But a different taste could be found at a small restaurant, where its chef does his cooking for the sake of it. Therefore, if one is not sophisticated, curious, and open-minded, they could easily be impressed by a generic burger or a generic art. As the poor guy at the burger chain restaurant said, “This is the best day of my life.” Therefore, I take back what I said earlier. It’s not the weed that makes this amazing. It’s them doing it for the sake of it.
I’m impossibly blessed to be here, sitting with them, enjoying their original creations. Even if their performance is mediocre, their art is stunning. I wish the little guy could see me analyzing this without him and how far I went down looking for the truth without getting too complex. That complexity made me create an imaginary person to separate my curiosity from me, as I tended to mock myself about my essays and finally shame and bully myself into stopping writing.
But, not anymore, and it feels liberating. As much I miss him, I’m just as much happy he is not around anymore.
A month passed and I started to get used to my routine, suddenly I didn’t care much about the quality of the food as long as it is healthy, of my clothes too as long as they are clean. The chief came to check on me that morning “Con how are you?”
“Not bad at all chief, how about you?”
“Very good” with a smile “There is an empty house if you are still interested, the family that was renting it, went back to the civilization”
“Do I still need a woman to be there?”
“Or a man, but Yes you do” then was silence and he continued “she didn’t come isn’t”
“No she didn’t”
“Did she promise you”
“She did but there were different circumstances” I replied
“There are many women here that would like to be with someone, think about it” he said that with a smile then left. What a good man I thought, came all this way to give me some advice.
After three months, I started to trade wood for all sorts of things. People knew me as I was expanding my circle outside my neighborhood. My earlier life seemed to me like a memory as I thought that I am in a rebirth state now. I started to enjoy it somehow, the simplicity of the everyday routine.
I did go positively about my own existence. My mind avoided thinking about sad things or over-calculating the future. Automatically, the space around me was owned, and I no longer felt like an intruder. Spending some nights outside watching the stars, and in the early morning, hiding to spot rare birds before cutting the trees, I felt positive about everything, including about Dismar. I hoped he was doing well. I thought about my childhood friend, Jazir, and how much I was proud of him and hoped that he made it out alive, but I missed her badly.
A year and a half passed. The chief was very sick and probably knew that he wouldn’t make it much longer. Most everyone voted for me as he suggested that I will be the one to replace him. I didn’t mind. We buried him in the cemetery next to the river. I really liked that guy. I wish I had more time to have known him better.
At his office, I had access to the telegraph, I also had access to his drawers with all the telegraphs that Dismar sent to me and the chief had been hiding from me. He had been isolated on his island, and they confiscated his boat. That’s why he never showed up. He was sorry, but overall he was fine
The last letter from him was dated a week ago. He was angry that I never contacted him back. He said that this is his last letter, and that he just wanted to inform me that he had a newborn, baby girl…I wish I knew the chief better, that’s for sure… What a son of a bitch!
I also found a telegraph that I suspected to be from her, sent a year and a half ago, the first week I arrived. It read, “I hope this will get to you. I am fine. I need to see you.”
I’m almost sure that was her. She is not the kind that’s overly talkative – but then again, maybe not. Maybe this is my miserable, lonely existence that still forces me to believe in her. Maybe I didn’t know her well. Maybe she used me all these years. If she knew how to send this telegraph, then she knew that I was here, so why hadn’t she come? A million questions swirled around in my head, begging for answers.
I took the telegraph and read it a hundred times, naively thinking that we still have a special relationship. I felt this is not me anymore but a decayed image of myself, just like the paintings of the artist. I have faded into a reduced person, a simple, average man without a purpose or a goal, waiting for a queen to find him.
What a joke…
Days passed… Then one day, I was coming back from the forest at sunset, slowly touching the tall grass with my fingers. I suddenly felt a calm breeze. I suddenly stopped, and a déjà vu feeling came over me. Someone screamed my name, “Konu!”
I looked up the hill, and there she was, waving at me – Oina.
