I was born and raised in cities. I was surrounded by concrete high buildings, precisely organized parks, 24-hours open businesses. Noise, traffic jams, ignorance.
I have a wonderful job. I’m one of the bests, having international renown, my knowledge is respected by hundreds of specialists. The price to arrive this point wasn’t cheap: studying hard for years, working 14–16 hours a day, gaining knowledge, struggling between so many failures.
Rush, rush, rush. Be perfect, never make a mistake, be professional. Push, push, push.
Tired? Drink coffee. Late from work? Wake up earlier. Stressed? Get a psychologist. But smile, perform and be on the top. Train yourself every day, read, and always study.
One day I sat down on a bench in my favorite park with my coffee in my hand just to have a ten minutes break. A guy was sitting next to me, mumbling under his nose, but I was ignoring him. Ignorance… we are living together with the ignorance longer than with our partner.
The guy looked puzzled. He was so weird. A short, fragile figure, parchment-white skin, ice-cold blue eyes. Mumbling incomprehensibly. My heart was whispering. “Ask him if he is okay.” My brain screamed no. “Why would you do this? Ignore him!”
I contradict my brain rarely. My brain is always right. Never brought me in steep situations. But my muted heart won.
“May I help you?” His confusion was visible. “I don’t know, but don’t think so, thanks.” He said. “Sure?” “Yes, I’m just in transit. It’s weird.” “What’s so weird?” I asked. He looked at me and said “I don’t really know. Everybody is getting married, wife, children, house. Maybe that’s what I want too. I don’t know.”
Before I could wake up from this answer, he stood up and walked away. I was looking shocked at his short, limping steps.
Then I remembered Mickey.
I was about 15–16 years old by then. An outstanding schoolgirl, full of dreams and possibilities. That mysterious geek one, who was involved in every project, received a lot of prizes. I was invited to international student exchange programs, holding piano concerts, and involved in several scientific projects. This kind of life was far away from the average teenage life boundaries.
I was spending the summer at my grandparents, in a small village far away from the city. In that small village, nobody knew about my successes. Nobody knew about my eminent life.
That hot afternoon one of my friends, Lily, and I were sitting on the riverbank in the grass, throwing stones in the water. I was trying to think about something interesting to talk about, but it was the fifth day when nothing notable happened. I loved that boredom.
The sun was hot, shining cloudlessly in the late afternoon. We heard a motorcycle approaching and it stopped just behind us. Lily became so excited. Her cheeks were red, her pupils dilated. “It’s Mickey!” she whispered. “Who’s Mickey?” I asked confused. “Oh God, you are such an alien sometimes,” she grumbled.
“He is the most handsome guy I have ever met! He had so many girlfriends, last time Mary-Jane, that abominable mouse. For an entire month. Mary-Jane was in the clouds but, obviously, she was too little for such a great guy. His family is so rich, oh God.” whispered Lily.
I tried to look at the guy approaching but the sun blinded me and I could see only his silhouette.
“I met your ma.” He said to Lily without greeting. “You should hurry home.”
“Why?” asked Lily but Mickey did not answer. Lily slowly stood up and shyly whispered “would you… Uhm… take me home with your motorbike?” But Mickey wasn’t paying attention anymore, he was looking at me. “Who are you?”
He was tall, with wide shoulders, perfect chin, and warm brown eyes. But in that particular moment I thought Mickey is the rudest and most disgusting guy on the planet. “Lily, wait,” I said. “I’m coming with you.” She sighed deeply and refused with grimacing lips. “My mom is going to yell at me again. You better remain.” And she left.
Mickey was still looking at me with the question in his eyes. I answered with as much hostility I could. “I was thought the right question in a situation such as this the polite manner is to ask is >>What’s your name?<<”
Mickey smiled. “Oh, I know now. You’re the girl from the city, at your grandparents. Okay then. What’s your name?” I introduced myself. “I’m Mickey, ” and he moved his right hand. After a few seconds of thinking, I accepted and shook his hand.
When I decided it’s time to go home, I did no longer think about Mickey he’s rude or jerk. “I have to go now,” I said. “It was good to know you.” Mickey was hopping from foot to foot, maybe he at a loss. “I can bring you home.” He said quietly. I could barely hear him. “Sorry?” I asked. “Uhm… Would you mind if I would bring you home?”
As I learned later, it was a big honor. Girls from the village were standing in lines just to have a ride on his bike. I did not feel like that, I did not feel right, he was still a stranger for me. I refused. He did not want to let me go home by myself so he was pushing the motorbike next to me as we walked together to my grandparents’ house.
Days, weeks passed and we met often. He seemed to appear by chance everywhere I went. Of course, Lily and the other girls were frustrated about Mickey and me. Lily was talking with me just to know if we already kissed. As I denied (because we didn’t) she called me a liar. Mickey had a big womanizer reputation in the village.
As I’m recollecting my memories now, I think it was strange. It had to be strange for everybody who knew us. Mickey, the most wanted Casanova and me, the weird girl from the city being just friends. Meeting often and just talking, not touching.
For me, he seemed to be somebody totally different than Lily was gossipping about. When we were just by ourselves he was such a modest, warm-hearted, honest boy. Not the biggest mind I have ever met, I have to admit. He was lightly dumb but had a big heart.
By the end of the summer, everybody was sure about our marriage.
I always thought it was a joke, but I learned it wasn’t at all. Mickey was two years older than me. Girls around us started to look after serious relationships when they were 16. Marrying someone at their 18–19 was a common thing. Establish a new family, give birth to children, and let the husband take care of you. This was their life.
I have never had such plans seriously in my mind but I found myself playing sometimes with the idea of having a simpler and happier life. Every time when I was spending the summer at the countryside I felt I found eternal calmness.
But my education was against this. My teachers told me it’s a sin, a crime against humanity if somebody with talent buries the abilities. The abilities should be turned in favor of humanity, to make life better for those who are not so talented. “If you are good at something, if you have the brain,” they said, “then you should use it, push it to the extremes. People who have fewer possibilities won’t do. Can’t do. You are the one, who should!”
Three years passed and Mickey and I were best friends. Finally, our teenage hormones did not let this be only friendship and the girls could say “I told you so.” We become officially a couple. Mickey was always a gentleman when he was with me, or at least tried to be. I was his princess, he used to say.
I liked his company, his simple thoughts, his honest manner.
I fell in love with him.
I loved the tiny houses, the wide and empty streets, the cows and chickens in the yards, the tractor’s humming noise.
My mentors always taught me that feelings, emotions are only messing up the brain. To achieve the desired goals I had to learn to think rationally, locking out everything about love, desire and passion. Not to mislead me.
Unfortunately, Mickey and the entire world he represented were love, desire and passion.
It was August. The sun was purply behind the horizon. Mickey was laying in the grass, crunching a dry halm and I was standing, leaning against his motorbike. “Where would you like to settle after you finished your studies?” he asked. “I don’t know… the world is so big, there are many places. I don’t want to be settled in only one city! I want the entire world!” I was so enthusiastic. “What about you, Michael?” I asked. “How do you imagine your future?”
He remained in silence for several minutes. “I don’t really know. Everybody is getting married, wife, children, house. Maybe that’s what I want too. I don’t know.”
He stood up and walked to me. Gently hugged me and asked me not to forget him. Ever, ever. Even when I will stand at the top of the world. I did not understand. “Are you breaking up with me?” I asked. “No way. I would never break up with you. Life will break up with us.” I just felt him trembling, saw the tears gathering slowly in his eyes.
I kept my word. I kept in touch with Mickey for several years. I had other boyfriends, he had other girlfriends but the good friendship between us remained for years.
Now, 20 years apart still warms my heart when I think about him.
That special world we shared faded away. I heard he married, and has three kids. He was much older than his friends when he married. I was always afraid to ask him why did he wait so long. I was afraid of the answer.
I am a successful woman now. I convinced: with my work I’m helping mankind to progress. The future generation, children of tomorrow will base on my work and continue to grow. Just as my mentors guided me.
But every summer evening, when I’m sitting in my room, music is quietly playing and the warm wind raises the curtain, I hear his motorbike approaching… And I dream about us having a lovely, peaceful life far away from the city.
