Chapter 50
Lana
It’s Tuesday, and I’m meeting Emin for one last time before he is off to do whatever he needs to do. The last couple of days have been blissfully quiet, and I thank God for that. I feel like I really got to know M through his actions and sweet declarations of love.
It’s early evening, and I’m waiting for Emin outside of my former workplace. The stuff I had to endure these last couple of years at this place, I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. But then again, maybe I was the enemy all along?
“Lana? Are you there?” Emin’s voice snaps me out of my trance as I turn around to face him. I walk up to him, and we hug. We walk to a small café and sit down to talk about his departure to Tuzla and life in general.
“Okay, so, how is everything moving along?” I ask him as I take a sip of my coffee. Emin leans closer while stirring his tea.
“Everything is great. So, how have things been with you?” His question makes me move my lips from left to right, and he senses my hesitation to answer his question honestly.
“It’s complicated. I feel like feelings got involved, and I don’t know how to deal with it,” I answer him. I’ve known Emin for a couple of years, and he has stuck with me through the worst. Nothing ever romantically happened between us, and nothing ever will.
“Lana, how did that happen?” he asks me, and I don’t detect any judgment in his tone.
“How did things happen between you and Alessandra?” The moment that name leaves my lips, I instantly regret it.
Alessandra is the love of Emin’s life, and I just stomped all over it.
I’m deflecting about my own complicated feelings about M, and I hate that I’ve taken it out on the one person who has had my back.
“Emin, I’m so sorry,” I speak in a softer voice. “That was a terrible thing to say.”
He shakes his head and smiles at me. “If your feelings are as strong about M as mine about Alessandra, then you are fucked.” My eyes widen, then narrow for a second, before I exhale quickly through my nose.
“No shit. Say something so I regain focus.”
“Switzerland.” Yep, that’ll do it. That place brings back memories, the place I held my last conversation with my father. And I’ll be damned if I back down on my promise to him and myself. I owe it mostly to myself to start fucking living.
“Now that you are focused again, have you finally found the voice within you that you have been looking for all these years?” His tone is sharp, cold, and full of anxiety. A slow smile crosses my face, and my friend instantly relaxes. The visible relief on his face is why I’m doing all of this.
Why I’m surviving.
“That’s amazing, Lana! Oh, one more fun thing, I finally located the previous owner of the hens.”
“Are you serious?” My excitement is barely contained. Emin nods his head furiously.
“Yes! The documents are at my home. I’ll text them to you later. Now,” he sips his tea, “I have a small problem with the tiniest henhouse.” I roll my eyes because here he is again with his hens.
“What kind of problem?” I ask him.
“It’s always so overcrowded, and I feel like the space is getting in the way.”
“I’ll build you a better henhouse.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you doubting my abilities?” I ask him. Emin raises his arms as if he is surrendering, then he puts them back down.
“You? Never. When will you be able to help me out?”
“Tonight.” I finish my coffee, and I welcome the warm liquid. “Are you all ready for Tuzla?” My question is fundamental because I want Emin to succeed.
“I’m all set up, and my brother will help me. I’m going in a week, if that’s okay with you?”
I grab the coffee mug and twirl it with my left hand, the silence between us stretching out.
“Definitely. Let’s talk about the details first. I want to be able to help you with your big responsibility.”
***
Emin and I finalized all the details for his move, and I feel lighter as I walk through downtown Sarajevo.
The last of the daylight bled out behind the mountains, leaving the city wrapped in a cold, blue dusk.
What’s slicing through the light fog that has settled low and heavy over the water are the streetlamps.
The air smelled of wet stone and wood smoke, the kind that clings to your clothes and follows you home, leaving you with a sense of familiarity and comfort.
The city is asking for something, or someone, to break the quiet.
I stand on a bridge looking at the river of Miljacka, and I know what I have to do—treat myself before I head on to Emin’s to help him with his henhouse. I dial M’s number to see if he has anything planned.
“Hello, love,” he answers with a sweet tone. “How was your get-together with Emin?” he asks me.
“Good. Listen, I want to ask you something.”
“Anything, Lana.”
“Emin has asked me to help him with his henhouse in a couple of hours. Is it okay with you if I go? You didn’t have anything planned, right?”
“No. Will Emin also be at his home?” There is a slight edge to M’s voice, and it stems from an awful emotion: jealousy. Fuck, I need to play my cards right.
“He won’t be there, he’s working,” I answer him, and he gives me a humming sound of approval.
“Good, you are only mine.”
“M, who else’s would I be?”
“Of fucking nobody. When will you be home?” The word home rolls off his lips, as if I have been there my whole life. I guess that happens when two people love each other.
“Around nine. Are you up to something?” I ask him. I hear some ruffling of papers in the background.
“I’m sorry, I was just looking at some financial documents for the dealerships. And I’m not doing anything groundbreaking, Oliver is coming over to my penthouse.” I like Oliver’s free spirit and his I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.
“Cool, tell him I say hi.”
“No, those are only reserved for me,” M says to me as if I have physically slapped him. The most baffling thing is that he is not kidding.
“You silly man. Anyways, I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll have a tail on you, just so you know.”
“Of course you will. I love you.”
“I love you more, little hummingbird.” I hang up and start walking toward the new car M bought me last month. He has been showering me with gifts, sex, and sweet words. But now is the time for me to do something nice—building a better henhouse.