- Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
P tocmai o întrebase dacă poate sta un minut în telefon, să se ducă să oprească fierbătorul.
P tocmai o întrebase dacă poate sta un minut în telefon, să se ducă să oprească fierbătorul.
- Bine, hai, zise A și o apucă strănutatul. Hap-ciu!
- Hai să trăiești, îi ură P. Stai așa!
- Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
- Iar s-aude ăsta, băga-i-aș p...
- Da, bine, bine, îl opri A. Lasă-i, dragă! Doar tu ești la ei în țară. Cu ce te deranjează? Închide geamul!
- Mi-e cald, fă!
A nu se supăra când îl auzea cu fă. Poți să scoți băiatul din sat, dar nu scoți satul din băiat. Right? Right. În tabăra de creative writing de la Florența, unde îl cunoscuse, P sărea în ochi din prima. Român get beget, curtenitor cu toate femeile și engleză furculition.
P a plecat din Italia direct la un consulat din nordul Africii, post pe care nu și-l dorea, dar la profesia lui nu putea să dea înapoi niciodată.
Lui A îi convenea de minune despărțirea de după aventura florentină. Nu avea chef de crescut un Sancho Panza care se vedea în oglinjoară ditamai Don Quijote. Fuse, fuse și se duse, își zicea în trenul care o aducea acasă, la Napoli. Acasă de câțiva ani și pentru cât timp o mai vrea Dumnezeu.
Numai că nu se duse așa de repede. P i-a trimis poezii prin e-mail și a sunat-o. Din rimă în glumă, P o suna seară de seară, apoi noapte de noapte.
Mi sono innamorata di te
Perché non avevo niente da fare
Di giorno volevo qualcuno da incontrare
Di notte volevo qualcosa da sognare.
Așa i s-a întâmplat și lui A.
Vorbea românește cu un român, despre mici nimicuri, trăncănea cu el în bula atemporală a iubiților. Dar când se auzea muezinul la chemarea din zori, Allahu Akbar o trezea brusc. Continuau să vorbească și peste strigătul în arabă. Însă chemarea la rugăciune o purta cu mintea într-un loc concret și în câteva secunde mii de kilometri se comprimau într-un punct. Allahu Akbar le spunea ce timp a venit musulmanilor de la Mediterana, dar și ei, care se ruga pe țărmul creștin al aceleiași mări.
Vocea muezinului care avea treaba lui pe lume îi amintea și ei ce rost are. Strigătul o făcea să-și dea seama unde e, cine e, cu cine vorbește, de ce mai vorbește, unde e el și cât e ceasul.
La sfârșitul unui concediu al lui în Italia, povestea s-a terminat. N-au fost prea multe explicații. Dar tot fără rațiuni și începuse, ce să ceri de unde nu era? Au fost niște veri pierdute și niște ani de cuvinte spuse degeaba. Eterna istorie.
De data asta, se și duse. Dumnezeu știe cu cine și de ce. Amin and let it be!
Chiar așa, de ce și-o fi amintit acum, după zece ani, de P, de nopțile cu el, de Allahu Akbar de peste Mediterana? Oi fi intrat în vreun vortex al fantomelor, vortexit, râse A. Era înainte de un zbor din Londra. Cu britanicii ăștia nu știi niciodată. Mai ales pe aeroporturi.
S-a apropiat de poarta ei de îmbarcare. Era încă devreme. S-a așezat pe un scaun de lângă geamurile mari, și-a pus ochelarii, și-a scos telefonul și a început să citească prostioarele de pe Facebook. O relaxa. O liniștea să vadă că viața amicilor și a pisicilor lor merge mai departe, că totul e previzibil și liniștit.
- Hi! Excuse me, please! May I use this plug to charge my phone?
Nici nu remarcase că era atât de aproape de o priză.
- OK, sure!
- Thank you, you are very kind!
- Don't mention it!
S-a mutat două scaune să îl lase lângă priză. După aerul cu care el s-a instalat, zbura tot spre Napoli, cu aceeași cursă.
La Napoli zbura, într-adevăr. S-a trezit lângă el în avion. El stătea la fereastră, ea, la mijloc.
A fost rândul lui să îi cedeze locul, amuzat. Serendipity.
M era curator la un muzeu tehnic din nordul Africii. Își vizitase prietenii din Londra și mergea la un seminar în Italia. Tată singur.
Discuția despre Italia, unde el ajungea prima dată, a făcut să treacă timpul repede. Erau suspendați peste Mediterana când schimbul de cărți de vizită s-a făcut simplu și aproape simultan. Teama lor era aceeași: se apropia aterizarea, cozile diferite UE, non-UE și așteptarea bagajelor de cală puteau complica despărțirea și îi puteau face să rateze schimbul de telefoane.
Când și-au luat la revedere, A nu i-a propus să bea o cafea și să îi fie ghid în Napoli. Dacă era să fie, să fie, dar nu voia să se arunce spre el cu toată dorința ei de femeie, deghizată în politețe. Dacă n-o fi vreun pămpălău și m-o fi plăcut, o să mă caute el. Știe ce are de făcut, dacă e bărbat.
După o zi, a venit un mesaj neutru care își lăsa loc de întors în cazul unui refuz. M îi mulțumea pentru compania din timpul zborului, îi spunea cât de mult îi place orașul și îi ura Noapte bună. Era 9 fără un sfert. A i-a răspuns o jumătate de oră mai târziu. L-a invitat la un ceai a doua zi, în cafeneaua ei preferată de pe Via Toledo, după ce își terminau programul. S-au întâlnit și au băut ceai verde într-o seară de sâmbătă.
Licoarea îi împingea în spirala preludiului. Fiecare picătură turna în ei foc și miere. El a comandat al doilea rând de ceai doar ca să nu îi pară ei prea grăbită mâna cu care i-ar fi smuls hainele.
A fost așa cum a trebuit să fie. Timpul începea atunci și amândoi știau că lumea o lua de la zero în aerul Mediteranei. Te iubesc abia aștepta să fie spus și l-au spus, ca și cum nimănui până la ei nu-i trecuse prin minte că starea asta se poate numi așa. L-au șoptit întâi în engleză, apoi fiecare în limba lui maternă. Îl rosteau ca și cum s-ar fi ciupit de obraji să vadă dacă se întâmplă cu adevărat, îl rosteau pentru aerul din afara lor. Ce trăiau nu știuseră că poate fi trăit.
M s-a întors în țara lui. La scurtă vreme după povestea napoletană, A s-a întors și ea.
Vorbesc la telefon uneori, când unul sau altul sună că îi e dor. Când el iese pe balcon să fumeze, îi numără stelele pe care le vede deasupra mării.
A nu mai are ce să caute în lume, pentru că atunci când aude vocea muezinului, Allahu Akbar sună ca o chemare acasă.
.....
- Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
P. asked her to hold on for one minute, he had to turn off the kettle.
- OK, she said, and started to sneeze.
- God bless you! said P. Just wait!
- Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
- Oh, those people again...mother f...
- Ok, ok, she stopped him from finishing the sentence. Let them be! Don't forget you are the guest in their country. Why it is bothering you so much? Just close the window!
- I am hot, you stupid!
A. didn't care about being called that way. You can pull out the little boy from his village but you cannot pull out the village from the little boy, right?
They met in a creative writing seminar in Florence when he was the most noticeable of all men. Genuine Romanian - swagerring with every woman and speaking bad English.
P. left Italy for a North Africa consulate, a job he didn't want at all but mandatory for the work he did.
The separation after Florence affair suited her. A. didn't want at that time to take care of a Sancho Panza character that saw himself like a real Don Quijote. Easy come, easy go, she said in train back home to Naples. Her home for several years already and for how many more God knows.
Only that it didn't go so easily. P. sent her e-mails with poems and he called her. From one rhyme to another and from one joke to the next one, P. called her every day, and after, every night.
Mi sono innamorata di te
Perché non avevo niente da fare
Di giorno volevo qualcuno da incontrare
Di notte volevo qualcosa da sognare.
The same thing as in this Italian song happened to A. She was happy for having a Romanian to speak to, they chatted in lovers timeless ball. But when she heard the muezzin's morning call to prayer, Allahu Akbar suddenly woke her up. They continued to talk over muezzin voice in Arabic. But that call to prayer took her away in a specific yet unknown place and in a few seconds thousands of kilometers became one single dot. Allahu Akbar told the time to the Mediterranean Muslims and also to her, woman who used to pray on Christian bank of the same sea.
The voice of muezzin who had his purpose in this world reminded her about her own. The call made her realize where she was, who she was, to whom she was speaking, where he was and what time was it.
After one of his holidays in Italy, their story came to an end. Without too much explanations. It started for no reason, so no reason to ask for an explanation. What to ask from nothing? She only counted a few lost summers and other years of lost spoken words. Same old story. This time, easy come was eventually easy go, God knows with whom and why. Amen and let it be!
A. wondered why she recalled now, after 10 years, all of that - her nights with P. and that Allahu Akbar over Mediterranean Sea. "Maybe I am in some ghosts’ vortex, vortexit", she laughed. She was before a flight from London. "You never know with these British, especially on airports".
She approached the gate of her flight. It was still early. She sat by some large windows, she put on the glasses and started to scroll on her Smartphone. The silly pictures of cats and the small things her friends shared used to chill her. She was eased by that. When she saw how the life of her friends and their pets was moving on, everything seemed peaceful and predictable.
- Hi! Excuse me, please! May I use this plug to charge my phone?
She didn't even notice how close she was to a plug.
- OK, sure!
- Thank you, you are very kind!
- Don't mention it!
She moved to let him by that plug. She understood from how he sat and he arranged his things that he was about to board the same flight.
He was flying to Naples, indeed. They found each other in the plane. He had the window seat, she had the middle one. It was his turn to offer to switch seats. Serendipity.
M. was curator in a technical museum in North Africa. He visited some friends in London and he was heading to a conference in Naples. Single father.
Their conversation about Italy, first visit for him, compressed time. They were above Mediterranean Sea when they exchanged business cards, simply and almost simultaneously. They shared the fear that landing, different lines for EU and non EU passport control and wait of luggage by the belt would complicate their good bye and it could make them miss the personal data exchange moment.
When they said good bye, A. didn't propose to have a coffee or to be his guide in Naples. If it was meant to be, it will happen, she didn't want to throw herself to him. She felt lust but she disguised it into courtesy. If he isn't a pussy and if he has liked me, he will call me. He knows what he had to do, if he's a man.
The next day, a neutral SMS came from him, flat enough to remain careless unanswered. M. thanked her for the company during their flight, he wrote about how much he enjoyed Naples so far and he wished her Good Night. It was 8.45 p.m. A. replied to him one hour later. She invited him to have a tea on the next day, in her favorite coffee shop on Via Toledo.
They met Saturday evening for a green tea.
The sweet potion pushed them both on foreplay spiral. Each drop of tea poured fire and honey. He ordered a second cup of tea only to hide from her his hurried hand.
And all was the way it had to be. Time then began and both knew the world just started with them in Mediterranean air. I love you waited to be whispered for the very first time and they said it like no one before ever conceived to name that feeling. First in English and then each in their mother tongue. They said it like poking reality, for the air around their bodies. What they lived no one knew it might be lived.
M. went back to his country. Shortly after their story in Naples, A. went back to hers.
They speak on the phone sometimes, whenever one misses the other. When he is smoking on the balcony, he is counting on the phone the stars above the sea.
A. has nothing more to find out in the world, for hearing muezzin's voice, Allahu Akbar calls her home.
- Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
P. asked her to hold on for one minute, he had to turn off the kettle.
- OK, she said, and started to sneeze.
- God bless you! said P. Just wait!
- Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
- Oh, those people again...mother f...
- Ok, ok, she stopped him from finishing the sentence. Let them be! Don't forget you are the guest in their country. Why it is bothering you so much? Just close the window!
- I am hot, you stupid!
A. didn't care about being called that way. You can pull out the little boy from his village but you cannot pull out the village from the little boy, right?
They met in a creative writing seminar in Florence when he was the most noticeable of all men. Genuine Romanian - swagerring with every woman and speaking bad English.
P. left Italy for a North Africa consulate, a job he didn't want at all but mandatory for the work he did.
The separation after Florence affair suited her. A. didn't want at that time to take care of a Sancho Panza character that saw himself like a real Don Quijote. Easy come, easy go, she said in train back home to Naples. Her home for several years already and for how many more God knows.
Only that it didn't go so easily. P. sent her e-mails with poems and he called her. From one rhyme to another and from one joke to the next one, P. called her every day, and after, every night.
Mi sono innamorata di te
Perché non avevo niente da fare
Di giorno volevo qualcuno da incontrare
Di notte volevo qualcosa da sognare.
The same thing as in this Italian song happened to A. She was happy for having a Romanian to speak to, they chatted in lovers timeless ball. But when she heard the muezzin's morning call to prayer, Allahu Akbar suddenly woke her up. They continued to talk over muezzin voice in Arabic. But that call to prayer took her away in a specific yet unknown place and in a few seconds thousands of kilometers became one single dot. Allahu Akbar told the time to the Mediterranean Muslims and also to her, woman who used to pray on Christian bank of the same sea.
The voice of muezzin who had his purpose in this world reminded her about her own. The call made her realize where she was, who she was, to whom she was speaking, where he was and what time was it.
After one of his holidays in Italy, their story came to an end. Without too much explanations. It started for no reason, so no reason to ask for an explanation. What to ask from nothing? She only counted a few lost summers and other years of lost spoken words. Same old story. This time, easy come was eventually easy go, God knows with whom and why. Amen and let it be!
A. wondered why she recalled now, after 10 years, all of that - her nights with P. and that Allahu Akbar over Mediterranean Sea. "Maybe I am in some ghosts’ vortex, vortexit", she laughed. She was before a flight from London. "You never know with these British, especially on airports".
She approached the gate of her flight. It was still early. She sat by some large windows, she put on the glasses and started to scroll on her Smartphone. The silly pictures of cats and the small things her friends shared used to chill her. She was eased by that. When she saw how the life of her friends and their pets was moving on, everything seemed peaceful and predictable.
- Hi! Excuse me, please! May I use this plug to charge my phone?
She didn't even notice how close she was to a plug.
- OK, sure!
- Thank you, you are very kind!
- Don't mention it!
She moved to let him by that plug. She understood from how he sat and he arranged his things that he was about to board the same flight.
He was flying to Naples, indeed. They found each other in the plane. He had the window seat, she had the middle one. It was his turn to offer to switch seats. Serendipity.
M. was curator in a technical museum in North Africa. He visited some friends in London and he was heading to a conference in Naples. Single father.
Their conversation about Italy, first visit for him, compressed time. They were above Mediterranean Sea when they exchanged business cards, simply and almost simultaneously. They shared the fear that landing, different lines for EU and non EU passport control and wait of luggage by the belt would complicate their good bye and it could make them miss the personal data exchange moment.
When they said good bye, A. didn't propose to have a coffee or to be his guide in Naples. If it was meant to be, it will happen, she didn't want to throw herself to him. She felt lust but she disguised it into courtesy. If he isn't a pussy and if he has liked me, he will call me. He knows what he had to do, if he's a man.
The next day, a neutral SMS came from him, flat enough to remain careless unanswered. M. thanked her for the company during their flight, he wrote about how much he enjoyed Naples so far and he wished her Good Night. It was 8.45 p.m. A. replied to him one hour later. She invited him to have a tea on the next day, in her favorite coffee shop on Via Toledo.
They met Saturday evening for a green tea.
The sweet potion pushed them both on foreplay spiral. Each drop of tea poured fire and honey. He ordered a second cup of tea only to hide from her his hurried hand.
And all was the way it had to be. Time then began and both knew the world just started with them in Mediterranean air. I love you waited to be whispered for the very first time and they said it like no one before ever conceived to name that feeling. First in English and then each in their mother tongue. They said it like poking reality, for the air around their bodies. What they lived no one knew it might be lived.
M. went back to his country. Shortly after their story in Naples, A. went back to hers.
They speak on the phone sometimes, whenever one misses the other. When he is smoking on the balcony, he is counting on the phone the stars above the sea.
A. has nothing more to find out in the world, for hearing muezzin's voice, Allahu Akbar calls her home.
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