As usual, Oliver had forgotten our date and it was the third time it happened. Finally, the waiter picked up the clean plates that rested in front of me, as empty as my hopes of seeing him arrive; the small table at Café Olé, the place where we had our first date, was as lonely as it was when I sat down.
My fingers had creased the cover and back cover of the book I was pretending to read, the perfect cover for the inquisitive stares of the ladies clucking at the surrounding tables. Page number 50 had been staring at me mockingly for more than half an hour. The waiter politely pointed to the coffee before me, I shook my head, and he left as quickly as he had come without saying a word.
A small vibration showed me a message like many others that already used to accumulate in my inbox: “Sorry for forgetting our lunch, next time I'll make it up to you.”
I sipped some cold, bitter brew before leaving the tip on the table.
The last sentence rumbled in my head as if wanting to chisel itself into my weak self-esteem. “Next time, next time...”,
It would be the last time he would stand me up, I would make sure of that.
Convincingly, the next morning, I set decorum aside and decided to inquire into the activity that was wearing down our intimate routine.
It was Tuesday afternoon, summer was ending and the days were getting shorter. I managed to follow, for more than 20 blocks, Oliver's unmistakable chicken-yellow Renault 5. I had borrowed my good friend Erika's Volkswagen Fox, I lied to her that my car was at the mechanic's shop, but I didn't want to involve her in my crazy detective work. I was sure she would label me as jealous, maybe a stalker or worse, and she would end up lecturing me once again for not giving up this unhealthy relationship.
I was cautious; I wore a cap, glasses, and a jacket so no one I knew would recognize me. After many turns, Oliver finally stopped his rust bucket in front of a bookstore, a store that looked as if it had been built during the time of the Inquisition. I wondered if there were still people who used books for more than just hiding their frustrations.
Two unknown girls, a lanky redhead with a prominent nose and a short, obese brunette with very thick glasses, both came out of the establishment to greet him. There was something particular about them, they all wore the same attire, long dark robes.
Did Oliver belong to some kind of cult I didn't know about?
As strange as their attire seemed, they did not go back inside the bookstore. The three of them walked to the entrance of a small alley. Oliver quickened his pace as he waved his hands back and forth, perhaps he was anxious or was it excitement? Everyone looked both ways and then turned the corner. I waited a few seconds to get out of the car and follow them on foot, for an instant some cars surprised me as I tried to cross the street. After a few expletives from me to the careless drivers, I made it to the corner. Nonetheless, the street was as deserted as my hopes of surprising them.
Was my imagination playing tricks on me? I could have sworn I had seen them come in. Next time I would make sure not to let them out of my sight. Next time...
The next few days I tried to follow them again but no matter how hard I tried, they always disappeared as if by magic. Every time they turned the corner, poof! they were gone. It was frustrating not knowing where they vanished. Finally, Friday arrived, I had already spent too many days wasting my time, so I plucked up my courage and decided to stay and wait for them to return from wherever they had gone, no matter that it would take me all day and possibly night.
I chose a cozy bench and spread the sheets of a newspaper in front of me.
I waited, waited, and waited, it seemed to me that I had spent hours sitting on that little bench, yet they never came back.
I was tired of waiting; soon I realized what a ridiculous thing I was doing. I was wasting my time again. I felt like a silly little girl waiting for Santa Claus to arrive in September. But I was not going to sit idly by…
While I was mumbling a new plan and perhaps an alternative of never seeing him again and thus once and for all stop tormenting myself with the probabilities of an uncertain future; the repressed screams of a lady who stopped in front of the entrance of the mysterious street caught my attention. Her chubby body was hard to miss, plus her feathered hat made her head look smaller than it appeared.
Who the hell wore feathered hats?
It was hilarious to watch her failed attempts to keep order; the dozens of boys and girls who came with her still ignored the warnings she gave them, mumbling amused, fidgeting, jumping, smiling, expressing a strange glee at entering a desolate street.
- Don't move away, stay together!- commanded the broad-bodied lady for the umpteenth time. Like Oliver, she looked both ways down the street and quickened her pace as she rounded the corner. A couple of boys stood chatting unaware of the lady's orders and lagged behind.
Without thinking, I slipped in between them to join them, my tiny body would go unnoticed, many say I look like a small girl or as Erika would say, a half-baked woman. This time I wore a long-sleeved plaid shirt, a Nick’s cap, and a long flared skirt. A combination I would never wear even if it was the last piece left in the Earth. I followed them very closely, without drawing attention to myself. I had seen a lot of detective movies and the first rule of following someone was never to make eye contact. So I kept my eyes down and went unnoticed.
Suddenly, the alleyway became larger than I had previously appreciated. As wide and full of life as I could have ever imagined; on either side were shelves and stores; dozens of people were crowding them. And before I knew it, I suddenly found myself in a Persian market, or so it seemed to me. The street was suddenly crowded with people.
Hundreds of smells permeated the air. Some were sweet, pungent, repellent, perhaps sour, and some even repulsive. Faced with so much hustle and bustle, I took the opportunity to separate myself from the group and slipped between the busy and distracted passers-by.
- Make way! Make way! - warned a small boy, pushing the people in front of him; making the racket louder and louder to make way. But he was not a boy, perhaps a man of very short height, I thought; however, there was something unusual about him, he had very large, pointed ears, and his fingers were extremely long as was his nose in comparison to the size of his body. One thing I have developed quite a bit with practice is my peripheral vision, as accurate as a high-definition security camera. Truly, the character looked grotesque.
- I must get to Gringots fast!- the little monstrosity shouted again, there would be no better adjective to describe its peculiar appearance.
- What on earth will Gringots be?- I blithely let the question escape into the air,
-There is no safer bank than Gringots, miss,- replied a kindly, thick voice coming from a tall man with a dark complexion and bulging eyes, he wore a small hat, as the Turks usually wear, and something like a colorful dress that covered his body down to his feet, and without waiting for my answer, he winked at me and went on his way.
The crowd jostled me carelessly, suddenly, I felt the cold surface of a glass on my shoulder, a store quite brightly lit.
What kind of store sells only brooms? I wondered.
Astounded kids were whispering about the new Nimbus 2000 or something like that, gleaming in the center of the shelf. I assumed the local kids didn't have video games in their homes and were amazed by anything insignificant.
I set out to explore the unusual street, sneaking past the people walking down it. It was lined with stores that were getting stranger and stranger from one another. Robes for all occasions? A grimace of disgust creased my face, they were too old-fashioned in style for my tastes.
Giant spiders? shrunken heads? My body shuddered at the thought of someone coming out of those tents dragging one of those things. Where the hell was I?
Owlery Shop? Why would I want a pet owl?
Wands? I was beginning to think that the street was not quite as ordinary as I would have thought. I gasped when from the hands of a rather distracted little boy, a huge toad leaped towards me, I instantly recoiled from the warty and slippery amphibian, bumping into a wall, which at first seemed quite cushioned for being built in the middle of the street.
It gave off an odor of homelessness or some mattress that had been piled in the garbage for weeks. I looked up, over what seemed to me to be eight feet, and found a bushy beard. Tender, sorrowful eyes made a pair of huge arms straighten my composure.
-I'm so sorry,- he replied awkwardly.
The plaintive hooting distracted my attention to the huge cage hanging from his right hand. A white owl, inside it, looked annoyed by the shaking it was subjected to.
-I'm sure he's going to be thrilled,- the human mountain commented to himself as he made his way toward the wand store.
Definitely, the situation called for a strong drink in the face of so many eccentricities, perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me. I'm sure Erika would judge me as crazy if I tried to explain to her where all this chase had ended.
Fortunately, among the whispers and hubbub, I could detect the unmistakable smell of fermented drinks and maybe fried foods, an establishment with a large cauldron hanging from a sign, waved as if offering me a safe place, away from the bustle, to relieve the roller coaster of emotions that jumped inside me ...
I made my way through the crowded place and found a place as far away as possible from the unusual rabble that frequented it. I was exhausted from so many emotions; I took off my cap and finally, sat down to enjoy a bubbly beer. I barely managed a couple of gulps when suddenly my heart skipped a beat when I heard my name.
- Amelia! How the hell did you get here?
Oliver's eyes widened. He was carrying a stack of books tied with a ribbon dangling from his right hand and in his left hand was folded the dark robe he wore earlier.
- A woman has her means,- was all I could think to say, brushing the foam off the top edge of my lips.
He came next to the prominent-nosed heron, who also had his eyes as wide as a pair of soup plates. Were they having an affair? It sure would be a good place to do so, since no one was paying attention to anyone in this strange place.
His anxious countenance relaxed at the delicate touch of his companion's hand and her compassionate gaze. Who the hell was that girl? How dare she hold his hand in front of me?
My eyes jumped from one to the other, but I kept my composure hiding it behind a new gulp of the sweet beer I had ordered, despite its taste, it went bitterly down my throat wallowing with the bile in my guts.
They exchanged glances and decided to sit next to me. Oliver sat next to me and the skinny one across from us. Perhaps, it was the best strategy to keep me from making a scene.
- Hello, the girl urged, -my name is Greta.
I responded to her greeting with a forced smile, which I didn't believe myself.
The girl left after a few minutes. Perhaps she had read my mind. I was about to pour out all my frustrations on Oliver, however, suddenly, I felt very sleepy. I yawned a couple of times Had it been that long? I thought it wouldn't be past 6 pm. It was barely my second beer, or was it my third?
My eyelids closed and everything went black.
...
The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted up to my bed. I stretched out under my covers and glanced at my alarm clock. It read 8:30 in the morning. The next three letters kept me from having a heart attack. - Sunday, what a relief.
Next to the clock, there was a little note: “Shall we have lunch together? O.”
I barely remembered what had happened, or maybe... dreamed?
An angry Erika, for an unknown reason, claimed the fate of her vehicle from a message saved on my cell phone.
