Late Summer Love By Bobby
Part 1
The concert was fantastic. The way the lady played was phenomenal. I was absolutely amazed. This was the third concert of her I visited and it was even better than her previous performances. After the last applause I headed to the backstage to give her a bouquet of flowers. She deserved a really big bunch of flowers. I loved her music, I admired her mastery, and I liked her very much. She was tall, with dark brown hair and she had a very nice figure. Moreover, and it was important for me, she wore glasses. And I have always been fond of women with glasses. Her lenses must have been quite strong because I could see the fronts of the lenses flashing in the lights when she was playing. So, no wonder I hurried to the lobby and to the backstage door to give her my present and thank her.
However, first I should tell you why I came to her first concert and how I had ended up in the little town where it took place.
My name is Jerzy Kowalski. Well, it is not my real name. There is a reason I am not going to tell you my real name. Actually, I am not allowed to tell you any of the names I used during the the 30 years of my adult life.
When I was young I studied linguistics. I have had a talent for languages. I learned several languages including Arabic, Amharic, and Hebrew, and I was quite good at some European languages, too. My major were Semitic languages, and Islamic culture. The last year I was at the university, a man from one of the secret services contacted me to offer me a job. They needed polyglots. They offered me some special courses, political science, extreme national and religious movements, and stuff like that. I also had the military physical trainings. All the studies and my job for the government deprived me of time to find a steady girlfriend let alone to marry. Then, I was sent abroad … I cannot go into many details.
After several years of my service abroad I got disclosed. It took two months till I was rescued by Special Forces. Those were the worst two months in my life. The results were bad. A fatwa was issued on me, and I had psychological problems as a result of my imprisonment. My commanding officer made a radical decision. I was mustered out and given a new identity. It meant I got a new name, new papers, new look, and a new place to live – or better to say a place the hide. My naturally raven black hair was re-dyed light brown. A little plastic surgery changed the shape of my nose. I was given dioptric glasses, too. They were quite strong and tinted to hide my eyes. To see clearly through them I need to wear contact lenses. The power of the contact lenses and the power of the lenses in my glasses are carefully calculated and tested to give me clear vision. When I saw myself in a mirror after all the alterations I got shocked. I looked very different and visually impaired. Anytime I want to go out of my flat I have to put the contact lenses in and wear the glasses. At first it was rather tricky to handle the small pieces of silicon, and wearing the strong glasses was a nuisance. Ironically, I have always fancied women with glasses, even women with strong glasses. Now, I had to wear strong glasses myself and it felt quite unpleasant. It was really uncomfortable for several months. It took some to get used to wearing the contact lenses and glasses. Everything was smaller. My field of vision was good, and thanks to my special training I maintained very large peripheral vision. I looked disabled, but in fact I had a 20/20 vision. Then it became a daily routine. Since the day I was fitted with the first supply of the lenses and a set of various glasses, nobody has ever seen me bare-eyed.
A new place to live was chosen. It was a small country in central Europe, the Czech Republic. As I was fluent in Polish, the Czech language was easy to learn for me as those western Slavic languages are closely related. I had decent money from the government of my mother country, but still I decided to have a job, because one cannot live without a meaningful work. So, there I was in a little town of Telch, a teacher of mathematics at the local elementary school, a man in mid-forties with thick glasses, a Polish name, a slight Polish accent, and fabricated life story. I lived alone and kept very few social contacts for several years to keep myself safe. Fatwa is no fun. Keeping low profile is a necessity.
Now, let us go back to the evening I started with to tell my story.
I got the ticket for the first concert from a colleague of mine. She could not go because her child got ill, so she sold me her ticket. It was worth the money. A lady played cello. The pretty brunette, bespectacled, mid-thirties musician brightened my rather boring life in that godforsaken town.
A few months later, I saw a poster advertising another concert. It was as good as the first one. At the end of summer the third concert was arranged. That was the time I bought the flowers. I was waiting at the door to the backstage. People were slowly leaving the hall. After a few minutes the door opened and the cellist went out. She was carrying a case with her instrument over her shoulder and a small gillyflower in her hand.
“Ms Pinkas, please, I would like to …” I started.
She turned to me. I could she see was very pretty. I liked her Greek nose and full lips. And I liked her glasses. From close distance it was quite obvious they were much stronger than mine. Her lenses had small circles in the centre and the fronts were dished, too.
“Yes?” she said and squinted.
I murmured the phrase of thanks and handed her the flowers. She smiled.
“What a surprise! Thank you!” While she was looking at me, her eyes were moving quickly from left to right. “Do I know you?”
I introduced myself.
She smelled the roses. Then she looked at me once more. I noticed the movement of her eyes behind the thick glasses again.
“You are the maths teacher, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Did you enjoy the concert?”
“Yes, I did. Actually, I have enjoyed three of your concerts in six months.”
“Do you like Kodaly?”
Kodaly was a name of a composer. I knew the name from the poster, and that was really all I knew about the man, but I said I did love Kodaly. I said I loved Hindemith when she asked, although I did not know who he was. I would have said I loved Saddam Hussein if she had asked, only because I wanted to have a reason to stay a little longer with her. We chatted for a while; then the personnel started switching the lights off. It was time to go.
I am not quite sure how it happened, because I was surprised at her willingness to talk to me and I got charmed by her full alto voice… Well, it just happened. I offered her my arm and we were walking along the street, talking. I was carrying the case with her cello and she was holding the roses and gillyflowers in her other hand. There was a wine hall in the street. When we were passing by she looked at the door. So, I asked her if we could… She did not let me finish the sentence. We went in.
Lea Pinkas was fascinating. Over a glass of wine she started taking again.
“I am seldom given flowers here in Telch.” She said nostalgically. “I am given flowers in Prague at every concert, but not here.” Her eyes were blinking.
“You deserve them. You make this little town better with your music.”
“I was born here. My parents still live here. So, I play several times a year for free at the Castle Hall.”
I was listening quietly admiring her face with strong glasses.
“The concerts are arranged by the mayor, who is my school mate from the elementary school, and the gillyflower is from the town hall. It is usually my only reward.” She smiled again. “And suddenly this!” She put her hands on both sides of the bouquet as if she wanted to embrace it.
“You’ve made my day.”
“You’ve made my day.”
We started laughing.
Then she asked about my life and about my job. I could not tell her the truth about my previous life. My previous real life was top secret. But, I had an elaborate legend that explained my Polish accent, my teaching career, and the lack of any relatives. Everything was carefully prepared by my former employer, the secret service. So, it was not a problem for me to talk about “my life”. I did not dare to ask her about her glasses. It was obvious she had a kind of serious condition. Her pupils were literally dancing from side to side even when she was looking straight at me. The glasses were thick. The lenses were set in a very modern small frames and the central circle showed her dark eyes while the sides of the lenses brought a blurry, distorted image of her skin and eyelashes. I liked her very much.
We left the wine hall before midnight. I offered her my arm again.
“I live in house number 7 in Mlynska street, past the gate.” she said simply.
It was not very far. I knew the cobbled narrow street. While we were walking she was holding my arm firmly like an old friend. I found it very pleasant. In front of her parent’s house, we said one another good night. I watched her opening the door. Then she disappeared in the dark hall. Back home, I could not stop thinking about her. I took my contact lenses out to give my eyes a rest –it is important for my eyes – and made a simple late supper in the microwave oven. Lea’s image remained in my mind all the evening. Late night I was browsing Internet to find information about Kodaly and his music.
to be continued