Lost in Transition

He leaned back and gave himself to the hushed music at the pub. He was in Berlin for four days and it had been the third consecutive night he had spent in that ramshackle pub. He was studying psychology and came here to observe the behaviours of the society, and reactions to reunification. He had the address of a family friend, but he couldn’t find that area of the city. Besides, staying in a hostel seemed useful for his travel purpose. Or maybe he was just too lazy to search for an address. Actually, he didn’t know which one was the real reason because he was half-asleep after a typical sleepless night in his noisy hostel.

Then suddenly he felt a warmth in front of his face. He opened his eyes and saw the young girl upright over him, holding a Zippo. In contrast to the abstractness of his interrupted inner monologues, the shining of her beauty looked so real. She bent over him and asked ironically: “May I light your cigarette, sir?” By then, he was unaware of the cigarette hardly standing between his lips. “Sure,” he replied, “thanks.” That was an awkward reply, at least not wise enough to impress somebody. But she seemed to be fond of this puzzled look on his face. She took a seat on the stool next to him with an admirable smile on her face.

He motioned the bartender over, and the bald man came to refill the glass with beer. He said: “Make it two!” but the girl interrupted him, shouting: “I want gin & tonic.” The baldhead seemed high on drugs, but he did just what he was asked to do. He filled the glass with ice cubes, and poured a shot of gin into the glass. Then he added tonic water and some lime juice to it. In the end, he stirred it with great determination. It was paradoxical that the drugs he had taken made him look more self-disciplined. The girl stared him even then. He used to like girls drinking heavy and found it sexy. Actually he himself was regarded as one of the heaviest drinkers among his clique. But he was attached to ‘Weizenbier’ so much, and his favourite drink, whiskey, is too expensive for a traveller like him.

She asked him his name and why he was there. He told her his story and the reason why he was in Berlin. He used to act diffident talking about his studies, but she looked interested in that psychological mumbo jumbo. Or maybe she just liked him and pretended like she cared what he talked about. Apparently she wasn’t just a hot girl, she was also a smart one. She managed to give this impression, even not trying to speak big words. And after a full glass of gin & tonic. However he still couldn’t help his paranoid nature.

Then suddenly a young man entered the bar and he directly walked to the girl’s stool. He ignored all the people he passed including the man next to the girl’s stool. He was in an arrogant mood and began to shake her by the shoulders.

“Leave me alone,” she said.

The lout, who probably had Balkan origins kept on hurting her. He was supposed to do something to stop the Balkan, but he was still hesitant about interfering in her life. He didn’t even know her name yet.

But finally, he intended to sit up. That caught the Balkan’s attention.

“Who the hell is he?” said the Balkan.

“It’s none of your business,” she replied.

“Yeah, you’re right. But maybe Pedja could find it interesting.”

The Balkan stood closer then, and looked him in the eyes. There was no ignorance in this glance, but threat.

“Look girl, Pedja doesn’t like what you’ve done lately. We need to talk. You know I like you, girl. Don’t persevere in this break-up thing. The guy loves you desperately.”

“Saša, let’s make it clear: You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. But I really don’t have time to chat with you right now, pal. Just piss off!”

“OK then, tomorrow night I’ll be back here,” said the lout, and finally he went out of the bar with an irritating grin on his face.

He thought of talking to the girl for a while, but she was apparently not in good mood anymore. The entrance of the Balkan had obviously changed the atmosphere in the bar. The girl began to behave distant towards him. She finished her second gin & tonic and stood up quickly, and walked to the bar door.

“Do you wanna come walk with me, Simon?”

“Why not?”

After a period of silence he continued: “What is the thing between you and that man? He doesn’t seem a good type of man to me.”

“Oh, you mean Saša. What a douchebag! He is one of Pedja’s folks.”

“Boyfriend?” he interrupted.

“Well, we dated a long time, but broke up last April. Actually he’s some kinda good guy, but sometimes he behaves just like Saša. You know, that rude way of immigrants. Anyways, he tries to win me back, and sometimes uses his stupid friends.”

“Do you love him?”

“Aaah, you know, it was a sort of long relationship. I used to think that I love him, but now I don’t feel sure anymore.”

Simon nodded.

“Enough about Pedja, let’s talk about you for a while,” she said smiling, “I know your name, why you are here… well, that’s everything I know.”

“Actually it’s pretty everything about my life.”

She laughed. “What a strange guy!” she murmured, smiling. “Actually I was thinking I can know what’s going on in men’s minds. But you disproved it.” She laughed over and over again: “Gosh, what an unpredictable man!”

“So, where do you live?”

She burst into laughter again. But that was not a typical laugh of a drunk girl, though, just as admirable as the smile in her face when he saw her first at the bar.

“You’re so fast, honey. Even faster than Pedja!”

“Come on, I didn’t mean that!” Simon said. He was content to make her laugh, but he also didn’t want to be misunderstood. He admitted that he was fond of this girl. Well, she obviously attracted him at first sight. But he wasn’t that type of man. He was sick of immature boys in his high school who see girls as objects and value them based on their sex appeal. And he didn’t want to leave such an impression on her.

But those words he said affected the atmosphere badly. She didn’t look happy anymore. And her smile was lost in a look of brooding sorrow. She said with a sad voice: “Am I so unattractive that you don’t even give a thought to sleep together?”

“No, look honey. You know I… You know I didn’t mean that.”

“It was just overreacting. You hurt my feelings, Simon.”

That sorrow look on her face made her a completely different girl. Or made her a woman.

“I… I didn’t want to…”

He tried to convince her of his goodwill, but words failed to fall from his lips.

“You don’t need any explanations,” she said and a strong gesture followed that. She lifted her hand slightly, but in a stable way as well. Like she knew what she wanted. Apparently she wanted him to stay away from her. But that was not easy for him at that point. He just kept looking at her with great desire, with a totally different psychology. Her feminine body parts, which he hadn’t made much of until then, were absolutely the focus of his attention. She had the perfect body, the kind that deserved to be painted by Boticelli.

That was not the way of his high-school buddies, he felt something real and that was nothing about the hormones. In that small period of time, he managed to react reflectively and catch her hand in a gentle hold. She looked surprised, it’s obvious that she didn’t see that coming and didn’t know how to react to that unexpected move from Simon. Now he moved his other hand from her waist to her hips, feeling the delicious curve there. She couldn’t behave unresponsively for long, because she felt the same way about Simon. She drew his knuckles to her lips. And then they kissed. All those things between them weren’t like a ritual of a young couple having spent the night together. Maybe that was a random thing, but it was like the whole cosmos wanted to see them as a pair. He could hardly pull himself away from his lover’s lips for a second: “So, where do you live?”

Dissolving into laughter was not her reaction that time. She had an inviting look on her face, though. She didn’t attempt to give him the impression of a “good girl” from the beginning, so that one was understandable in the context. They ran the streets of Berlin and couldn’t help themselves from kissing and touching. It was all too new and exciting for Simon. They passed an old man who stared at them disapprovingly, but they didn’t care. She deflected to crossroads over and over again, but he didn’t bother about it. He just enjoyed the time and left the control to his lover completely.

The next morning, he woke up in a typical East German flat. He saw the beautiful body lying next to him and could still be proud of what he did last night. He thought back on the passionate love and searched for ways to reward his lover. She deserved to wake up to something special. He thought of a tasty breakfast at first, but the fridge was almost empty except two bottles of cheap beer. He gave up this idea and looked for another. Suddenly, he revived in his mind a florist image. He had seen it just before they came to her apartment block, as far as he remembered. It had been closed then, but it was not so unusual at the weekend. So he decided not to wake his lover up.

He went down the stairs. He was so impatient that he hardly noticed the greeting from an old man at the ground floor. The street looked totally different in the daylight. He was somewhat confused, but he was hundred percent sure that he had seen a florist around the neighborhood. He had not even been drunk, maybe a little in love. Then he even remembered the name of the florist: “Blumen-Insel”. He turned back and asked the old man where he can find a place to buy flowers.

“Oh, you young lovers!” he said, and described the way to the florist. “Don’t buy a red rose, try something different.”

Simon smiled and hit the road. Apparently it was not as close as he thought, but there was no major distance at all according to the old man. There were just some turns he had to take.

He turned left three times, and right once as he was told by the elder. But the streets didn’t look familiar to him. As he thought that he was lost, he decided to ask the address once more. He entered a small grocery in the neighborhood.

“Excuse me, do you know where the florist named “Blumen-Insel” is? How can I go there?”

“I pass there on my way home. I can accompany you if you want.”

That was a customer with extra-thick glasses, and Simon counted himself lucky to come upon that man: “That would be very kind of you, sir.”

It was not so far away from the grocery, they did all the way in ten minutes. The man with glasses wasn’t a talkative type, but Simon didn’t care about him. He was just worried about his lover he had left in the bed. He thanked to the man once more. “Yellow chrysanthemums would be an excellent choice for your girlfriend,” the man said. He thanked again, and “What a boring man,” he thought simultaneously. Blumen-Insel… It was in front of him with all its liveliness. It was like a sacred place for him, a place he could die for just a scene of it. The signboard was just like the image in his brain: Green font with shades of pink, all on a grey background.

He entered the store. The florist wasn’t more high-spirited than the man with glasses. Maybe those people couldn’t wake up that early on a Monday morning in real terms. “A bouquet of white and red tulips,” he said in a rush. She looked still uninterested, but decided to stand up finally. She started to pick out the flowers. Simon asked her to move a little bit more quickly. She just turned her head to him for one second, and kept working with the same dilatoriness and moroseness. She made a package for the arrangement. That meant the end of the torture for Simon. As he went out through the door, he felt just like a prisoner at the end of his punishment.

But the world outside was not so nice to him. He was surprised in daylight just as a prisoner got out of the prison after long years. He found himself in a completely different world and a great confusion. The apartment blocks around him were totally identical in size and shape. It seemed like they were derived from the same product line. There weren’t any differences when he lifted his head. There were some contrasts at the floor, but they were usually too small to notice or just pointless. He ran to the end of the road. Then he turned back and ran through the street to the other side. But it meant nothing at all. The street got more crowded as the people took their ways to their offices as usual. But he didn’t even know what he was supposed to ask them. The only thing in his mind was his lover and what she might think when she woke up. There were no sign of him, no notes left behind. As he thought those things, he began to run even faster looking for some salvation. But the apartment blocks are still identical to each other, the busy people were still unfamiliar, his lover was still far away from him, her beauty was still unquestionable. He thought, and thought, and thought. He ran, and ran, and ran.

Cem Pekdoğru, 2008
Edited by Frazer Whyte