Life was goin' great
Love was gonna have to wait
Was in no hurry — had no worries
Stayin' single was the plan
Didnʼt need a steady man
I had it covered — 'til I discovered
That love gets me every time
My heart changed my mind
I gol' darn gone and done it
My idee fixe was perfectly clear. In my student days after a number of failed romances, I decided on never falling in love. I locked my heart and, having got sure that the decision was right, threw an imaginary key somewhere in the vast fields which were left behind forever when I moved away from a little town straight ahead to the big life.
That’s when everything started spinning around and left no time for me to think about broken and locked hearts. The kaleidoscope of events flew me to the deep routine of the big city. Positive was overwhelming when everyday I pawed the way from one Publishing House to another, with a giant portfolio and a heavy manuscript, offering either myself as a journalist or my book to publish.
“Oh yeah, that’s good enough! We will call you.”
“Great style, miss, but you’d better work on-”
“We would give you a place if we had one. Stay tuned. We’ll be glad to see you one more time.”
And I rushed farther happily, smiling and not seeing any dark side of life. Rejections? Not my place. Didn’t like? Not my reader. Everything I dreamed of should’ve come true, because I saw bright lights, showing me the way. They had always showed it to me. With no mistakes. And in the end – I don’t know whether the month or a half of the year passed – the advertisement appeared. A stuff reporter is wanted.
I didn’t think, left a temporary job in a café from the ground floor of my apartment building and ran to that Publishing House. It was a foregone conclusion.
“I remember you,” a secretary-girl said leading me to the office. “Good luck.”
And life became perfect! The favorite occupation got me deeply fascinated, immersing into the routine of a reporter in a literature magazine. I was adored, got my head in the clouds of beautiful metaphors, accurate epithets and apt expressions. Everything was going on the way it should, and I needn’t anyone next to me, because I loved everything I had, every moment, even those when I was ready to give up, lost inspiration and the only thing I wanted was to lie flat with my face in pillows.
My idee fixe didn’t suffer. Suffered those who couldn’t understand it. But people like this were out of my way, and I hardly cared about it. Having easily became my friend, the secretary-girl Moniсa didn’t see it as a problem anyway. More likely she enjoyed that she simultaneously had a friend and didn’t – a competitor at the parties.
And I lived easily: time was flying dashingly, seasons were changing, new people were coming in and I didn’t heard anything from the other. Dreams of youth came true and I didn’t need anything else.
He came unexpectedly, out of the blue. With his charming smile and laughing brown eyes. Came to our table in the summer café keeping a notebook alert, and asked, “Would like a tee or a coffee?”
“Two cups of cappuccino with cream,” having noticed my confusion, Monica answered and looked at me nervously. “Olive, are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” I pursed my lips and stared at the menu. “D’ya want something sweet?”
Monica shook her head slowly and smiled broadly in the moment. “Oh, thanks,” she said ogling. “Could you advise us a desert? My friend wants something sweet.”
I frowned and then smiled at him awkwardly. “Is this delicious?” I pointed at some dish not looking at it.
“That’s an amazing desert, believe me. Biscuit is the softest one, cream is light, and fruits were delivered to the café this morning.”
“A great choice,” he smiled with sparkling eyes. “I’m Christopher.”
When he left, I looked at the cup of coffee for the first time. A little flowery heart was painted on the foam.
The most stupid thing was to connect the heart with Christopher, because, you know, waiters don’t paint hearts on coffees. They don’t paint it on desert plates too. But at that moment I didn’t care so much that when he just came across I sighted hopelessly. It started…
For the first time in three years I remembered about the thrown key, about the locked heart. For the first time the idee fixe wanted to be changed to another one, in which I was searching for the key, dig it from the ground just by my hands, because soul demanded to let him in.
Persistently it demanded, ever and anon taking spiritual me back to his beautiful eyes, and the real me, of course because of Monica, - to the café. Now we couldn’t go shopping, because could be late to the café, we could not have time to drink coffee till our lunch was over. And it didn’t matter how long I persuaded myself that I needn’t the key, if we didn’t talk with him a bit in a week, the week was failed.
Fate collided us in everyday life: on street, in parks in evening weekend festivals. He lived near my place, and sometimes we walked together a few streets, he went to the café and I – to the office.
And one day I gave up. Got into the car and drove back to the three thousand population town where I locked my heart years ago. There was no one waiting for me, I couldn’t recognize any face, but I felt a wave of nostalgia, jumped into it. It called ghosts that leaded me to streets where I spent my childhood, school and student years. They flashed in front of my eyes one more time, leaded me to a house owned by my granny and grandpa with whom I grew up four years ago. I sold it, moving to the big city. Then I repeated that faithful rout I made driving away from here with one change: my car stopped beside the field. Grass got up to my waist, colorful sunset was shining brightly, covered by evening clouds, and breezy summer wind was in my hair.
I breathed it in and realized that this was my key. Ghost erased, just as they never were. Heart opened, and I, tired, but happy, came back to the car and press the gas. A song playing on a radio linked with my feelings.
“I gol' darn gone and done it.”
