The phone shows the date as 01/01/2005 It seems broken to me.
David: Elena, Happy New Year!
Elena: Thanks, you too. Let’s make it a successful one!
David: How are you?
Elena: Meh. I cried a bit today, but I’m feeling better now.
David: What’s bothering you? Can I help?
Elena: Nothing. It just all piled up a little. It’s passed now. How did you celebrate?
David: Marko came over for New Year’s. It was interesting. We drank… now we’ll rarely see each other, so we have to drink more when we do. How about you?
Elena: With my high school friends. It was nice. Although… even though we rarely see each other now, it’s always kind of the same story. You know when you have a tape, and one song ends, and you already know which one will start next? Or when a chorus ends, and you know what verse is coming. The chorus is always the same, but your ear picks up some tiny irregularity in the recording, and you sense which chorus it is and which verse is next. It’s kind of like that. When someone mentions something, you already know how everyone will react and maybe even which story that topic will trigger from someone. That’s it.
Elena: Do you ever cry? Do you sometimes feel like crying?
David: Not really. I don’t even know the last time I cried. Sometimes I feel like crying when I watch Partizan or PAOK, but it’s not too bad—I hold it in.
Elena: That’s such a stupid reason.
David: You’re going to take back what you just said, Elena. You’ll take it back just like you took back recognizing Taiwan.
Elena: Why would I take it back if it’s stupid? People cry for personal reasons; why cry over a club? It’s just a game.
David: It’s not just a game. When the ball gets near our goal, your heart stops for a moment, you stop breathing and freeze. And then, when the goalkeeper saves it or the ball goes wide, you can finally breathe again.
Elena: Does Maxim cry? Have you ever seen him cry?
David: I have, last summer, at Exit festival, during Luna’s concert.
Elena: Really?
David: Yeah.
Elena: See, Max is a much deeper person than you.
David: If it makes you feel better, I’ve been working on our game lately. I’ll send it to you soon to check out. I’m not just stuck playing games. I’m also making a website for Marko’s company. They do security, and the owner is from our origin.
David: The guy who hired Marko is also named Marko. He’s Yugoslav too, but he was born there and can’t speak our language properly. The owner moved there a few years ago. They even made a video ad for the company and professional photos. Marko’s friend doesn’t get why these guys push such a mafia-like image. He says that over there, they promote being approachable and helpful.
David: I told him maybe that works for people looking for security because they feel threatened. It gives them a sense of safety. He said the company doesn’t just do personal security but also secures properties and events. Other companies show how they help find parents if a child gets lost in a shopping mall. He said the security staff at his old job would greet you kindly at the entrance, and he thinks they were just as ready to protect people in case of danger.
David: I told him those folks over there have no clue.
Elena: Haha, true.
Elena: I believe you’re working. I’ve noticed you’re active. I’m making a site too. A grooming salon for pets. Specialized in dog grooming.
David: That’s a thing?
Elena: Yep.
Elena: How are things with your family?
David: Not great.
David: I mean, everything’s fine, but we don’t agree on anything. I don’t know why. How about you?
Elena: Same. I don’t know why either. Maybe it’s our unfinished communist indoctrination. If we had finished school and started working back in that time, we’d understand each other better. We don’t speak the same language.
David: I came up with a plan last night. Something popped into my head.
Elena: I’m already scared.
David: We have a stone from the Acropolis on the shelf in the living room. I’m going to put it back.
Elena: You’re going to return it to Greece? Stop by Skopje for coffee if you’re going soon.
David: Not right away. Someday when I go there.
Elena: Maybe it means something to them. Have you thought about it?
David: Why would it mean anything? It doesn’t belong here. It means nothing here.
Elena: OK, they’ll disown you, and that’s that. Well, you’re an adult. How did the stone even get there?
David: Family secret. I can’t tell you. No one outside the family knows. Unless we get married someday, then you’ll have the right to know.
Elena: So I’d be Mrs. Spaghetti?
David: I’m Spaghetti1 in your phone, aren’t I?
Elena: You were Spaghetti for a long time. Now you’re Beginner Alien. Hahaha
Elena: I’m already cleaning up inline CSS for you; the next thing I know, I’ll be picking up your socks around the house.
David: That’s how you see it…
Elena: Though… I admit, it’s not easy to resist you…
David: It’s not? 🙂
Elena: …when you show up like that…
Elena: With your cactus beard… decorated with crumbs from snacks
Elena: …in slippers with polka dots from paint splatters and the sharp contrast of your tan on your bicep…
Elena: …I mean… where your bicep should be. 🙂
Elena: And you drink Vinjak with cola, shaken, not stirred. A real James Bond for the poor.
Elena: And when you exclaim in surprise, “Oh, bread!”
David: You know, I can’t find anything about you that sounds like that. Anything I don’t like.
Elena: Hmmmm… and what did you say about the stone from the Acropolis? 🙂
David: Dad brought the stone back sometime in ’78. That’s it. I don’t know what made him think of it.
David: I’ve got to go soon. You should hear this…
Elena: There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. I’ve been aware of it for a long time. This just reminded me again.
David: Yeah?
Elena: About us—there’s something about you that suits me most. I should explain it in person. It’s hard like this.
David: Should I just interpret it myself?
Elena: No way, I can’t let you do that. Even a clumsy explanation of mine is better.
David: Alright, go ahead.
Elena: The thing is, you’ve always been able to handle my bad moods. No one else can do that. You’ve always—literally always—made me laugh when I didn’t feel like laughing.
Elena: That’s it… in short. I’ll tell you more in person.
David: I don’t know what to say.
Elena: I’ve sometimes wondered if our partners will tolerate, or even understand, how you and I function.
Elena: Stefan isn’t jealous, but he doesn’t know everything. He knows we’re good friends, but if he, for instance, read everything I’ve written to you about how I see you, I don’t think he’d be entirely okay with it. But he can’t see anything in my behavior.
Elena: Are you still there?
David: I am. In my thoughts. I have no words. We’ll see each other soon.
Elena: What did you want me to hear? I interrupted you.
I was about to say I need to pick up the security door Yanko ordered and that I have to leave the apartment soon. If I’ve managed to cheer up Elena, it’s better not to start that story.
David: I forgot what I wanted to say, Elena. You’ve confused me. 🙂
Elena: Alright, go then.
David: I’m going. See you.
Elena: See you.
David: Love you.
Elena: Are you strengthening our friendship with these statements today?
David: I don’t love you. See you. 🙂
Elena: See you. 🙂
David: Don’t worry. It’s solid. I’ll listen to you completely. She’s a great girl. Speaks well. From Novi Sad, or at least currently she lives here. It’ll all be fine. I’m working on it. I really like her. I dreamed about her. Gotta go now, really. I’m off.
Elena: You stupid jerk, if you leave now.
David: I really have to. Bye. Not loving you.
Yanko wants to install a secure door on the upper floor of his house. It’s the house where his parents spend part of the year. It’s about an hour or hour and a half drive from Banja Luka. They spent some time there during the war, when they first fled from Zadar, before moving to Veternik. Nearby is the house of a deceased relative of Yanko’s father. His family was murdered during lunch at their table—no one was spared. This happened before the war officially began, before most people even realized a war was coming. Someone came in and shot them all.
Yanko is afraid that someone might think of doing something similar now. These days, the nights are probably more dangerous. He’s thought about all the possibilities for defending against such an attack. The front door can be strong, but someone could enter through a broken window on the ground floor. On the upper floor, the rooms can have strong doors, but someone could easily get in through the balcony. Only one room upstairs has no balcony—that’s where they sleep. He tasked me with finding an iron door in Banja Luka that, when closed, embeds three iron bolts into the top and bottom frame, and six into the side. Such a door should hold for at least half an hour. Until the police sirens are heard. People in that area live with the awareness that such things are possible.
Elena sent another message on chat.
Elena: I forgot to tell you, about that mafia-like image. Lazar and Marin like it too. And Yanko, more and more, since they’ve started hanging out intensely again. They’re fascinated by it. Have you noticed?
1“Spaghetti code” – that is how developers describe unreadable, low quality code.
