Igor

Picture by vaporwavecorp

Midday. Knives and forks and dirty plates and wine glasses. I hear the seagulls flying over the sea, my feet hurt and I clean the coffee machine, an old and tired companion. “Double coffee”, he says. I proceed. He’s a Russian dude that’s sitting in front of the bar. He’s wearing all black. The working day sweat sticks to my skin under my white polo shirt, and only when I bend down and open the little fridge do I feel some cold air on my face. Then I greet an army of little petit fours aligned: half of them are chocolates with a heart of cherry, and the other half are white coconut spheres. Each one of them is carefully placed on a golden crinkly crown, I grab one of each flavor with the metal pincers and I serve them with the coffee.

The dude takes the burning cup and chugs it all at once. “Another one,” he says, and while I prepare it he asks how old I am. Trying my best, I say eighteen in Russian. That seems to lighten up the dude’s mood, and he chugs the second double coffee with a careful smile under his nose.

“So you speak Russian. Very interesting. What do you do in life?” he asks, and I notice I can see his scalp through his thin layer of hair.

“I'm a student”

Silence.

“Yeah”

He takes the chocolate petit four, brings it to his mouth, and begins to chew it with wrinkly paper included. When he notices it, with a gentle movement he takes it out between the two chubby fingers and I feel the anxious need of pretending I didn’t see that. “Another one,” he says. My man here is gonna have a heart attack. He puts his hand inside of his pocket, takes out a black leather wallet and puts it on the bar. He takes out some car keys and places them next to it. Then, he stands up and goes to the bathroom. The two unprotected black shiny objects look at me. But I don’t do anything.

Dude comes back from the bathroom, sits on the stool, and chugs the third coffee.

“Have you ever been to Russia?”.

“No”, I say.

“Would you like to go?”, he asks.

“I would love to. It’s very beautiful”.

Now he sips the last drops of coffee, and he looks at me jokingly. “Wanna go with me?”

I surprise myself by saying “Yes”. He didn’t expect that answer either. He leaves a blue twenty euro bill on the bar, stands up, and invites me to follow him. We walk to the parking lot where Kalilu, the valet, greets us with a blink. He opens the convertible’s door for me, I jump in and we look at each other’s eyes. Dude starts the engine, I untie my hair and I leave it to the wind’s beautiful mercy. He drives in front of the sea and he puts an arm around me. His name is Igor, and he happens to be a nice guy. I have everything I could ever imagine, I taste the refined flavors of the world and I’m venerated like an unexpected gift. I sleep in a silk bed inside a golden mansion that I never have to clean, I spend most of my time reading and enjoying long bubble baths and my biggest concern is choosing the restaurant I’m going to eat in. I have three poodles that fill me with love.

After twelve years of earthly pleasures, I’m thirty and I still look cute. Igor and I come back to the Costa Brava, we’re sailing half-naked enjoying some white wine. My husband smiles at me. He’s not very attractive but he doesn’t ask for much, only a kind companion. I look at the blue waves, I hear seagulls flying over the sea. Life is good.

The sound of the ceramic cup landing again on the counter.

“No, thanks” I say.

“Think about it”, says Igor. And he leaves.

My feet hurt.