The Club - Episode 5

Phantasmagoria in several episodes. "You dreamed of being free, I carry you on / There is nothing I desire but to love you / As a storm fills a valley / A fish fills a river / I made you to the measure of my loneliness / A whole world in which to hide." And then he slowly leaned slightly forward, and their lips met in a long and passionate kiss, something like that...

Monta lay in bed, staring blankly out of the window, beyond which the evening had already grown dark, and thought: I'm not going anywhere today. The article has been submitted - formally, there's nothing for me to do there. Monta, satisfied with this well-chosen excuse, curled up like a cat. It was so cosy in this warm room. She heard her husband pottering in the kitchen behind the wall, cooking dinner. Sometimes it comes over him - the hidden culinary talent awakens. And Monta lets him - let him run wild; her element is not the three K's - Kinder, Küche, Kirche.

Last time she had been thoroughly worn out, half-running to keep up with Egils, who had taken her firmly by the hand and kept pulling her further and further into the bustle of the city. Reaching the old town, they stopped at a small café from which came the scent of bitter coffee and freshly baked pastries. Just the spot! - Egils declared and, with the sweeping confidence of a victor, flung open the door. A sharp but pleasant tinkle of a bell rang out, and they were inside. - Let's go to the window! It's free over there.

When both had settled at the tiny table right by the display window, Egils continued with self-satisfaction: - Come on, admit it - this is exactly the kind of place you were dreaming of?! Monta furrowed her brow, remembering the cardinal principle of femininity etiquette - a well-founded compliment is balm for a man's soul - and replied as nonchalantly as possible: - Fishing for compliments? - And then she added caustically: - Come on, admit it - you want to be praised now, don't you?! - The words flowed from her lips, but in Monta's mind blazed the thought of how awful it was - the lad had tried so hard, and in truth this café was a genuine marvel, a place she had genuinely often dreamed of in her mind. It was reminiscent of Montmartre in France and of love. The tiny paintings by unknown artists on the walls, muted music, and the possibility of watching the bustle of the city, which at that moment didn't touch you at all. A dream! And the scent suggested that the coffee here was good.

The spark of enthusiasm in Egils's eyes had vanished and, having cast Monta one deadly glance, he now pretended to study the drinks menu. - What will you have? - Cafe Latte. - Black coffee. - Will that be all? Perhaps I can offer you a dessert? - No. - No, thank you!

The pause grew uncomfortable - at least that was how Monta felt it, right down her spine. - You know, I thought you'd be more interesting - a train-misser, - Egils spoke up, no longer looking at Monta but gloomily watching the passers-by. - Oh, really? - Monta retorted and thought to herself: well, now you reap what you sowed, you'll harvest it yourself now. Unable to think of anything better, Monta suddenly asked: - Have you read Paul Éluard? - Who's that, some scribbler of ladies' romances? - Do I look like someone who reads ladies' romances? - Of course not, you don't! Who is he? - A poet. French. We are in Montmartre, after all, are we not? - a smile disarms, Egils smiled back and Monta continued: - "You dreamed of being free, I carry you on / There is nothing I desire but to love you / As a storm fills a valley / A fish fills a river / I made you to the measure of my loneliness / A whole world in which to hide / Days and nights in which to understand each other / So that in your eyes I might see only / What I think of you / And the world made in your likeness / And the days and nights whose succession your eyelids arrange". I'm trying to be interesting! - They both laughed. Thank God, the tension has passed, - Monta thought. Egils continued in a theatrical but by no means mocking tone: - And then he slowly leaned slightly forward, and their lips met in a long and passionate kiss. - Well, something like that! - Monta snorted with laughter, but inwardly wished she were the girl Egils was imagining, even though in truth there was nothing between them. Just two Club members, colleagues - what else could one call them both?

Kitten, dinner's ready! - her husband leaned in and, ruffling the dishevelled tuft of her hair, kissed Monta on the forehead. Monta felt a certain inward dissatisfaction at being disturbed from her daydream, but obediently got up and headed to the dining room.

To be continued...