18
“Vesna! “Max”s voice brought me out of the trance I had fallen into while reading. I looked around me: the sun had gone down behind the trees that flanked the sullen dowser”s house, and I shivered, feeling a little chilly.
“Drago just called me. He says he”s found something. How’s your grandmother”s story, by the way?”
“Poor woman,” I said, turning off the phone screen with a sigh. “She was so naive.”
Max looked at me as if he was about to say something but changed his mind and closed his mouth again.
“Come on,” he said, at last, helping me up from the stone. “Let’s go back before the asparagus-eating witch doctor changes his mind and throws us out. He didn”t sound very cheerful when he called me.”
I tried to imagine Drago Krivec with a cheerful expression, but it was impossible. I doubted the man had ever smiled in his life.
As soon as I entered the house, I felt uncomfortable again. I had to force myself to cross the threshold and take a seat on the grimy sofa. The dowser”s presence stirred something dark in the depths of my being, though I didn”t know what exactly.
“Dead,” said the dowser as we entered. “Mrtvi. Tot. Muertos,” he repeated in every language he knew, motioning for us to leave his house as if we had the plague.
At least he knew one word in Spanish.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, even though the dowser”s explanation had been quite clear.
“Well... they”re all dead,” Max clarified, obviously feeling the need to do so. “He says you must give up the search. That you”re wasting your time.”
“But... there must be something. I”m sure of it.”
My mother had told me. And my grandmother had told her. But I couldn”t tell them that, for obvious reasons.
Drago Krivec looked at me and shook his head, pointing to the door.
“Vesna,” Max muttered so that Drago wouldn”t hear him. “Let it go. It”s clear he doesn”t want us here. He doesn”t want to help us.”
I nodded.
“I see.” I turned to the dowser and raised my hand in farewell without so much as a glance in his direction. Then I went into the hall and picked up my shoes, which were waiting on a shelf between two miniature orange trees. I pointed to them. “Nice calamondins, by the way. You don”t see many around here.”
The man looked at me quizzically as Max struggled to translate my words.
“How do you know the name of those trees?” he asked, surprised.
I shrugged.
“There are lots of orange trees where I was born.”
It was only a half-truth.
During my childhood as a fatherless, only child, I had read my father”s landscaping books over and over again, reciting to myself the common and Latin names of hundreds of ornamental plants. They were my secret prayers, known only to me. Reciting them made me feel less of an orphan because I shared something unique with my late father: something that only he and I could have known and something that my mother would never understand. Our secret.
But none of that mattered to Drago Krivec, just as he didn”t care about my quest, my heritage, or my family.
“If you like plants so much,” Max said, swinging his car keys as we exited the house, “I don”t think you should leave this town without seeing the Arboretum garden. Come on, you”ll love it.”
The Arboretum park grounds turned out to be a frustrated florist”s dream come true.
As soon as we entered, we were greeted by a sea of tulips stretching as far as the eye could see. Yellow, fuchsia, and vermilion followed one another in stripes, weaving a lively tapestry that swayed in the gentle midday breeze. Embracing the tulip fields were tall green hedges and clumps of proud daffodils shining like miniature suns.
“Do you like it?” asked Max shyly, as if afraid of breaking the spell.
I looked at him in disbelief.
“Do I like it?” I bent down to sniff a pansy bush, letting myself be carried away by the memories it brought back. “This is a plant lover”s nirvana.”
Max smiled, satisfied, and let me enjoy the moment.
We strolled for a couple of hours, and I soaked up the color and scent of the ocean of flowers. Max watched me, mesmerized, always a few steps away from me so as not to hinder my exploration.
If it were up to me, I would have moved there and stayed forever. But unfortunately, that wasn’t possible, because the park was about to close and Max also had other plans. As evening began to fall, my Austrian guide cleared his throat and tapped me on the shoulder, interrupting my reverie.
“I”m very sorry, but we”re going to have to leave. I”m working this afternoon, and I have to be in Ljubljana by four o”clock.”
“Oh...” I sighed, disappointed. “Of course, of course...”
I gazed longingly at the rainbow of multicolored primroses by the path.
“You”ve been very kind to show me this place,” I added, “I know this wasn’t part of the services we agreed on.”
We got into the car, and Max drove me back to my hostel. I spent the whole drive in silence, reminiscing about the Arboretum flower beds, the combinations of plants, their scents, colors, and proportions. I fantasized about a parallel life where my father wouldn’t have passed away so soon, and I would have been able to work with him in his gardening company.
Those daydreams left me exhausted. I felt the tiredness of the day when Max announced that we had arrived in Ljubljana, bringing me back to stark reality. He dropped me at the door of the hostel and left in a hurry, claiming he was late for a concert.
“A concert,” I repeated to myself. Maybe he was an usher or even a musician. Yes, being a musician suited him, but why did he avoid talking about it at all costs? Being a musician sounded like a nice job.
The receptionist greeted me cordially and handed me the key. I walked past the cafeteria and up the stairs, sensing a bad omen. I opened the door slowly, afraid of what I might find on the other side.
“Mom?” I whispered, in case it was her presence I was feeling.
There was no response.
I went inside.
It wasn’t her.
My belongings were all over the room, and my clothes were scattered on the floor. I walked through my things, panicking, even though there was no one there anymore. After a few minutes, I managed to muster enough energy to dial the phone number of the only person I knew in the country.
“Max,” I said, holding my breath, relieved to hear him pick up the phone, “I know you”re busy, but I need you.”
“What’s happened?”
“Someone has broken into my room, and I”m afraid to stay here alone tonight.”
“Have they stolen anything?”
“I don”t think so. But my stuff is all over the place.”
“Are you sure it wasn”t the cleaning staff?”
“I don”t know. Do you think they get paid for messing up the rooms?”
“Hey, there”s no need to be so rude. Look, I”ll pick you up as soon as I can. I need to change my clothes first.”
“I”m going to call the police while I wait for you. Will they understand me in Spanish?”
“But nothing has been stolen... what are you going to tell them? Listen, wait until I get there, and we”ll talk about it. It might take a while, but you can go downstairs and read in the meantime.”