As they all sat to table, they pretended to eat like high-class society people speaking on social themes, weather and so on. They praised Tanya’s culinary masterpiece. But their performance didn’t last long, as they switched to reminiscing funny stories from their school times and forgetting about the knives and waving their forks in agitated recollections.
Perhaps all of them would remember Filip’s hilarious but remorseful story of catching a guy from a lower grade and sliding a mop along both of his sleeves so he was not able to put down his arms, but was to walk like the red, little traffic light man, the symbol of Berlin, with his arms outstretched. The other would remember the taste of the red wine and funk music playing in the background with sudden beeping sounds coming from the cars below. Perhaps Tanya would remember multiple city roofs and the night sky. Katya – Filip’s smile and the fresh summer night air. Or maybe they would remember even all of it?
How could Yulya be moody at such a pleasant night? No one noticed when her mood had changed. She kept herself quiet staring nowhere in particular; a melancholic air was readable on her freckled face.
‘I’m going home. Thanks for the eve, Fil. I’ll see you tomorrow, girls,’ Red-haired reported and took her dirty plate to the kitchen’s sink.
‘Why so early? Stay! We’ll sleep here, no need to go home!’ Filip had to yell to Yulya’s back.
‘Leave her, Fil. I know this girl. If Yulya wants to be alone, let it be so,’ warned him Katya.
When Yulya left, Filip brought out some bright rug and placed it on the wooden floor and lay atop. The girls understood it as a welcoming gesture. In an instant three weirdos lay on a small rug on the roof watching stars, if any could be seen from a big city lit with hundreds of lights.
Before leaving Yulya thought she would want to return in the morning and be a lovely surprise to everyone bringing something to eat for breakfast. So she left the door slightly open by leaving Katya’s flat-shoe in the doorway, so the door wouldn’t lock.
On stepping outside Red-haired dived into the street world. Brightly lit pictures everywhere. Sparkling windows. People in cafes and bars gulping their beers. The city noise was like an orchestra as if rehearsing before a performance tuning their instruments – clinking of glasses, the buzz of jolly chatting and whistling of the passing cars. Yulya could make out a mixture of different smell – perfume, pizza, drinks and exhaust fumes.
‘Excuse me,’ a young chap sitting on a cafe terrace with some friends adressed Yulya loudly, ‘can I take a picture of you? You don’t see high-heeled girls around.’
‘Go ahead,’ Red-haired responded and stroke a pose, ‘I’m from Moscow.’
As the chap got up to take a picture he spoke again, ‘I’ll show the pic to my girlfriend to let her know what drives me on.’ He took a shot and said, ‘Thanks. Have a good evening!’
‘Oh, bear in mind high-heels aren’t very comfortable,’ commented Yulya.
‘How do you wear them then?’ he wondered.
‘I’m used to them. I guess, I’ve been wearing heels since fourteen. I didn’t like being short, so the heels helped me out. You too, have a good evening!’ Red-haired answered with a pleasant smile and walked on.
She smiled melancholically to herself remembering how she used to change heels for her trainers after school to go for a walk with her ex. With thoughts of her ex-boyfriend she came home to wash off the day that was coming to an end and go to bed.
In bed. Lights still on. Again Yulya thought of Dima, her first and only boyfriend. Was she just missing him? Or was she just feeling lonely and wanted to cuddle up against any male flesh? Suddenly Red-haired felt irritation arisen towards him. Irritation that, even though it was SHE who had broken up with him, he wasn’t with her now. Irritation that he hadn’t written her or called her, even though she’d told him not to bother her for some time. Irritation that he hadn’t come up with some strategy to win her back, even though she told him their relationship wasn’t going anywhere but standing on one and the same spot. By realizing her irritation she finally shaped her conclusion into a clear thought and turned off the light, ‘If he doesn’t need me anymore, then this is the end of our story. Good riddance. I’m officially free then.’
Meanwhile Mr. Curly Hair and the two Russian girlies decided to turn in. Three of them perfectly fit in Filip’s Mum’s bed yawning and telling night-night to each other. Filip in the middle of the two Russians. What a lucky man he was, wasn’t he? Dilemma for him? He was magnetized to Katya, but he couldn’t make out her real feelings towards him. There was some invisible obstacle between them. At the same time, like any man he was attracted to Tanya’s curves. While Filip brooded on his dilemma, Tanya was already asleep as her quiet snoring was filling the room.
Meanwhile some other thoughts whirled in Katya’s head, ‘Damn, I can’t bring myself to embrace him or just take his hand. Stupid, stupid me…’ She struggled for a moment and miraculously simultaneously their sweaty hands magnetized to each other with great tension. Fingers between fingers. Heat was rising up between their hands, but stupidly enough they never dared go further than that. What unhealthy suppression of emotions, wasn’t it?
In the morning the newly-made trio was awakened by some noise from the kitchen.
‘Is your Mum back?’ whispered Tanya to Filip as she saw him open his eyes.
‘No, can’t be,’ reassured her Fil and got out of bed to see what was going on.
‘Morning!’ said Yulya joyfully, ‘I brought some sandwiches and coffee for us. Where are the girls? I hope you’re not a maniac and they are alive.’
‘Mhm, looks great,’ said Filip ignoring the question about the girls and sat to table, ‘No need to wake up the girls. I might want another helping of this yumminess.’
‘Heeeeeeey, you,’ came the loud protest from behind. Tanya rubbed her eyes and joined in munching, ‘I’m hungry too, no helpings for you today, man!’
Overhearing the kitchen talk Katya had a resilience to get up as she didn’t want to face Filip. She didn’t understand him and herself as well. Why wasn’t any of them making the first step? But she made herself get up, head to the washroom first and finally join in in the breakfast.
The funny thing was Filip hardly dared to look at Katya either. And both put on the I-am-so-important mask. And when their eyes occasionally met, the wooden look covered their eyes and the WhatevEERR glance was on.
chapter 6
Did Sven feel a little sad of having missed the terrace dinner? He was on holidays and all his other friends were working, only Filip and the Russian trio were not. So why be bored? He thought of getting everyone together over his home-made Eintopf at his place. The ladies were to learn that Eintopf was a German dish that combined the first and second courses, basically, a soup with lots of different vegetables and meat, but thicker. It could well be called a stew as well.
Just before the Eintopf party the trio were getting themselves ready to the music channel the TV was tuned in. Tanya was feeling energized from inside. In a little more than a week she would have her periods. She was in a hyper mood, but in the mood of sex-hungry lassie. She knew the feeling but she couldn’t do anything about it at the moment so she nudged Blondie instead, ‘Hey, Katushka, when on earth will you or Fil make the first step? You know the time is racing, we’re leaving soon.’
‘Whenever I feel like doing it… Another half of the question I guess wasn’t addressed to me,’ Katya snapped back.
‘We know why you are waiting, but what’s holding him, I’m in doubt,’