Shaken Like Green Leaves In The Water

A short story

It had been a good day so far. We sat in the park between two large, old oak trees and drank red wine from a plastic bottle we had bought from a shop the Czechs call vinotéka. I had never drank wine from a tap before and it was awfully cheap but it did the job. It was a good drunk, the one that makes you feel weightless and young. She sat there with her hands in the grass and watched the other people. She was laughing, but I didn’t know about what. The black dress looked good on her, but so would have a colored one, and her dark green painted fingernails matched her green- brownish eyes.
“Is this your first time in Brno?” she asked.
“Yes, it reminds me of France.”
“Do you like it?”
“More than France.”
“I like it as well, it’s nice in summer.”
“That means I came too early?”
“You came on the right day,” she said.
“But it could be better?”
“It’s the right day,” she assured me.
“It’s a good day, right?”
She handed me the bottle, we didn’t want to make too much of it, and watched the people in the park some more. Through the shaking bushes, I could see a café.
I couldn’t make out the name, but I saw people sitting at tables, and some others collecting napkins from the floor. I heard Jazz music but it was hard to hear through the rattling of the branches.
“We should go see the band play,” I said.
“I like it here,” she answered.

“Don’t you want to listen?”
“It’s nice here”. She reached for the bottle, and as she stretched out her arm, the sleeve of her dress slid back, revealing more of her skin.
“You’ve got goosebumps,” I noticed.
“It’s the wine. The wine is bitter.”
“I’ve had south-Moravian wine before, it was sweeter than this one.”
“I don’t know much about it” she shrugged. “But how could Brno possibly be better than France?” “France has jumped the shark. This place feels unique, there aren’t many places left in the world that have a soul.”
“It does have a charm to it, I’ll give you that.”
“Not much charm left in Paris, I tell you.”
“Where else have you been?”
“Portugal.”
A man was walking along the graveled path with his head bent down and a beer in his hands.
“Do you think he’s lonely?” I asked her.
“Maybe he is searching for something.”
“He won’t find answers by staring at his feet.”
“Maybe he is looking for ground.”
He passed us and went out of sight. “Where did all the people go?” I asked.
“We all got to go somewhere.”
“I think the music stopped, maybe they moved the band inside,” I said.
“I think I can still hear it. Where are you going next?” she asked me.
“I’d like to have my own bed for once, you know? Stay in one place. What about you?”
“Actually, I’m leaving for France soon.”
“To do what?”
“I found a job, as an editor for a magazine in Bordeaux.”

“I thought Brno is nice in summer?”
“It certainly is.”
I took another sip of the wine, and I knew, that once she would be settled in France, she wouldn’t come back. She tried to light a cigarette but couldn’t.
“I think the lighter is empty,” she said.
“What did you mean with looking for ground?” I asked her.
“We’re all looking for something, no?”
“What are you looking for?”
“Someone with a lighter.”
I grabbed into the pockets of my trench coat and offered her mine. She turned around and placed her hand in front of the fire. The smoke puffed through her fingers, but the cigarette went out again as soon as she turned around.
“Maybe you should stop smoking, it’s not good for you.”
“What are you looking for?” She asked, still working on the cigarette.
“Ground, I guess.”
“You’re looking up to the sky too much.”
“And yet, I’m sitting, am I not?”
“You chose the right day,” she said.
“It is a good day. We could go to that café and have a drink there,” I suggested.
“We’ll finish the bottle first. Why did you come to Brno in the first place?”
“I’m on my way to Vienna.”
“So you have a connecting train?”
“Yes, in the evening.”
“You’re from Vienna?”
“From the most western part of Austria.” I didn’t need my sunglasses anymore, so I put them into the inner pocket of my coat. “I think we should go,” I said.
“It feels good to me.”

It didn’t feel good to me anymore, but maybe it should have, so I said nothing.
“We can wait a bit more,” she said.
“We can wait if you want to wait.”
“Do you want to go?” She asked, and started packing her things, I held her arm and sat her back down.

“It’s ok if you want to stay, I want to stay as well.” “It’s a good day,” she said.
“It has been so far.”
“What do you like about Brno?”

“I like the old colorful houses, and the cobblestone streets, and I had fun at the market, listening to the people trading loudly in a language I don’t understand. I like that you’re showing me everything, I’ve had enough of traveling on my own.”
“And you don’t want to go back to the most western part of Austria?” she asked me. I didn’t want to talk about it. “Do you think it will be over soon?”

“I hope so.”
“How long will you be in Vienna?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I should go with you,” she smiled. “Would be nice.”
“You should,” I answered and thought about how nice that would be. I looked up to the crown of the tree left to us. “Maybe we should sit under one of the trees” I noted. “How did it change so quickly?” “Nothing lasts forever.”
“Why was there a crocodile hanging from the ceiling?” I asked.
“I’m not sure anybody knows.”
She took the last sip from the wine and wiped away the red wine stains on her lips. I closed the buttons on my coat.
“We can go now,” she said.
“We can stay if you want to stay.”

“You’re uneasy.”
“So, are you coming with me to Vienna?” I asked her.
“It would be nice surly.”
We walked along the gravel road, next to a small pond, where the water was covered with young, green leaves that had fallen from the surrounding trees.
“Look how many” She pointed to the pond. “How did they get there?”
“The same way as we got there” I answered. “Should we go to that Café?”
“I know a better place, it’s close, but we can go to this one if you want”
“You’re the local, you know best,” I said.
“I’m not sure if we can make it.”
“Why not?”
“You seem uneasy.”
“I’m ok, I would’ve liked to see the band, but I certainly don’t need to.”
“You came on the right day.”
“I’m not so sure anymore, maybe I should’ve come here in summer.”
“You’re uneasy.”
“I’m ok.”
“I can leave you on your own if you don’t like my company,” she said, sounding upset.
“I don’t want you to leave, everything is all right, you can be sure of it.”
“I’m not sure no, should I go?”
“No, you’re great, c’mon.”
“It has been a good day so far,” she said. “Let’s get a drink.”

A small wooden bridge led over a narrow creek, the water was fast, troubled, muddy, and brown and the bridge was slippery. It was getting hard to see because my coat didn’t have a hood. I now felt goosebumps on my skin as well.
“I don’t know where to go,” she shouted.

“I thought you live close,” I shouted back.
I could barely hear her answering “I do!” because of the noise that surrounded us. “Then you should know where to go.”
“I can’t see! It all looks the same, I’m too drunk, Ježíši Kriste!”
“We should’ve left earlier,” I shouted back.
“You should’ve come here in summer”
“Then we wouldn’t have met.”
“Let's go hide under the tree.”
It was better underneath the tree, we could keep our heads up and our eyes open.
“I want another cigarette” She grabbed her black bag and took out the wet, crushed cigarette pack. I gave her the lighter and she went as close as possible to the tree. The cigarette wouldn’t catch fire. “And you’re definitely leaving?” I asked her.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you buy the plane tickets?”
“Not yet, but I’m going to.”
“Then you’re not coming to Vienna with me.”
“Probably not.”
“I think this would be the right day to stop smoking.”
“It has been too good of a day.” She tried another one and she could light it. “Come closer,” She said. I got closer and she leaned her head against me. I could feel the weight on my chest, and it felt good and warm.
“We can go to the café, where the band is playing, the one you wanted to go to in the first place,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“They mix good drinks.”
“I’d like to get a drink.” It had been too good of a day to feel sober again.
“We’ll wait it out.”

“Are you cold?” I asked her.
“I’m ok. Do you mind the smoke?”
“I don’t mind it.”
“Why do you want me to quit then?”
“It’s not good for you.”
She looked up at me, wanting to be kissed, so I kissed her and pulled her closer, so I could feel her warm body.
“How did we start talking?” she asked me with a smile on her face.
“I asked you where I can find the restaurant.”
“Why did you ask me that?”
“I had trouble finding it.”
“Did you ask anyone before me?”
“No.”
“What did I say?”
“I’m just going there, follow me, you said.”
“What happened then?”
And then we walked around the corner, and through the small door I had overlooked, and she made fun of me for having missed it. We ordered beers, and then two more, and we forgot about the food but left, and she showed me the crocodile that was hanging from the ceiling in the passage, and then we left for the park, bought the wine, and sat between the trees in the freshly cut grass.
“See, you came on the right day,” she now said.
“It is a damn good day.”
“Did you just see the branch falling on the ground?” she asked me frightenedly.
“I saw it.”
“It was heavy, I’m scared.”
“It’ll be over soon, I can see it.”

“How?” She looked at me confused. I could see in her eyes that she was still feeling the wine. “It’s getting better,” I pointed to where the clouds were opening up.
“We should go now,” she said.
“We can wait just a little while.”

“Aren’t you cold?”
“You’re warming me.”
“Let’s get a drink.”
“One, two, three!” she shouted. We ran, and I stepped into a puddle of water and felt my feet getting wet. It was still hard to see, but the café had white walls, a big wooden roof, and it was not to be overlooked. We entered and saw that the band was just packing up their instruments, and the people were returning to their seats. There were no empty tables, but we could sit at the bar. She ordered two whisky sour, I didn’t know if they could speak English, so I kept quiet.

She gave me the tumbler and laughed: “You picked a strange day to come here” “It’s a good day.”
“Certainly,” She insisted.
“It is a perfect day, all right.”

“And you’re perfectly strange,” she laughed. “Tell me about Portugal”
“I liked the town of Peniche. I sat by the cliffs every evening and watched the waves crash against them. Hard and cruel and with much force.”
“How did the waves look?”
“White like the harsh summits of the Austrian Alps.”
“So you’ve been to the Alps as well?”
“Sure.”
“And how were the Alps?”
“Lonely,” I did not want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about how Angela broke up with me on that trip, hard and cruel. “And you’re determined to take this job?” I said, wanting to change the subject.

“I am, but how do you feel now?” She asked.
“I feel shaken like the green leaves in the water.”
“Like waves crashing against the cliffs?”
“No, it’s different.”
“You’re uneasy.”
I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about the fact that I wanted her to stay with me, even though I didn’t really know her.
“Are you not having a good day with me?” she asked.
“It’s great, really great, such a great day,” I assured her. “How long do you want to stay in Bordeaux?”
“Why did you say that then?” She insisted.
“It’s nothing, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Who shook you into the water? Who took your ground?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” I looked into my glass, the drink was almost empty, there was only a last, almost translucent sip on the bottom.
It was Angela who took my ground. After she left me, I traveled through Europe, and now I landed here, like a leaf in the water, but I liked it, and I liked her.
“Would you go to the Přehrada with me?”
She smiled. “Of course, I would.”
“And drink good, South-Moravian wine with me?”
“I’d love to.”
“And would you watch the sunrise with me up on Špilberk?”
“I used to do it every morning.”
“Maybe on another day?”
“Jasné,” she smiled warmly. “Sure.”
The barkeeper took our glasses. “Ještě jedno?”
“Ano, prosím,” she said, then turned back towards me.

I felt drunk again and I felt like getting out of the muddy waters, and down from the lonely mountain. “What if I don’t go to Vienna?” I asked her. Why should I be in Vienna when I was enjoying Brno just as much and could be with her, and have good South Moravian wine?
“Maybe tomorrow will be an even better day.”

“It was a good day so far already,” I said.
“It had been a good day, yes” and I thought about all the other good days I’d like to have with her, and get to know her, and be as close to her as we had been underneath the tree, in the pouring rain, and in the howling wind, and those days would be even better, because we wouldn’t need to pretend.
“And you’re leaving for France next week?”
“Yes,” she said, “maybe.”