Chapter 19
Maya
Even though I've only been away for a few days, coming back to the cramped apartment feels unfamiliar. Weary, I step into the hallway, set down my travel bag, and close the door behind me.
"I'm back," I call out into the silence of the shared flat.
Within seconds, Elina storms out of her room and throws her arms around me. There's a hint of disinfectant scent surrounding her. "Welcome back," she says, beaming with joy, then she leads me into our only communal area—the kitchen.
"I want to know everything." Elina joins me at the square kitchen table, holding a selection of subtly colored nail polishes. She hands me the small bottles and places her hands flat on the table.
There's no need for her to ask me to do her nails. There's hardly anything I enjoy more. "Shell pink?"
She nods, then looks at me expectantly. "Go ahead."
Seeing her excitement, I can't help but grin. "It was amazing." I don't even know where to begin with my stories. Should I talk about the herds of sheep calmly blocking the narrow country roads? Or the endless expanse of the ocean and the feeling of humility that naturally arises when standing on the towering cliffs where the waves crash? Or the countless shades of green that merge into a single radiant symphony in Josh's eyes?
"Earth to Pippi." Elina's hand is suddenly right in front of my face. Her fingers snap several times. "Not just dreaming about it but also talking about it."
I unscrew the nail polish bottle, carefully wipe off the brush on the edge of the bottle, and place it on Elina's fingernail. The pungent smell of the polish fills my nose. "What interests you the most?"
"Of course, what makes you glow like that." There's a hint of sensation-seeking in her tone.
"Oh yes, Sophia was amazing. With each passing day, she opened up a little more. We became a team." Now, we just need Josh to join our community. I don't know how I'll make it happen, but it's so important for both of them, so I'll have to come up with something.
"Yes, exactly. Sophia." Elina shakes her head amusedly. "She's definitely the reason for your good mood."
Of course. What else could it be?
Unfazed, I finish painting her pinky nail and move on to the ring finger.
I notice that she can hardly keep her hands still. "And how was it with the hot pianist?"
"Come on, he's not that hot. Besides, he's my boss." And I stay away from men as a matter of principle. It can only go wrong anyway.
She shrugs. "So what? It wouldn't be the first time..."
I shake my head. She can't seriously think that I would get involved with Josh. I haven't lost my mind.
"Keep dreaming." I focus on painting Elina's middle finger. The shade is dull. Maybe I can convince her to add a sparkling top coat. "How's it going with Flo?" I ask even though I'm not interested. But it's the best way to change the direction of the conversation.
Before the words have even left my mouth, Elina starts gushing. She tells me everything they've done together in their limited free time. She describes every kiss and every touch, and whenever I look up from her fingernails, her cheeks have become a little rosier.
"And as we walked through the night the day before yesterday, he put his arm around me, pulled me close, and said that the stars only shine for me," she concludes.
Heaven. How cheesy is that?
I struggle not to show Elina what I think of her Flo. He's just whispering in her ear what she wants to hear. Nothing more. This woman is incredibly intelligent, but when it comes to men, her mind seems to go on vacation.
"He loves me." Elina sounds like she's on drugs. "And I love him."
And they lived happily ever after. "Mm-hmm," I murmur and proceed to apply the second coat.
"You're just jealous," she suddenly says in a venomous tone. "Because you'd like to have someone who means the world to you too."
Thanks, but no thanks. "I'm perfectly fine on my own," I reply and accidentally paint Elina's cuticle.
"Mm-hmm. Regards from Dr. Freud," she says, fixing me with her gaze and demanding a response.
What? She thinks it's another Freudian slip? Definitely not. "Please give him my best. He should mind his own business."
She continues to stare at me, unfazed. She's doing this on purpose. But she can save herself the effort of applying this kind of pressure. I quickly finish painting the three nails left for their second coat.
"And I also have to take care of my own things," I say. Then I make my way to my room as quickly as possible.
"Come on, Pippi. I just want you to be happy," Elina calls after me, but I don't respond.
Overwhelmed by sudden fatigue, I close the door behind me and approach the small window, through which I can only see the dirty gray walls of the neighboring house. I crouch on the windowsill and try to push Elina's stories out of my mind. Yet a familiar sadness engulfs me.
It's like a dark monster that crawls out from under the bed whenever I'm too weak to fight its overpowering presence.
It's so quiet here. So terribly quiet.
No cheerful children's laughter or bustling activity surround me.
Only Elina's words reside within me. Alongside the monster, they keep me company, painting pictures in my mind that I don't want to see.
Even when you're alone, you'll never be lonely as long as you carry love in your heart.
My father's loving tone echoes warmly and deeply within me. But no matter what he says, the truth is that I not only feel the loneliness inside me but I can barely bear it anymore. Suddenly, my legs do something they shouldn't.
They walk toward the bed.
In a trance-like state, my hand opens the nightstand drawer and reaches for the golden box with intricately crafted rainbow-colored ornaments. My fingers gently stroke the uneven surface. Tears well up in my eyes, turning the music box into a prism.
I want to open it.
To drive away the loneliness inside me. To feel, just for a moment, the way I used to.
Safe.
Seen.
Loved.
My chest tightens in spasms, and I sob.
Open it, Maya.
No. I must not do that. Because if I open this little box, nothing will ever be the same again. The past will not only catch up with me, no, it will also devour me along with everything I still have.
I try to take a deep breath. I fail. That's why it's crucial that I store the music box where I can't see it.
With a wooden movement, I slam the drawer shut.
This is better. And it will always be better this way.