mental breakdown, I stood there for who knows how long, seeing and hearing nothing. I don’t know when he left, nor whether anyone asked me anything after he’d gone.

Suddenly, my gaze found itself fixed on something in front of me. It was a girl – it was Maria! And from the way I was staring at her without realising it, she realised that I’d recognised her. I heard her say she wanted to talk. I replied that I couldn’t talk. She tried to explain something to me, but I didn’t want to listen. And why should I? I knew what she was going to say. It would probably have been a short story, the most important part of which I already knew. It would have been a story about one of the many visitors who’d turned up one day and made a strong impression on her – she might have told me what it was, or she might have left that out. But this person had intrigued her. ”Goodness, there’s something different about him!” – she must have said to herself, without even realising that there is something interesting and different about every person. The next step – ambition. He had to be jotted down in her little notebook, under the heading “mine”. And he was already there! His smarmy face, his bleating little voice, his neatly combed ponytail, his smart clothes, the little flowers in his hand – all of it showed diligence and subservience. How I hate you, you slimy reptiles!

But, no, please forgive me for being so extreme – there are all sorts of people! Some people just see things that way. I’m not talking about them; I’m talking about her. How could she do that, after everything I gave her?... But of course, someone else could give it to her too – there’s always someone! But the point is, when you find what you’re looking for, you have to hold on to it. Because if you carry on looking, you’ll find it again, and then again, and again, and again. But for how long? And I remember how she told me time and again that I was the one she’d always been looking for; and there were days when she proved it to me.

But then something else happened. And when it did, lots of people told me they’d warned me. That they’d noticed her excessive sociability and free-spirited behaviour, and they hadn’t liked it one bit. I replied that the more people one interacts with, the better one will know what one wants for oneself. Much better than if one were withdrawn and unsociable. Of course, that answer was one side of the coin. But there was another side – one I didn’t mention, but knew existed. The side where the girl, surrounded by a great deal of attention and a host of admirers, says: “I can have you all and do whatever I please with you!”... Those thoughts give you wings, don’t they? Grandeur! Yes, but for how long?... We all know that the ugly duckling turns into a beautiful swan. But life knows that one day it will be nothing more than an old duck – or, come on, a swan! And that’s the end of the grandeur! Then all that remains is the memory of it. And how sad it is when there’s no one to share it with!

I didn’t ring her again. But every time I looked at my phone, I was overcome by the urge to do so. And every time it rang, I thought it was her. Which actually happened the very next day – out of habit, or perhaps out of some sense of obligation. Then she tried to tell me what had happened and how, and her story was, broadly speaking, just as I’d anticipated. And then – that was it – I didn’t even see her again. She probably saw me quite often, because, come what may, I couldn’t just stay at home and was often out on the high street. And in spring, it really is worth being out there. Having a coffee in the afternoon, amongst all those people… it really is worth it! But whenever I walked past the shop where she worked, I’d always turn away and look somewhere else. I was afraid of the effect her sight would have on me, which was always the same – from the first day I saw her to the last day we parted. Throughout that time, I’d always been happy simply because I was with her and she was with me. But now it wasn’t like that, and the sight of her would only cause me pain.

How fragile human happiness is, isn’t it? How easily it can turn into misery! And how should we view the causes of the latter? Yes, that question, too, had occupied my mind more than once whilst I was reflecting on what had happened. And I did think about it a great deal. What infuriated me most was that he wouldn’t even stay with her for a month. Because a servant never stays with his master for more than a few minutes – never! And in this case, the whole role of this lackey was to ruin my happiness and give her free rein. And when it was all over, he would simply walk into the next shop, without even realising what he’d discovered in the first one.

So, I was afraid of meeting her, but I didn’t want to see him either! Not for any other reason, but simply because I didn’t know how I would react. But there are things in life that you simply can’t avoid, and on a sunny autumn day I saw him. And under very strange circumstances. I say strange because it didn’t happen on the high street, nor in a nightclub or bar where one might meet more people, but in one of the little side streets off that very same high street, which is always packed with people on sunny days. He was walking straight towards me, with the gait of a man who was extremely pleased with himself, though he wasn’t nearly as smartly dressed as the last time. The moment I saw him, my heart started racing, my blood boiled, and my thoughts were racing through my head so fast that I couldn’t catch a single one. I made a superhuman effort and stepped slightly to one side so that we could pass each other at a distance. Right, but from that very distance, he – clearly already knowing who I was – threw a question my way along the lines of: ”How’s Maria?”... And at that moment, the chaos vanished! At that moment, I asked God to look the other way, walked over to the self-obsessed lad and simply beat him up!

A few minutes later, I was on the verge of feeling bad, but I decided to replace that feeling with a sense of satisfaction. It was easy! But don’t get me wrong – I’m not proud of what I did and I would never have chosen that course of action, but at that moment something inside me snapped. Everyone snaps at some point. And since that isn’t a universal truth, I’ll put it another way: everyone has their own breaking point which, once reached, changes them in an instant. But when I say ‘changes’, I don’t mean forever! I, for example, was the same again the very next day, and everything around me was just as it had been – lectures, tutorials, meeting up with friends – just as before. With the one difference that something had happened before that was no longer there. Maria was gone. And I missed her so much!

I tried to forget her, of course, and the many people I met, consciously and unconsciously, helped me to do so. But it didn’t work. Then I decided to hate her, but I soon realised I couldn’t hate her. Least of all her! And why, really – because she showed me everything I want in a girl? It was this last thought that I clung to tightly. It gave me new hope. Hope that I now know what I’m looking for and just need to find it again. And that’s exactly what I did – from that day on, within the space of a month, I went out with three different girls in quick succession, each with a single task: to banish Maria from my thoughts. However, this simple task proved so difficult for them that I fell ill with disappointment. All the more so because these weren’t just girls who’d happened to cross my path, but ones I genuinely liked. I’d had a crush on one of them for ages – so much so that I hadn’t found the courage to talk to her. Now, however, my heartache gave me that courage and I did introduce myself. I went out with her for a few days and, if I’m honest, she was an extremely pleasant and sweet girl, but… she wasn’t Maria!

The conviction was firmly rooted in my mind that she, Maria, was the only one for me in this world, and with that truth I would go to bed at night and wake up in the morning. That meant only one thing – I had to win her back! But what was I to do – go and beg her? Fall to my knees before her? If that would win her back, fine, but I knew her well enough to realise that doing something like that would mean losing her for several lifetimes to come. She didn’t like weakness. But what does ‘she’ matter? I wouldn’t accept a girl who tried to win me over with pleas either. Because love isn’t begged for, it isn’t spoken of – it’s earned and proven!

And so that idea quickly slipped my mind. But I didn’t have another one! Not one that was good enough, at least. Not one that I felt would help me. On several occasions I’d decided to pop into the shop, clinging to the hope that something would inevitably pop into my head just then, but the memory of what had occurred to me the first time put me off. Of course, I also thought of that magical combination – a card and a flower – which had brought her to the meeting, but you can’t use the same thing twice. Well, that rule probably has its exceptions, but something told me that my case wouldn’t be one of them. So what then? The answer will surprise you – nothing! I carried on going to bed and getting up thinking of her, but I didn’t do anything about it. The only thing I did in my mental impasse was to actually pop into the shop once, but she wasn’t there. And perhaps it was better that way – at least that, I remember, calmed me down. And after that, nothing again! And time went by. Winter came – cold and hectic. Busy, because on the one hand there were all her holidays, and on the other – the winter exam period. And cold, because that was her fate.

The hustle and bustle of the festive season and my commitment to the long exam period managed to swallow me up and somehow took my mind off Maria. More and more often, I went to bed and woke up with thoughts other than those of her. And it couldn’t have been any other way – the exam period takes up a large part of the mind of anyone in the midst of it. And when it was over and my thoughts were once again free to turn to Maria, I was surprised to find that very few of them did so. And those few that did no longer had the devastating effect they’d had before. That was when I realised what had happened – time had imperceptibly fulfilled the three girls’ task and made my efforts a reality – Maria was gone! No, not completely, of course. She was still here – in my heart, in my thoughts, in my memories – but she was now Maria, and not… Maria!!!

Winter passed, and spring followed, which helped me to feel my inner freedom even more keenly. And I was truly free! My life, no longer weighed down by anything, had returned to its normal rhythm, whilst nature followed its own natural course. The weather turned lovely, the streets filled with people, and the high street once again became a wonderful place for a stroll and a coffee. And there we were – me and my friends. We spent even more time there than we did at lectures.

All this went on until one fine day that very spring of 1999, when the doorbell rang at my flat. At the time, I was lazing about on the bed, listening to music. I got up, not particularly keen to do so, and headed for the door without even looking through the peephole. When I opened the door, I saw a girl standing there in a fresh spring outfit, with shoulder-length brownish-red hair. My heart leapt at that moment, and an unforgettable memory came flooding back – the very reason for which she was standing there before me. I cannot describe the effort it took me to compose myself and keep my gaze steady, but I must have succeeded, because after she gave me a probing look, she said:

- ‘You’ve forgotten me’ – those were her first words. ‘And how did you manage that?’

- Time has helped me, Maria... time. It seems someone does love me after all.

She smiled somewhat sadly and asked:

- Do you want me to leave?

At that moment, right at that moment, a single answer sprang spontaneously from my wounded heart, but it got stuck somewhere in my chest and another one came out instead:

‘Is that why you came?’ I asked, and immediately sensed that those words of mine were the turning point. I didn’t know what they marked, but that’s how I felt.

She came in, I made some coffee, and then we talked – for ages. And, my goodness, how I’d missed her!

That’s what I was thinking as I looked at her, barely managing to hide my excitement at having her by my side again. She spoke calmly and cheerfully, as if we’d been together only yesterday, when in fact a whole year had passed. And when I thought about it a little more, I shuddered – it was on this very day that I’d first laid eyes on her! She carried on talking and looking at me with a gaze that revealed something different. I saw a determination that seemed to say: ”Take me now, and I’ll be with you forever!”

* * *

That was yesterday. And today, after a restless night, kept awake constantly by the turmoil in my mind, I still can’t decide what to do. What am I to do with you, Maria? Why did you come back? To break my heart all over again? Do you really think I’ll let that happen?

During the long hours of the night, just as during the day, the battle between reason and emotion raged in full force. Reason was almost screaming: ”Where are you going! Haven’t you suffered enough pain? And are you so blind that you cannot see that she is the cause of it? She’s pretty, you say, and fun – yes, but is that anything new? She was like that before, too. And won’t you find another pretty girl? Won’t another one love you? You’ve already had someone more beautiful; why do you think you won’t have one again? And I’ll let you in on another secret: one of those three girls – yes, that very one – was so much more than your Maria, but you simply didn’t want to see it!... Listen to me, this Maria will set your house on fire just to see that handsome fireman again, the one she met the day before! You don’t need her, believe me! And another thing – why didn’t she ring you for a whole year? Where was she when every fibre of your being was yearning for her? I’ll do you a favour and won’t tell you where. But today she suddenly turns up and says you’re the one she wants! Didn’t she say that before? Come on, show her the way out and let her go… far away from you!”

Then your feelings spoke up, quietly and calmly: ”He’s right, you know! And if you want to listen to him, you’ve every reason to. Because, yes, nothing is certain if you take her back now. And, yes, Maria isn’t the only one for you in this world, just as you aren’t the only one for her. But, look, now she’s saying she wants you to be. True, she’s said it before, but… it’s as if there was something different in her voice now! Or, you say: it doesn’t matter, she left me and who knows who she’s been with! That’s true. But wasn’t it you who used to say that the more people you know, the better you’ll know who you want for yourself? Don’t you think that way anymore? Oh, I see – you want to stay true to your pride. Fine! But then why didn’t you send her away when she opened the door? Why did you replace the sensible answer with another, why?... Because there’s something different about Maria, isn’t there? Something no one else has ever been able to give you! Come on, walk away from her – there’s just one step left to take. Just one! Say goodbye to her – and that’s it! But it’s hard, isn’t it – now that you know she could be yours again? That Maria could be yours! You decide!”

It’s not easy, is it? But sometimes, the more complicated it is, the more interesting it is. And what interests me most is this: what would you do if you were in my shoes? Yes, you, who’re smiling right now and perhaps wondering: ‘Me?’ Yes, you, exactly! What? Are you saying this couldn’t happen to me? Oh, it can, my friend, it can! The scenario would be different, of course, just as the faces and names would be different, but the effect would be the same on your secure and peaceful soul. Something like this comes more unexpectedly than a bolt of lightning on a sunny day, and it shakes you so much that you forget where you are and why you came!

What matters, in my view, however, is who we choose to listen to. Reason? Why not – it is so genuinely concerned for us! Reason, which relies on facts that, like a huge poster, hang on the wall of the past and show us what once was – every time we look back. As for feelings – no one can explain them. Where do they come from, where do they go… why? But perhaps that is their greatest gift – that they can go where reason cannot, and return refreshed, pure… new! The greatest magic in this world, called love, belongs to them too. You can’t really think that you love, can you? You can only feel it. And tell me that these weren’t the sweetest moments of your life! When you wake up in the morning and, regardless of whether the day is lovely or not, you already love it, because she’s by your side! And when you’re in love, the world becomes so small, so small, that it shrinks to fit entirely within her. She becomes its symbol, its essence and its meaning. Then the world is yours!

But what I am talking about cannot be rationalised or understood. It is not a paragraph, a sub-paragraph or a theorem – it is magic! And when the day comes when you no longer believe in this magic, know that you have become rational! Then, when the sorceress disappears – you are free! But what use is this freedom to me, when there will be no warmth? What will keep me warm – thought? Does that mean that the thought of fire is the same as fire itself? How I cannot agree with that!

But forgive me for letting my thoughts wander so far. And please don’t think, my friend, that I’m trying to impose an answer on you. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, just as I am to mine. And so, in just a few hours’ time, I’ve got a date with her – Maria! And I’m thinking of going. Did I consider not going? Oh, yes, but… what would I gain from that? In fact, the only thing that occurred to me was what I would lose. What will happen when I go? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m still writing, and the clock has struck the next hour.

Yeah… time doesn’t stop for anyone – and it waits for no one. And we can neither stop it, nor turn it back, nor speed it up, nor change anything, whether in the past or the future. All we can do is hold on to the hope that what we’re doing today will turn out to be good for our future. But here I go, getting carried away again, and I’ve run out of time for that.

And so, in just a moment I shall get dressed and set off towards my freedom. For to me, freedom is happiness, which is unthinkable and incomplete without love. I love Maria and have always loved her – with all my heart and soul. They are my very nature, and to go against them would be like going against myself. And that, now, would be sheer folly. But enough of that!

My story about those unforgettable days gone by has come to an end! As for the future, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you about it – nobody can! Because that’s just what the future is like – unclear and mysterious, but, hey… that’s the best bit about it!