Trouble finding Blondie (42 page)

“Well, I thank Jesus for that, Josef. And I’m still expecting all the thank you cards for all your exciting aerobics that night.”

Everyone was laughing but Anton wouldn’t let go. “So I’m the only one? Seriously?”

“Yeah, and looks like the only one who didn’t get any either. Oh, wait. Grandpa?”

“No worries there, Brian. What is it you kids say now? I went around the world at least twice.”

Everyone was laughing out loud, but Andre knew something about the proverbial Zatopek ego and came to his brother’s rescue.

“Don’t worry, Anton, I didn’t get any either. All these fuckers benefited from my despair. Some friends, really, especially guests. Unbelievable.”

The laughter was genuine, and it was so good to let loose.

“Mom, you did a striptease?” Arye asked.

“Well, technically, no! Didi threw me in the pool. My wet dress was too heavy, and I simply took it off. With no theatrical, sexual gestures.”

That started another round of hysterical laughter. Perfect time for Anton to lean towards Simona and whisper something.

“Can we talk for a few minutes?”

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Arye started asking Andre more questions about what went down, and it was Simona’s moment of distraction to sneak out. She walked into the kitchen where Anton was already pacing nervously, waiting for her.
 

“Do we need wine for this discussion?” she asked.

“Yes, please.”

Simona was clueless about why Anton was so nervous and agitated. She poured two glasses of Cabernet to Anton’s silent nod of approval.

Normally, this would be the time when she would already be helping to put the other person at ease, but Anton was different. He possessed the Zatopek ego, confidence, and a certain arrogance of being above others. He could hold his own, and Simona always treated him as her equal.

“Do you have a toast?” she asked.
“No, do you?”
“Well, whatever the discussion, let’s hope we can walk away in peace, even if respectfully disagreeing.”

“I’ll drink to that. Cheers. Can we go somewhere?”

“We could, but the minute they realize we are missing, it will be a search party again. Let’s stay visible. That’s going to put everyone at ease.”

They walked out, told everyone they needed a few minutes to talk, and walked toward the other end of the patio. They sat down in comfortable chairs facing each other. Anton had his back towards the group in the distance, allowing Simona to have a full view while still hiding behind Anton when talking so that nobody could read her lips.

Simona was strangely enjoying the awkward silence, sipping on her wine.

“Listen, Margaret’s timing couldn’t have been worse, and the place she chose to vent, too. But there were some things that had value. And I have to confess that the ‘zero to hero’ comes from me.”

“Well, before we get lost in translation, let me make sure that I understand you correctly. You are saying that you share your wife’s beliefs, that I give with agenda, expecting something in return? Am I understanding you correctly?”

“Well, maybe agenda is not the right word. Maybe you are too good to be true. But
 
people do feel obligated, and sometimes it’s too much for them to take.”

“But that is their problem, not mine. It’s every person’s right to project and believe what they want to see.”

“Are you saying that you agree? You just don’t give a shit about how they feel?”

“No, not at all. I’m saying... I know I give with the freedom of zero expectations. I’m certain and very clear about it. First of all, my mother was the person you are describing. She at some point reminded people around her what she did for them. I hated that and swore to never be like her. Secondly, giving with agenda is not genuine. It will never serve the purpose of giving.”

“But what if your giving or doing makes people uncomfortable?”

“Then they need to figure out why. Why they can’t receive it, why they don’t want it, and they need to come and say it instead of accepting it and then bitch about it behind my back.”

“What if they don’t want to offend you or hurt your feelings?”

“Well that’s pretty twisted, even by your standards. No offense.”

“None taken. Continue...”
“Continue, please?”

“Holy shit, you are a pain in the ass.”

“Yes, and your manners suck.”

“Can you please elaborate?”
“Well, you don’t have the balls or the courage to say something or to end the let’s call it ‘unwanted relationship’, yet you keep accepting the benefits. At that point, you are not being honest and genuine, but you go on a spree of judgment, accusations, and back stabbing talks? Am I getting your philosophy right?”

“You are not an easy person, you have to admit that.”

“I’m complicated as shit. I can’t live with my own self half the time. My mind goes at a million miles an hour, and I’m just trying to make sure that after each run I slow it down to nourish my body and soul.”

“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, but I know who I am. I know what I want, and now in my forties I have a great sense of time urgency. I have very little of it, and I use it wisely. I’m not as generous with it as I used to be. I’m willing to spend it only with the people that matter to me.”

“What I meant was how you don’t get along with people. How you burn them.”

“Well, I guess it’s time for you to elaborate. That’s a pretty powerful statement.”

“Look at the women that used to be close to you, and now they are completely out of your life.”

“Well, I’m very open about the fact that I don’t understand the majority of women. I’m a true tomboy. I grew up with boys, worked with men, and I’m also wired like them. Even in my marriage, everyone always used to tease us about the opposite roles we played. I don’t sugarcoat,
 
and I have very little tolerance for whiny, insecure women. I used to think that I could help them to get stronger, and the only way I knew was ‘tough love.’ Well, it didn’t work very well. The result was them getting offended or pissed off. Their only response was the silence treatment.”

“I get that part. And I have to give you that you are a straight shooter. I will even give you that with your strong personality they needed you, not the other way around.”

“The two women you are referring to are from our ‘foreign circle,’ correct? The emigrant syndrome we all carry; to make friends with our countrymen. It’s some kind of a homesick psychology syndrome, living far away from our own culture. I would have probably never picked or attracted those women into my life based purely on my personality.”

“I understand, and you are right. We sometimes force ourselves to build relationships on…what did you call it? Homesick syndrome?”

“Look, I mourn every loss. I don’t take friendships lightly. But when the sick ones, or the ‘one way street’ ones cease to exist, you blossom like a tree that has been rid of sick branches. It all happens for a reason, and I’m sure they feel the same way.”

“So you don’t think you have any wrongdoing or fault in it?”

“Quite the opposite. I learned from my mistakes. I look at them as lessons, an opportunity to improve and grow. I made amends, apologized for my part. Always forgave, even offered casual friendliness.”

“Are you saying that you admitted your fault, apologized, and they didn’t know how to take it, turned around, and made it look like they didn’t want anything to do with you?”

“All I’m saying is that I recognized the unhealthy match, recurring misunderstandings, one way efforts. And as you said, as a straight shooter I put all of that in words and offered a casual friendship. Now it’s hard to say if it was our egos or insecurities or maybe just a maturity issue.”

“Are you saying it got twisted, and you ended up being portrayed as the villain?”

“No. As I said, I had my part in it. But in the aftermath, my motto always is, ’the way people treat you is their karma, the way you respond is yours.’”

“Meaning you didn’t defend yourself?”

“No, and it served me well in my life. Holding onto my dignity and keeping my mouth shut.”

“Are you saying they played the victims?”

“I’m saying I had that role as a kid. I didn’t choose it, didn’t ask for it, and I really didn’t like it. I would never volunteer for it. They can have it.”

“Do you regret any of it?”

“The experience, the loss of friendships, or that I did too much?”

“Well, I guess all of the above, but I meant more the people.”

“Hmm, they came to my life for a reason. They enriched my life with lessons and taught me a lot. I don’t live with regrets. But knowing what I know now, being who I am now, I probably would have handled some things differently.”

“But you don’t miss them as people?”

“They were not my kind. As you said, the kind that love me and can handle me with all my good, bad, and ugly, I have those. I’ve had them for decades. Those are the ones I’m focusing on. I like the same kind around me. Like everyone, the kind that builds you up, not tears you down.”

“But your extreme generosity is the same.”

“My generosity comes from my core values, from my childhood and my giving soul. It’s what makes me happy. In the past two decades, I did too much for too many, got hurt a lot, was misunderstood plenty. I learned to only make the effort for people who genuinely need it and want it. I offer, but wait for them to come back with the answer. That was my biggest challenge and a lesson.”

“Not to overstep your boundaries? Too much, too fast?”

“Yes, my childhood syndrome of not being saved. I had tendencies to save everyone around me. And not only to save, but to fix. Or even better, to rescue.”

“I guess I get that part. And now?”

“Now, I learned to listen. Offer my help so that people don’t have to ask, but then wait for them to answer. Some things I still give endlessly though. For example, a smile and a hug. It’s something we all can give for free. That’s what I give the most. Time, not so much anymore. I became stingy with that one.”

“I don’t get you.”
“Funny, your wife said the same thing. You probably don’t because you are wired differently. You are looking at my actions with your mindset. There is something that saddens me though.”

“Something I said?”

“I have never been close with your wife. But you and I built a relationship on mutual respect. I remember when you used to work at night we would write to each other from time to time. Andre was always shocked, almost in disbelief, that you would write paragraphs when everyone knows you are a one sentence kind of a guy. It got to a point where he wanted proof, but I told him that I don’t mix relationships.”

“But I still do have respect for you.”

“Respect, maybe. But you are judging me. Not based on your personal experience with me, but based on assumptions, rumors, and statements of others. I thought you were better than that.”

“Are you saying that I’m making my verdict on circumstantial evidence?”

“Yes, and in that case, I rest my case.”

“I really like you, Simona. And you do have my respect.”

“Well, sadly you are losing mine.”

“Why?”

“Look, Anton, if we would talk computers or finance, I would give some serious thinking to your points because I admire your expertise in those fields. But to come and be this judgmental based on ‘their say’ about me in the field of human relationships and psychology is not only wrong on so many levels, but simply hypocritical.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, this is my exit door, but please think of these as rhetorical questions. What kind of a son, brother, husband, father, and friend are you? How many true friends do you have? How do you nourish and keep your relationships alive? What do you do for the planet Earth? For society? For humanity? How much care, effort, and love do you put into any of the relationships above? But most importantly, what kind of man are you hoping to be? How many lives and hearts did you touch on this ride called life? Respectfully disagree it is, Anton. Cheers!”

“Cheers. To be continued, please.”

“Alright, you are on. Until next time then. Take your time, finish your wine. I have to go back before I get the title of a slacking hostess.”

Simona got up and looked straight in his eyes. There was a certain sadness, disappointment perhaps. And for some reason, it was hard for Anton to take. He watched her walk away…

Why am I bothered by this? Why do I care? What does it matter to me what Simona thinks of me?
 

Somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling off.

25

"BECHEROVKA, THE MEDICINE CALMING ANGRY INDIANS."

SIMONA WAS FINALLY in a taxi. It was past ten o’clock, perfect time to go out in Europe. Despite the long flight, she felt rested and excited. She couldn’t help shake off an uneasy feeling though, but
 
she dismissed it as being jet-lagged and a little hungry. She was smiling, imagining the surprised expression on Trouble’s face. The sparkles in his eyes, the smile that made her world bright.