That was us

He hurried past the full bars and restaurants on the main streets of Trastevere, clutching the paper bag tightly. A car swerved past, just about avoiding hitting him. The driver honked. He did not care, and ducked into the side street.

He finally came to the house he was looking for. Number 28. Two girls in summer dresses were standing outside the door, having a smoke while holding a glass of wine in the other hand.

“Buona sera,” he said.

“Sera,” they replied.

He pressed on the doorbell.

“Hallo?” came her familiar voice, somewhat distorted over the loudspeaker, but nevertheless clearly hers.

“It’s me.”

“Come in. Third floor, if you still remember.”

A buzz signaled the unlocking of the door, and he pushed it open, nodding to the two girls as he entered.

Of course he remembered that it was the third floor, the apartment on the left. How could he forget?

She was standing at her opened door, her head resting against the doorway. She was sporting a bob now instead of the long tresses from two years ago. But her smile when she saw him appear at the stairs was the same Chiara smile that he knew.

“Come stai?” she asked.

“Bene. E tu?” he came to her.

“Bene.”

They hesitated, laughed, and embraced.

“Come on in,” she beckoned.

“Sorry to have come at such short notice… but I was busy with work till tonight. To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting you to be free, let alone at home on a Friday night…”

The truth was that he had deliberated and hesitated before calling. Not just because he was afraid she wouldn’t have time, but also because he was afraid that she would have changed her number…without informing him. They have had so little to do with one another in the past two years that he was afraid he had ceased to exist in her life.

“Staying at home with a nice bottle of wine is nice too,” she said, without turning back.

“Alone?”

She shrugged, “Well, you are here now, so I don’t have to drink alone. But being alone is nice sometimes too.”

He surveyed the apartment. “Everything looks pretty much the same…”

His eyes fell on the side table. The photograph of the two of them on Castello Sant’Angelo with the setting sun over Rome as the backdrop was gone.

“Why should anything change?” she asked, turning around. “So are you going to drink with me? What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh,” he remembered the paper bag he was clutching. “Mochi cream.”

“What’s that?”

“A Japanese confection. Mochi filled with ice cream. I saw the shop on Via Nazionale, and remembered I had it in Kobe, and it was delicious. So I decided to get it. Can’t show up here empty-handed, right?”

“No, you can’t,” she laughed. “Some wine? We can have the, what do you call it? Mochi cream? We can have that after the wine.”

“Sure. What do you have?”

“A Chiaretto.”

“Chiaretto? Chiara e Chiaretto,” he laughed.

“What? Even after two years, you are still stuck on that joke.”

“Sorry. The wine just suits you somehow, no? If someone were to ask me what kind of wine would Chiara be, I would have answered Chiaretto.”

“Why?”

He shrugged and smiled. “Somehow? But it’s a good comparison. I love a good Chiaretto.”

“Well, you loved me,” she said, handing him a glass.

“Thanks,” he said. “Cin cin.”

“Cin cin,” she touched her glass against his.

“There were two girls outside the door, with wine and cigarettes. So much like you.”
She laughed, “Except that I have quitted smoking.”

“What?”

“Why are you so agitated?”

“Well, I tried so hard to make you quit. And now you tell me you quitted, just like that,” he glared at her.

And they both laughed.

“Those were the days, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“So, what brings you back to Rome?”

“Work. They are letting me handle the partners in Italy, because of my Italian.”

“So finally you have some use for it again.”

“Yeah.”

“So you said you are leaving tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fast.”

“Pity, huh?”

She nodded, sipping her wine. “So…Are you still fighting alone?”

“Unfortunately, yes… I was seeing someone, but it didn’t quite work out…”

“Was she Italian?”

“Why must she be Italian?”

“Well, remember the first time we met, I was asking you why you were learning Italian, and you said-”

“Perché amo una donna italiana.”

She laughed. “Esatto. So was she Italian? Or have you sworn off Italian women because of me?”

He laughed, but answered with a question, “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

She shook her head. “No. Nothing serious in these 2 years. I was focussing on work…and I picked up cooking.”

“Really? I am so proud of you! You couldn’t cook at all.”

“Well, the next time you come to Rome, I will cook for you.”

“That’s what you say.”

“Of course. You know I always mean what I say. More wine?”

“Another glass. And then basta. I have a plane to catch in the morning.”

She refilled his glass, then hers.

“Are you still painting?”

She nodded. “But I am more into portraits now. The look in the eyes. It captivates me. I want to capture that gaze. The gaze tells a story.”

He smiled, “Have you done any self-portraits then?”

“No...”

“You should. I think it would be interesting. It would be beautiful.”

“Hauntingly beautiful?”

“Hauntingly beautiful.”

They laughed again.

“You know I love your eyes. I fell in love with your eyes.”

“And I fell in love with your mouth. What a glib tongue you have. Are you sure you are not Italian?” she laughed.

“Maybe, who knows?” he shrugged and walked over to the large window in the living room.

“More wine?”

“Just one more glass. One last glass.”

“You said that just now,” she said as she refilled his glass.

“Well, you keep asking. Are you trying to make me stay?”

“Why should I?” she laughed. “You don’t belong here.”

“But I love this area. I love the atmosphere. The narrow streets, all the buildings so close to each other, the bars, the restaurants, the shops. This place has so much character,” he said, looking out of the window to the street below. He could make out the two girls below, still outside, enjoying the lovely night.

“I know. That’s why I am living here. That’s why I was born here.”

He laughed. “Is the Cigarini bookstore still around?”

She nodded.

“Still going strong at eighty. Amazing. Signor Cigarini. What do you think you would be doing when you are eighty?”

She shrugged, “Well, maybe dead and buried in the cemetery. We all have to go some time. And if I have led my life to the fullest, I wouldn’t have any regret not being around at eighty. Probably for the better. I probably would look hideous at that age.”

He laughed, “I am sure you would look just as beautiful.”

“Thank you. That’s why I keep refilling your glass. So that you keep the praises coming in.”

“Well, I have no complaints. It’s a good wine. It really is.”

“Glad you liked it then,” she smiled. “But I have no more to offer now. Unless you want me to open another bottle?”

“There’s no need for that. Time for the mochi cream?”

She nodded and they went back to the couch. “Well, let’s see if they are really as fantastic as you claim.”

“So…” he took out the box from the bag and opened it. Inside were 6 ball-shaped pieces of the Japanese confection.

“What flavours are there?”

“Well, this is vanilla, chocolate, matcha, raspberry, milk tea and grape.”

“3 each?” she asked, looking at him with earnest eyes.

“3 each.”

“Matcha.”

“Ok, I will take the raspberry.”

She bit into the confection, and chewed carefully, her eyes lighting up as she savoured the explosion of flavour in her mouth. She raised a thumbs-up. “Superb. Absolutely superb. You are right.”

“Right? Right? Ok, next pick. I go first?”

She nodded, popping the other half of the mochi into her mouth. “Mmmmmm.”

He took the grape, and she took the milk tea. She offered him the other half of hers, holding it to him. He looked at her, before opening his mouth and she popped the mochi into his mouth. He offered his half, which she took with relish. He wiped the bit of ice cream that had smudged her cheek. She laughed, somewhat embarrassed.

“So, the last two.”

“I know which one you are going to take,” he said.

She smiled. “You know me well.”

She took the vanilla mochi.

“So, this is it,” she said when they were finished.

“Sadly.”

They sat on the couch wordlessly for a while. Then, he took a look at his watch, and announced, “I guess I should get going. It’s almost three now.”

“Should I call you a taxi?”

“I would like to walk a bit through Trastevere, and when I get tired, then I guess I will take a taxi.”

“You still love walking, don’t you?”

He laughed, “It’s really nice to walk in the night, listening to your mp3. It feels like you can keep walking…forever.”

“To where? Where does forever lead to?”

He stared at her for a moment or two, before breaking into a laugh, “You have to spoil it, don’t you? My last moments in Rome.”

She laughed. “Mi dispiace. But at least, you leave with a sweet taste in your mouth. From the mochi. And that, is sweeter than forever.””

He nodded and got up. “Ok, I should get going.”

She saw him to the door, and leaned against the doorway, her arms folded.

“I am glad we got to talk tonight. Just like old times. You know, talk and not just speak.”

“Siamo amici. Friends always have things to talk about,” she replied.

“Friends?”

“Friends,” she affirmed.

“Friends,” he repeated, and winked. “Arriverderci, Chiara.”

They embraced.

“Arriverderci,” she whispered.

He released her, smiled and turned, as she leaned against the doorway again, arms folded.

He took two steps and turned. “By the way, I love your hair. I am not used to it, but I think it suits you. Take care, Chiara.”

She smiled.

As he came down the stairs and stepped out of the door into the cool night of Rome at 3a.m., the girls were gone.

Louise/Louiza

They stood side by side wordlessly, while the other parents around them bantered casually amongst themselves. Little schoolchildren started streaming out, shrieking in delight. It was Wednesday, and Wednesday afternoons are free. They watched as the other children found their parents. Finally, they saw their daughter trudging behind some other kids. They waved to her. Her face lit up when she saw them and she ran over to them immediately.

"Hallo Papa, hallo Mama," she flung her arms around his legs, before repeating the same ritual for her mother.

"Hallo, darling. How was school? What did you learn today?" she asked, ruffling her daughter's hair.

"Today was boring!" she made a face.

"What about lunch, Louise? Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"What do you want to have for lunch?"

"Frites!"

He stole a sideways glance at her, before bending down to the little girl, "I am not sure if..."

"It's all right. Let's go for frites," she smiled.

"Yay!"

"There's a good one just around the corner, by the church," he told her.

"I was thinking of that one as well. La Friterie de la Place de la Chapelle."

The little girl had run off a little in front of them, but noticing that they hadn't moved, she ran back, grabbing their arms. "Hurry!"

"The frites' not going to run away, Louiza," she laughed as she let herself be dragged along by the little girl.

"3 portions," he ordered when it was finally their turn.

"Right. And what does the little Miss want for her sauce?" the fritkot man asked with a twinkle in his eye.

She contemplated a while, before announcing grandiousely, "Andalouse."

"Andalouse it shall be. And what about you?" he asked them.

"I will have Sate."

"And for me, Aioli," she said.

"So, here you go," the man said, handing the girl her portion, before handing her parents' to her mother. Her father handed over the money.

"Sweet little family," the man smiled as he received the money. "Enjoy."

Her parents smiled awkwardly and looked away as she skipped off to the bench that had just been vacated by two men in suits, no doubt returning to their nearby office.

"Have a nice day," he finally said to the man, and they followed their daughter.

They sat on either side of their daughter. She swung her legs as she munched on her frites, looking dreamily into space.

"What are you thinking about, Louiza?"she asked.

"Thinking about how nice if every day could be like this!"

"Oh," she looked away as she thought of something to say. "Well, you can't have frites every day for lunch. It's too unhealthy."

"Spending more time together with both Mama and Papa would be nice," she said matter-of-factly.

"How's the frites, Louise?" he asked.

"De-li-cious."

"Can I have a bit of your sauce? You can try mine as well."

The little girl nodded and held out her sauce container to her father, at the same time reaching for his with a frites.

"You want some of it?" he asked, holding the container to her.

She hesitated before dipping one of her frites into the container, and offered hers in exchange. Her daughter quickly dipped her frites into her mother's sauce and giggled, as though she had won some form of competition between father and daughter. He laughed, before taking up on the offer.

"So, what do you want to do now?" he asked, as they cleared the rubbish.

"Shall we go for a walk?" she asked.

The little girl nodded and held their hands again as they went for a walk. Neither parent spoke, as they allowed themselves be led by their daughter.

"Look!" she dropped their hands and ran forward.

They caught up with her. She was pointing through the doors, to the interior of the church. "A wedding."

A smile tugged at their lips, and briefly their eyes met, but they quickly turned away again.

"Yes, it is a big day for them, so let's not disturb them," she said, pushing her daughter along.

They soon came to a playground by the crossroads, and she stole a look at her mother, who nodded, before running off to join the other children.

"Time flies, huh?" he remarked casually as they sat down on a bench.

"Yeah... can't believe she's already 7. Running around, jumping around like that. She was this small," she held up her hands about 50 centimetres apart and put them down again, smiling, "And 8 years ago, we were the ones in that church."

"What happened to us?"

"Maybe we got tired along the way. We were young back then, unafraid of everything. Look at us, we are old and jaded now," she laughed, with a tinge of bitterness.

He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Is this the end for us?" she asked.

10 metres in front of them, their daughter was waving to them.

"Or maybe we can try and make it work."

Jesen U Zagreb

As she had promised, it took me just 5 minutes to fall in love with Zagreb from the moment I stepped out of the Glavni Kolovdor and made my way to the main square Trg bana Jelacica.

Fallen leaves, flowers, a slight evening chill, beautiful old buildings, the smell of warm food wafting through the air, narrow alleys, the rooftops, the courtyards, a girl hurrying past and turning to steal a glance, people strolling down the streets, sitting on the benches, vendors peddling sweet corn and chestnuts at every corner… what could be more autumn than this?

I reached Trg Bana Jelacica, and saw the clock she told me about. "Everyone knows what you are talking about when you say 'by the clock.'" Although I have to admit, I was somewhat disappointed that it was just a rather ordinary street clock. When she told me that, in my mind, I was picturing something romantic, something that would capture your imagination. Like a work of art.

I found the shop selling ties; the address I looked up on the Internet took me to a chic shop off the main square. I entered the shop tentatively. There were three salesgirls, all dressed in maroon blouses, black pants and ties. Two of them were attending to customers. The face of the third one lit up when she saw me and she came over immediately.

"Dobar dan. How may I help you?" she asked.

"Actually, I am looking for someone who works here...or used to work here..."

She looked uncertain, "I am not sure if I can help you, because I am new here... What's her name?"

"Mia."

She shook her head apologetically.

I shrugged, "Well it's all right. It has been a year. So many things could have happened in this one year... Look, why don't you pick me a nice tie? I hear that ties originate from Croatia..."

She brightened up and proceeded to offer me a few designs. I ended up buying two, and stepped out of the shop. It was slowly getting dark.

I checked into my hostel, located above a courtyard just off the main square. I freshened up before asking the reception for recommendations for dinner.

I followed the instructions to the side street Skalinska behind the Dolac Market. But I didn't go to the recommended restaurant, because I saw the salesgirl from the tie shop sitting alone on the sidewalk outside the restaurant at the corner with a glass of wine. She was still in her maroon blouse and black pants, even though her tie was off.

"Hello," I went up to her.

"Hi... you are from just now..." she looked surprised.

"Yeah, I am the guy from just now," I laughed. "May I join you?"

"Sure," she said, pushing the chair beside her out, towards me.

"Thanks...Hvala," I ventured.

She smiled, "Where did you learn to speak Croatian?"

"The girl I am looking for, she taught me."

"So you came here to look for her? Just to look for her?"

"Sounds silly right? Like all I have is her name, and where she works...nothing else. What was I expecting? To bump into her just like that at a traffic light? In a city of one million people?"

"Like in the movies...why not?" she smiled.

"Oh well..." I shrugged.

The waitress came out and handed me a menu. I ordered a glass of the wine the salesgirl was drinking.

"So, what's your name? My name is David."

"I am Mia...but I know I am not the girl you are looking for."

"Mia, huh? What a coincidence. So, nice to meet you again, Mia."

"Nice to meet you too."

"What's good here? Are you getting anything to eat?"

"I ordered Cevapcici... you know, it's like the national dish...Here it comes."

The waitress came with Mia's food.

"Looks good...Can I have that as well?" I ordered from the waitress.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do in Zagreb? You did not manage to find her."

"I don't know. I am staying here for two more days. Tell me what I can do here. And please go on and eat. You must be starving after work."

"I am. You know, this was my first week of work. That is why I came here for dinner. To reward myself a little," she said, tucking in.

"That's a good idea. The first week is always a milestone, no? But why alone? It's Friday night, where are your friends?"

"I moved here not long ago. I am from the countryside. Most of the people I know are from work...I need to have a break after seeing them the whole week."

"I see. I am sorry if I spoiled your plans to be alone."

"No, it's not that I want to be alone. It's just that I need a break from them," she reassured me. "Besides, you are alone here too. So maybe you could use some company. It's not so good to be alone on a Friday night outside, right? When everyone else around you is laughing with friends, having fun, and you are alone, it really feels...sucky."

I laughed at her use of the word 'sucky'. "You are right."

"So, tell me about this other Mia. Where did you meet her?"

My food came. I waited until the waitress was gone before I spoke, "I met her last summer. In Dubrovnik."

"Ah...Dubrovnik. Very pretty, no?"

"It was like a dream. The perfect summer vacation."

"So you met her there...and fell in love with her?"

I laughed amidst a mouthful of the meat. "You got that."

"So summer came and left... you said goodbye, and all you got was her name, and where she worked?"

"Pretty much," I admitted.

She laughed, "I am sorry if I am being rude... but we live in the era of the Internet. We have Facebook, email, Skype, so many means of contact...and you didn't get anything else other than her name and her workplace?"

"Actually, she told me the name of the shop, and said it is very famous in Zagreb, and I looked it up on the Internet."

She looked at me, shaking her head in disbelief and laughed, placing her hand on my arm.

"Why?" she asked, when she had pulled herself together again.

"I thought it was just a summer fling. Not real. Like a dream. An illusion."

"Do you believe in dreams? Do you have dreams?" she asked quietly.

I didn't answer her.

We finished dinner in silence.

"Do you want me to show you my secret place in Zagreb?" she asked.

"If you want to?"

She smiled mysteriously. "Follow me then."

She led me back to towards my hostel, but took me through a winding alley that gently climbed up the hill. We came up to an observation deck of some sort, midway up the hill. Zagreb, as I found out, is hilly and consists of the Gornji Grad and Donji Grad, Upper and Lower Town respectively.

We stood at the railing, looking out over the city rooftops, at the Lower Town.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah, it is."

"I come here whenever I need to be alone, to think."

"Do you like Zagreb?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I have always wanted to come here. Since I came here as a kid on a class trip. The city gets under your skin. What about you? What do you think of Zagreb?"

"It is really beautiful in Autumn, as the other Mia had said."

"Is she from Zagreb?"

"Yeah. She was the one who told me I should come and see Zagreb."

"So if you had planned on coming to Zagreb, why didn't you get her contact?"

"I didn't know I was going to come."

"So why did you still come? Because you realise it wasn't a fling after all? That she means more to you?"

"I don't know. Maybe I am just trying to chase after something that's long gone. Like that summer."

"Is that summer that important to you?"

"I hear the sea sometimes. Even though it must be miles and miles away. It is calling me back."

"Summer. The sea. Love in the air. People are always sad to see summer go."

" You know, like when the past year has been going badly, when nothing is going according to plan, you just think: What have I achieved in the past year? Then you start thinking about getting away from it all, about happier times. Try to remember what it was like... Maybe that is what I am trying to do here. Maybe that is why I came here. To her Zagreb. It is like the last whiff of that summer. All that's left."

"Was the past year that bad for you?"

I nodded.

"I am sorry to hear that. Things will get better."

"Let's hope so," I smiled. "So, what about you? Do you have dreams?"

She nodded.

"What are your dreams?"

"Give me your email. Or Facebook. Whatever. I will let you know, when I have achieved them," she turned, facing me.

Our eyes met, and I felt her confidence, hope and belief in the future. In her future.

She handed me a notebook, opened to a blank page, and a pen. I wrote my contact.

"You know, people are always sad to see summer end. I always ask: why? Why? Autumn is beautiful too, if only you give her a chance."

"Maybe you are right," I acknowledged. "Tell me, Mia...tell me, what's the best thing you have ever eaten in Zagreb?"

"It's this Bakalar, a cod stew at Kerempuh. Above the Dolac Market."

I smiled. "Funny, I remember Mia saying something about that."

"Maybe you will meet her there. If it's her favourite place. You know, Zagreb isn't that big...one of the girls told me that you can run into someone you know easily in Zagreb. Maybe you will run into her."

"Maybe. Hey, how do you say 'Autumn in Zagreb' in Croatian?"

"Jesen U Zagreb."

"Write me. I will be waiting," I returned her notebook and pen.

That Autumn, I was in Zagreb for 3 days. I came to Zagreb looking for her, but I found myself instead. That afternoon before I left Zagreb, I went to Kerempuh and had the Bakalar. It was the best meal I have had in a while. After that, I went back and got on with my life.

I want to be able to tell Mia my dreams too, when she writes to me.

I truly believe she will.