“Hello…”

Even in this most neutral of phrases, her voice somehow managed to sound drawn out and inviting – or openly seductive, depending on the interpreter’s imagination. For a moment, he considered telling her what he had just been doing five minutes ago with the thought of her voice in his head, but then decided against it. Some things are best left unspoken. The private sphere – where would we all be without it?

“Hi…”

She fell silent – again, somehow very naked – then asked slowly and cautiously, as if negotiating a deal or something like that:

“Where are you calling from?”

“Close by,” he replied, just as cautiously. “I got here yesterday. Came to see my mother, leaving tomorrow or the day after.”

“In a hurry, as always.”

He wondered if he should take offence at the remark, then decided it was better to let it pass.

“I was wondering if there’s any chance we could meet…”

“There are all sorts of chances… But some people always miss them.”

“I don’t have time for this now. How’s the family?”

“Thanks, fine. Marian’s watching football in the other room, I’m here daydreaming…”

“Prose, is it?”

“Well, poetry ended for us about fifteen years ago. Why do you ask – have you suddenly taken an interest in poetry?”

“No, not exactly. It ended for me a long time ago too. But I still daydream now and then. It’s nice.”

“Make yourself some coffee. Sometimes it helps.”

“I don’t drink coffee. And right now, I might need some different kind of stimulant.”

“Straight to the point, as always.”

“Only art is eternal… Ugh, I’m getting tired of all this talking. So – do you want to see me or not?”

“I don’t know how that would work. I’ve got six hours tomorrow and the day after. Then second shift – cooking, laundry, the odd quickie, if the dear one’s in the mood…”

“That’s half the day. What about the other half?”

“Well, we’re afternoon shift. Maybe sometime before noon, but only for an hour or two. If you’re up for coffee… tea… in some lousy café…”

“Hm, better not. But I’ve got one or two better ideas.”

“Like what?”

“Like you taking a taxi and coming over. It’s twenty kilometers – not exactly the other end of the universe.”

“Me come to you? Who’s the one doing the asking here?”

“To have coffee in some café? We already ruled that out, didn’t we?”

“I hate that logic of yours. It’s always so damn relentless… And what are we supposed to do in your crappy little hometown? Are the cafés there any less crappy?”

“Cut the bullshit, Johnson! I’ve got a bit of private space here. Small house – but empty.”

He barely stopped himself from adding “like Bulgaria.” He knew she wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Hm, I might give it a try. But it’ll have to be quick. Ugh, my damned luck… I hate quickies more than anything, but I keep ending up with them.”

“That’s because you only think you hate them. And anyway, who has time for love in these parts? Do I have to explain these things to you? Also, try using the word ‘crappy’ a bit less. It’s obvious you teach teenagers.”

“Heh, as if you’ve ever seen Bulgarian teenagers outside a photo. If you only knew what they say these days, you’d blush all the way to your ears.”

“Fine, fine – we’ll do a crash course later. So – will you come or not?”

“I’ll come. What else can I do with you?”

“That’s better. When?”

“Tomorrow, around ten. Let’s hang up – Marian’s gone too quiet in the other room. You know what he’s like.”

“OK, till tomorrow then.”

“You forgot to say you’re kissing me. You’re getting old.”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.”

***

“Listen, listen, very quickly. I’m calling from the yard, barely slipped out, pretending to take out the trash. This thing between us – it’s not going to happen. My guy’s completely lost it. He must’ve overheard something, he’s been shadowing me every step since yesterday, I can’t move an inch. I’m sorry, I really wanted to, but there’s just no way. He won’t let me go anywhere – says he’ll come with me wherever I go. He gets really nasty when he’s like this. Better not to even try.”

He ground his teeth loud enough for her to hear, then said:

“You know, there’s no such thing as coincidence. Not in this world…”

“Oh, cut it with your stupid philosophies! I’m twisting myself into a pretzel to please him, and he…”

“Okay, okay, sorry! I’m disappointed too – you think I’m happy about this?”

“Whoops, I think he’s watching me from upstairs. And now the interrogations will start again…”

“Girl, why do you put up with all this crap? Can’t you finally find the guts to divorce him?”

“So I can rot alone like you? Come on, that’s enough – I don’t have time. Bye, I’ll call you later.”

The silence buzzed in his head like a whole swarm of wasps, and he forced himself to sit down and do some work. Work – what would we all be without work?

***

“Hello?”

Naked again. So very naked…

“Ah, you finally got free? Must be recess. How’s work?”

“Cut the bullshit, Johnson! I’m at your damn bus station and have no idea how to get to your place.”

“Whoa, this time you really blindsided me. What do you mean, at the bus station? I thought you were at work?”

“Gave the kids a free period – told them to sit still and make sure no one noticed. Then Vesko drove me here.”

“Who’s Vesko?”

“A colleague, keeps hitting on me. Let’s hope he doesn’t demand anything in return. So, are you going to tell me how to find your place or should I just head back?”

Suddenly his knees went soft. He couldn’t compete with her – he’d always suspected she was the crazier one of the two. As long as he felt in control, things were fine. But caught off guard, in a completely unexpected situation? At home? With this colleague in the next room? The neighbours? The whole small town soaked in gossip? This whole small, shitty country… his whole shitty life, damn it!

“No, no – better if I come get you. Wait there five minutes, I’m on my way.”

“But didn’t you…”

“No buts, I’m coming.”

She fell silent, but the disappointment oozed through the phone like a transparent, sticky slime. She was used to it. She knew her men.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and ran outside.

***

“Well, it’s not that shitty here.” He still couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands and felt absurdly relieved when the young waitress finally brought the menus. “Two long coffees and a tea, black, with milk. Leave us the menu, please. I want to look for something else.”

“Just one coffee, thanks,” said Vesko, who hadn’t even bothered to sit down. “I’ll go take a little walk, you’ve got a good fishing shop here. Been ages since I was last around.” He glanced at her, she gave him a polite smile, and he headed off into the heat.

“You haven’t changed a millimeter.” He stared at her legs; he knew she liked that kind of gaze.

“Yep. The students still whistle after me,” she smiled modestly. “But you’ve put on some weight. Looks like bachelor life isn’t treating you well. And don’t even try that one about big fish and big stones. Don’t disappoint me, please!”

She took his hand in hers, brought it to her lips, and began kissing it lightly. He forced himself not to pull away – the sun was blazing, his extra kilos were beginning to melt and form dark patches under his arms. And he hadn’t managed to put on a fresh shirt; this one had been worn three days already and was starting to smell. The wooden bench under him suddenly felt unbearably hot, and he found himself squirming like during an exam.

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone in a sec. Amazing, it’s like they really do read minds. You never have time for kisses, do you?”

“Sorry, I just wasn’t ready,” the words slipped out before he could think, and he immediately regretted it, but it was already too late.

“All the world’s a stage,” she murmured philosophically, then crossed her legs in a way that made the glittering triangle of her underwear practically stab him in the eye.

“So what now – we’re just going to sit here and look at each other like this?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. The second she spotted the disapproval in his eyes, she stuffed them back in.

“No, please – go ahead, smoke if you want. It’s fine.”

“You’ve grown old,” she repeated, then furrowed her brow, visibly plotting something. That familiar little spark flared up in her eyes. The devilish imp himself – Füt.

“Hey, they have a toilet here, right?”

“Of course they do, this isn’t…” he nearly bit his tongue. He still hadn’t gotten his footing – felt completely out of his depth – and that only filled him with more irritation. “Just there, to the right.”

“You know how bad I am with directions. Come on, show me the way.”

He gave her a suspicious look, but her smile was so perfectly innocent that before he knew it, he was leading her down the dim corridor, lit by a sad little bulb.

“Here you go. Hope there’s toilet paper.”

“Who cares. Come on, come in with me.”

“What are you… what are you up to?”

“Stop playing dumb. Just come in and don’t ask.”

Inside – thank God – it didn’t reek. He made a mental note to leave a bigger tip when they left. A clean toilet around here is like… well, like hitting a four on the lottery. Only it was a squat toilet, no seat. But you get used to those things. Hell, even that Czech guy drew it in his sketch – the Bulgarian squat toilet. A national trademark, like it or not.

Meanwhile, she had grabbed him and was kissing him fiercely. He kissed her back, faking enthusiasm, but his heart was thumping dully and all he could think was: what if someone walks in? He hated himself, but couldn’t stop.

Her fingers – quick and experienced – were already unbuckling his belt, while her other hand confidently guided his under her absurdly short skirt. Christ, what a sleaze I am, he thought, but the blood was already rushing in his head, and he let her take the lead without further resistance.

Her underwear was basically just a few elastic strips, likely see-through. Practical – didn’t even need to pull it down, just nudge it aside. His fingers were already moving on their own, executing the familiar routine without direct orders from the brain. She was more than wet – always had been, gifted girl – and the call of nature slowly started to drown out the dreadful anxiety buzzing in his skull.

“Come on, lift me a little,” she whispered into his ear, her tongue seemingly trying to tunnel through to the other side of his head. “Haven’t you seen movies? You’ve got to pin me against the wall and… ah, yes, that’s better.”

His gaze dropped to the mirror, which reflected his bare, sagging arse and trousers around his ankles like shackles. Please God, just no stains on my underwear. He tried to look engaged, but his mind had already detached and was wandering around the toilet – yes, toilet, let’s not kid ourselves – while he tried his best to grunt convincingly. She, on her part, was riding him without a hint of restraint, her moans probably echoing through the whole place. Dear God, help me! At least she was light – fifty kilos soaking wet – or else he probably couldn’t hold her like that for long.

Hey, they actually have toilet paper. Civilization has clearly made it this far, can’t deny it. Though the squat pan could use a solid cleaning – the last user had been a bit careless. Still, no complaints – it could’ve been much worse. And yes, it’s surprisingly clean in here, thank heavens.

Ugh – she finally finished. Just don’t expect me to come too, there’s no time for that.

“Oh, that was amazing. I always knew I was born for the movies. Just like in that film – forgot the name – with Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger.”

“Nine and a Half Weeks. Adrian Lyne.”

He shot it out automatically while pulling his trousers back up with visible relief. His underwear was clean – thank God. He’d nearly died of anxiety. That’s what happens when you can’t mentally prepare.

“I really enjoyed it too, by the way.”

“Well then, let’s go again.”

“Just kidding, just kidding,” she added quickly, spotting the panic in his eyes. Still, she couldn’t resist slipping in a frosty little “Men,” which sent a fresh wave of sweat rolling down his back.

“Come on, let’s go back.”

Vesko was already at the table, fiddling with some fishing tackle that had clearly transported him to some better, far-off world.

Yeah, some people are just born lucky.

“We’ve got to get going. Christ, we’re so late,” she blurted, starting to fuss.

“Vesko, start the Lada.”

The guy got up and trudged toward the car obediently. No “hello,” no “goodbye” – clearly something was gnawing at him after all. Otherwise he wouldn’t be this quiet.

Ah yes, the farewell moment. Ugh. It’s over.

“Don’t call me again,” she whispered in his ear before leaving. “It’s better this way. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” he muttered sadly.

“Want me to walk you to the car?”

“No need. This time I’ll manage on my own…”

He gave her a mournful look. You could’ve spared me that line, at least.

But her legs – damn, they really were something. Even now. Some people really do get all the luck.

His eyes fell on the bill lying on the table.

What the hell – five leva for two coffees and a tea? Who do these people think they are?

“Waiter!” he called out. “Just a moment, please. This bill here…”

Laughter floated over from the car. Then she shouted back:

“Already paid! Don’t worry about it. Take care!”

The sun kept hammering down.

God, how do these people survive this heat? How the hell do they do it, Lord?