CHAPTER 6
Unforeseen circumstances
She reached canal footpath looking for the keys his half-drunk husband had lost whilst doing “Number one”. Where he might have lost them- she wondered, looking all around among the bushes, on the ground, everywhere for a half an hour except, the running water which was out of reach. Her husband – Herman stooped and aggressively continued the search without a success, 15-20 meters away from her, checking the lawn in the dark with his dirty fingers and swearing in Latvian ,each time his hands touched something palpable and badly smelling.
“Shit! I Cant do it anymore.” – he stood up and shouted at hour wife tired of searching , like it was Flora, to blame for lost keys. It had been in his nature to always to shift the responsibility to someone else.
An hour ago Herman and Flora were on their way to home, after birthday party in suburban district of Jurmala, driving as fast as a rocket, alongside the canal, which was old and rarely used by residents of capital city, but most frequently used by pik-nikers and late time lovers. 2-3 km to the north of highway juncture, he had spotted a traffic police car and therefore decided to park the car behind the high rising tree, for not drawing attention and eventually get busted for intoxicated driving.
“Ok..There always must be solution. I have an idea. I have 2 spare keys, one of which is in my office , on my desk , behind family picture frame, another one in the house. I’ve expensive equipment inside trunk, so one of us goes, one of us stays. Your call”
“I’d rather stay. You go take a cab nearby and rush to your office before I get killed from exposure. Hurry. I’ll stay inside the car. Its getting cold out here.”
“Ok… 30 minutes tops. Sorry for inconvenience darling.”
He had his hood on, pulled the laces of dark black inspector boots until the knot is tight, gave himself good slap on right and left cheek, as to somehow curb the pressure of alcohol and hit the road running - to the surprise of his own wife – who had known him for almost a decade and never seen him so resilient.
“Don’t turn the lights on cos I don’t wanna see you in the dark…” - he sang his favorite song by Cromea as he was running alongside dark and vacant road with no lights inside, to cheer himself.
Running to fast took his breath away, but he was satisfied with distance he closed so far, after he turned back to check the progress. He wished he had ultimate running sneakers instead of black classic boots he wore for the party. His ears caught hardly audible dim noise within surrounding woods, sounds of young blood joy rather than a scream or outcry for help, as he stopped to give his overheated lungs a break. Some kind of late time orgy or something his thought, “freaken young generation,,, no taste in music… no good way for passing time. Just chatting-cheating-fu…ing- with all its supplements”
His eyes blistered as he saw a car with headlights on coming towards him .
God, let it be a tax, let it be a taxi, let it be a taxi.
Monday is not so unlucky day after all. Pale yellow color made him so optimistic that day.
“45 Soborsky street, please hurry. I lost my car keys so wife waits inside the car, near the canal.”
*** *** ***
He was standing at the window quietly but angrily staring at the laserlight billboard advertising useless toothpaste, with its tricky subliminal messages hidden behind toothbrush curves similar to female sexual organ, then shifting his gaze on to a Afghan migrant merchant selling various fallalery or junk jewelry in the alley, yet unable to forgive himself for a mistake made a year ago, that eventually lead unforeseen circumstances and breaking of love bonds between Flora and himself. He longed to be in bed, to close his eyes, leep off all bad memories related to night his wife was gang-raped, after he had left her alone near the irrigation canal.
“Is it your final decision, ha. You cannot take that horrible day, out of your mind, can you? But I love you Herman, you know it. I wish we had a child, so to somehow relieve this pain of ours. It is neither your nor mine fault, for God’s sake stop blaming yourself. All those freaks are now behind the bars.”
He tried many times, but felt so humiliated for himself and her wife who’d been stigmatized by local community like she was some kind of prostitute rather than gang rape victim. They moved to another street, another block, but all was in vain. He felt like his personality diminished to microscopic ranges for failing as man to protect his woman.
“Nop, Flora. I did my best, you did your best. Lets not deceive ourselves, its stalemate situation, that I can’t let go on. You were right saying “if we had a child”. But unfortunately we haven’t, ‘cos I’m f…en infertile shooting blanks, I’m no man, I’m fu..en loser and moron, - he hit his forehead on to the window pane. God, what was I thinking that night leaving you alone. God damn that day, God damn Mondays.”
Flora stood up from the edge of bed, approached him to somehow comfort his husband, but after her lips landed on his right cheek, out of a sudden sustain massive slap from Herman that hit her nose, made her bleed. They both were standing numb, unable to move and not seeing but hearing every drop of blood fall onto floor, giving out irritating noise.
When he returned his face to the window, and apologized silently, Flora was already on her way to the door, wiping her nose with blood soaked dollar, as she could not find any napkin or cloth.
He saw her downstairs hastily running toward taxi on the other side of street, his heart pumping harder with every step she take. After cab vanished from view, something caught his eye that he could not ignore. It was another billboard, no painting or illustration just bold font ad, must had been installed hours before, cos looked so fresh.
“DONORS WITHOUT BORDERS”
Donate your post-mortem organs and get €50,000 cash instead…, Organ donation and transplantation save the lives of between 40 - 100 people in Latvia annually. By donating your organs, you could save the lives of up to 3 people who are in end-stage organ failure.