Readers write: Adventurer

Prologue. A break. Introduction. Insight.

I chop the onion and simmer. I revolve around the board in rhythm, left, left, right, right. I’m not crying. Onions are never an excuse for that. Phone rings, unknown number. The oil is overheating, the music is too loud.

“Good afternoon,” says Woman With Two Surnames. I know the other one, her husband has it too. Which is why I’m screaming.

“I can’t now, but I’ll check, so I’ll let you know,” I replied in the tone of a convicted salesman in a purchasing department.

I take off my apron, put on my sneakers.

“I need more onions,” I say.

“Did you say something?” The head of the Man I Live With peeks out from behind the monitor.

“Nothing. I will come now. “

It’s good that it’s winter, I may not pass out. Seven on a bench in front of the building. I’m dialing a number. He may hate me, but I don’t want to be a coward.


Do you like flashbacks in a movie? Yes.

I’m coming back from the bank. I applied for a loan and hoped to be able to refresh my small business. The clerk who spoke to me said that everything was fine and that she really liked the idea I presented to her. She also asked me something personal, like – if her brother wanted to publish a book. I reckon – everything will be fine.

The day is June, still tame, it has not been hit by tropical heat. In the bus, with one hand I hang on the bar, with the other I type a message to a business partner. It should be something new, which is why I am looking for a loan, to start together, in addition to what we usually cooperate in.

I’m thinking about lunch. Should I continue to the Zemun market or buy everything I need in Maxi across the building? It is closer and easier.

The answer is coming.

“I’m on the quay. He took a break of about ten minutes. I stare at the boat that says ‘Adventurer’ and I think of You. “

I remember that at the last meeting we recounted some of the jokes from that children’s show.

I ask him: “Is it because of me or because of me An adventurer?And I think: Let’s just say it’s because of “Adventurers”, don’t be transparent.

And something trembled in the bottom of my stomach. I feel my buttocks tighten and my breasts grow. It wouldn’t be right if it were the other way around.

The answer comes quickly. There is no such uncertainty as when I ask my husband: “When are you going home, not to heat this anymore?”

“Because of you,” he says. “I think it would be wonderful to sail somewhere with you.”

I put the phone back in my bag. I’m still hanging.

Pathetic, then.

Those who hang out usually don’t ask themselves anything anymore – but…

I know what I look like. I am one of those to whom they say: “Come on, you don’t have that much… I wouldn’t give you more than thirty-five!” But it’s not because I’m slender and tight, but because my eyes are laughing. And because I can make people laugh. And they laughed benevolently. I have almost ten kilos of excess and almost as much lack of self-confidence. If self-confidence is measured in kilograms. And if it is measured in years… I am already retired.

Although I am (only) forty-six, I don’t think anything can surprise me anymore. I tried everything. And to get married for the first time. And to get a divorce. And to get married another time. I tried not to be, romantic, because I wasn’t. It means nothing to me. Nobody proposed to me. We made a deal.

When I got married for the first time, since he transferred to me that I had scheduled a wedding, and he hadn’t bought pants yet. When, after enough years, I married someone else, you thought that passion was enough to deceive hunger. We made love helplessly, until the TV became a hearth, until dinner became a consolation, not an introduction to a sleepless night.

I take the phone out of my bag.

I ask him, “Would you like some coffee?”

Is there anything more harmless than coffee? Well, we’ve been drinking coffee at least three times so far and our tongues are slipping out of stories about plans and business deals.

The last time we saw each other, we signed something. Yeah, well, He. And there was no promise: until death do us part. It was: …and the Commercial Court in Belgrade is competent for all disputes…

Then, I was desperate. I left the apartment with the intention of never returning. I cried. I had the classic “woeful eyes”. I was without makeup. Check, and when am I wearing makeup at all ?! In the dress in which I perform the puppies. I had a stamp in my purse, I needed an excuse to go somewhere and I said, “Okay, now I’m going to come and verify that…”

It was two weeks ago, sort of.

Today… I honestly didn’t even put the phone back in my bag and He says, “I will.”

We can easily agree on where.


You would recognize someone who will not be your lover, right? Easier than the one who wants to. The one who won’t – he would have a tummy, he would look at you like a professor, through glasses, he would have short fingers on his hands.

I ask him, “What is this?”

He says, “I don’t know.”

It’s like he has 43 teeth, I think. His smiling mouth is so big.

He has a stain on his pants. It bothers me. I feel like asking him what’s wrong with him.

Last night’s Eurovision winner is smiling bearded from the screen in a cafe. He likes it all. I think: If Conchita is ok with him, then there is nothing that cannot fit in his head.

I’m glad.

I’m still not thinking about how to unbutton the other button on his shirt. I rub everything about myself. It’s like I’m in a job interview. In fact, in a job interview I would be more careful: I wouldn’t say I even sleep with socks on my feet in the summer.

We talk in stories.

I say that words are everything to me. And how I have a friend with whom I stopped hanging out because she sent me illiterate messages.

Stop smiling, I’ll fall in love…I beg him inwardly.

“It’s funny to me,” he says, “how many times have I read that e-mail of yours š do you remember… when I was in Novi Sad, so you told me that…? Well, that’s when I tried to find the mistake. Something… And he thought: she’s awful, the same me… “

He stops laughing.

“Everything will be fine,” he says.

And I know that, without touching, we crossed a border, because you don’t say something like that to anyone when something is good.

The phone goes crazy in my bag. I fell out of the daily rut. The phone knows. Like the one I’m dialing on.

We’re breaking up. He strictly left, I strictly right. At least we didn’t shake hands. We go down the same street, in different directions. He waves at us like we’re crazy.

I sleep over (it).

In the morning I listen to Kristina Kovač and “Kolena”. I write to another how my legs are like broken, not just kneeling.

Another tells me: “Ask him what he thinks about Conchita. If it passes… “


Author of the text: Katarina M.

Source: Sito&Rešeto by

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