She wanted to say something else, it would make her feel safer if she was talking, but she couldn’t think of anything. Where is the Black Sea again? she asked finally. If you’re coming from the Mediterranean, you pass Istanbul and go through the Bosporus, then you’re in the Black Sea. The south shore is Turkey, and in the north are Bulgaria, Romania, Ukraine, and Russia. Have you been to all those places? asked Lara. I went on that cruise, said Manfred, that’s where I met my wife. She’s Ukrainian. She was working on the ship. But that didn’t work out. Danica came back and asked if they wanted anything. Both shook their heads. When she was gone, Manfred said in a whisper, I tell you, those women from the East, and then he laid his finger across his lips.
Lara was relieved when Simon finally returned. She thought he might have gone to the bathroom, but he was holding a dirty white cable in one hand. He had a brief word with the landlady, and then he climbed up on the bench once more and switched the cables. For a moment, there was just a streaky gray on the screen, then the picture suddenly came clear, and the sound seemed even louder than before to Lara. Simon punched through a few channels on the remote, probably to check that the reception was uniformly good. There was a brief glimpse of two men sitting facing each other. Lara was almost sure that one of them was the man in the black coat, on the bus. But the scene disappeared immediately, to be replaced by a woman arguing with a little girl, and then a group of soldiers sneaking through a forest, and then back to the skiing. Simon returned to the table. I just remembered I had an old cable lying around, he said, and smiled in satisfaction. Shall we go? said Lara, getting to her feet.
The landlady didn’t want any money for the bottle of wine. It’s in return for the cable, she said, giving Lara and Simon her hand, which felt soft and a bit soapy from the washing up. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, one of the men called after them as they left the bar, and everyone laughed.
THE WATER WAS BOILING violently, half of it had evaporated already, leaving a white chalky line at the top of the saucepan. Lara quickly turned off the gas. Never ever leave the stove on when you go out, not even for a second, said Simon. As if Lara didn’t know that. It’s not my fault, she said, I thought you’d be back right away. She felt like crying. I didn’t mean it like that, said Simon, and kissed her. Nothing happened. Lara turned away and picked up the corkscrew. Simon watched alertly as she took the plastic seal off the bottle. She had to overcome her own resistance to place her thumb over the girl’s face and apply enough strength to insert the screw into the cork. She looked Simon in the eye, let him see how furious she was. I’m sorry, he said, I know, it’s my fault. She set down the bottle and said, as if in conciliation, You do it. Simon put on a rather ceremonious expression, as though God knows what surprise was in store, and slowly pushed down on the girl’s arms. With a bright popping sound, the cork came out of the bottle.
Simon looked at Lara with a grin. She threw her arms around him and started to kiss him, went on repeatedly kissing him, and tried to undo the buttons on his shirt. Simon, not looking where he was putting it, laid aside the corkscrew, and with their mouths glued together they undressed each other and let their clothes drop to the floor. Simon almost fell over as he wriggled out of his tight jeans, he was only just able to catch himself on Lara, who was impatiently tugging at the hooks on her bra. When they were both naked, Lara lay down on the coconut matting they had bought at IKEA, and Simon knelt between her legs. He tried to enter her, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t you rather go on the bed? he asked. Wait, said Lara, and she disappeared into the living room and came back with one of the sofa cushions. She lay down again and pushed the cushion under her bum. The matting was rough, and Lara could feel it scratching her back, but she didn’t care. Soon Simon rolled off her and lay next to her, and she understood he had come.
She was still aroused, and stroked him until he was hard again. This time she sat on top of him. Simon didn’t seem to be really focused, but she didn’t care. She rode him till she could no longer feel the burning in her knees, and sensed the blood rushing to her face. She shut her eyes and moved more and more vigorously, it was as though it was all happening inside her head, as though all her sensations were merging into one overwhelming feeling. Then she heard herself scream loudly, and dropped panting onto Simon, her head beside his, not daring to look him in the eye. For a while she lay like that, then her breathing came more evenly, and she could feel her body again, the pain in her knees and the chill against her back. She sat up. Simon looked at her in astonishment, and asked with a smile, Did the earth move for you, then? She laid a finger across his mouth. Her face grew very earnest, and she said, If you stop loving me ever, I want you to promise to tell me. But I do love you, protested Simon. I mean, because you never know what will happen, Lara said. And now I have to put something on, or I’ll catch cold.
In the bathroom, she saw that the pattern of the coconut matting was imprinted across her back, and that her knees were scraped open and sore. She thought of taking a shower, but for now she just put on a fresh pair of panties and pulled on her dressing gown. When she went back to the kitchen, Simon had got dressed, put on fresh water, and laid the table. He poured two glasses of wine and passed her one, and they toasted each other. Here’s to us. The wine was awful.
Lara didn’t sit facing Simon as she usually did, but beside him, and she kept touching him during the meal, grazing his arm or stroking his neck and back. After it was over, they stayed sitting for a long time and talking. Lara was bubbly, she spoke more quickly and volubly than usual. I think I must be a bit drunk, she said. I’d better look out then, hadn’t I, said Simon with a smile. Shall we go to bed?
Simon went to the bathroom and came back in pajamas. Lara didn’t feel like brushing her teeth. She just pulled off her dressing gown and slid into bed with Simon. He lay on his back and she pressed herself against him, pushing her hand in under his pajama top and stroking his chest. Are you tired? she asked. Yes, said Simon, and with that he turned onto his side and soon his breathing was calm and even. Lara didn’t feel at all tired. After lying there awake for a time, she got up and made herself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Then she went to the living room and turned on the TV. She zapped her way through the programs. It was mostly films and talk shows. Lara stopped for a while at one station with phone-sex ads, and watched the women rubbing their breasts and moaning Call me, call me. For once, she didn’t feel disgusted, on the contrary she felt a kind of sympathy or solidarity with the women, which surprised her. She clicked onward, and suddenly there was the man from the bus again. It was the local channel, which recycled all its programs every hour. The studio was in the old town, not far away. Lara knew the host by sight, he used to be a teacher, Simon had gone to his school.
She listened for a while before it dawned on her that the guest on the show had to be a writer. She’d never heard his name before. The host’s questions were often longer than the man’s short, factual replies. Again, Lara was caught by his alert look, which had got her attention on the bus. Asked where he got the ideas for his stories, he said he found them on the street. Only today, on the bus to the studio, there was this young couple, two perfectly ordinary young people, sitting together and talking terribly earnestly. They reminded me of my youth, a woman I wanted to marry and have kids with. Then something got in the way. But I never felt so sure of anything as I did then, before I really knew the first thing about living.