Anything Can Happen

'Anything can happen now!' my aunt shouts on the phone, and her voice sounds hollow, distant.

Well, she is distant from me. She lives far away, in the middle of the huge country. I don't know where she exactly lives, to say the truth, – we hardly met, maybe a couple of times at the family gatherings, in the deep past.

Since recently she has kept calling me. She says she must take care of me. Even if from a distance. She and I are the only members of our extended family who remain alive.

'Anything can happen these days!' she keeps yelling at me.

“Be more specific,” I ask.

“This woman. She can be anyone... Anything!''

“Like who?”

“A spy! An agent! She can use your kindness against you!” my aunt says.

“Come on. You should have seen her. She's scared, that is all. She fled from the war, for God's sake.“

“It doesn't make her a good person by default.”

“Nor makes her a spy.”

“Be careful, kid,” my aunt sighs. “Do you know her full name at least?”

The lady's name is L. Her kid is in a safe place now. She said she had placed the kid first (“I know people, too,” she said) and then traveled further.

“I need to find the place where both of us will be happy and secure,” she explained to me. “I figured we were not happy nor secure where we lived before.”

For that purpose, lady L. traveled through numerous countries before she got to where we, she, and I, met. She started her journey in a provincial town, it was at the beginning of the war. The lady L. used to own a small shop there.

“What did you sell?”

“Female stuff, mostly.”

“Such as?”

“Nail polish, wood polishers, bath polishers. Polishers, yeah, for different use. And, also, rags.”

I met her at the grocery store. The lady L. was wandering in the canned food section, trying to figure out what was the difference between one type of canned tomatoes and the other. She struck me as a person with a very little life experience. I offered help. We ended up having a coffee together, which I also helped to choose.

My aunt is the elder sister of my mom's and is the complete opposite of the latter. She never had a family or kids of her own, having devoted her whole self to work in the public sector. She built a community sports center in their town, almost literally with her own hands. My mom was proud of her elder sister. Mom used to say she'd go and visit her sister one day. And she never did. No wonder, though: my mother lived like a bird – no plans, no roots, no savings. She worked as a stewardess and then she was an operator in customer service.

“When she talks to me, I hear my mother's voice, you know,” I say to lady L. on the next day after my aunt's call.

Funny thing about parents – even if they are dead, they somehow have access to your mind, and even when they are dead, you think of them: they mean well.

Lady L. and I are at some official place where they get the paperwork done.

''What does she say to you?” asks lady L., using her application form as a hand fan.

“Who?”

“This aunt of yours.”

“Ah. Just usual things – that she misses me and stuff.”

Lady L. smiles.

“Do you have relatives?” I ask.

“No, just my kid. All gone.”

“Now, or...?”

“Long-gone.”

“Okay.”

The lady L's face expression is null. Looking at her is like looking at a freshly linen bed sheet – neat, clean, monochrome.

“How did you get here, again?” I ask.

“I told you already.”

“I know, I know. Just I was telling to someone and seemed like I missed a few details. Where did you after...?”

She interrupts me:

“I'd rather not go there again.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry. I really don't wanna talk about this.”

“Sure. I understand.”

Some people in line talk to each other, others remain silent. It's hard to say who's sadder - those that are quiet or those who chit-chat.

The lady L. texts, I can't but look over her shoulder.

“Just making sure, that they are waiting for me,” she says as if she noticed me peeping.

“Who – they?” I ask.

“People at my next stop.”

“Where will it be?”

“I haven't decided yet.”

I nod.

“You know any decent pedicurist?” the lady L. asks.

“Sorry?”

“Look at this shame!” she points at her toes – the polish is half ragged.

“I can give you, you know, a nail polish remover.”

“I am not some lout!” she exclaims. “I used to take care about myself, and I did it alright.”

“You're next in line,” I say.

“They are waiting for me,” the lady L. says.

“Who?”

“People that I know.”

I dare to ask:

“What's your plan, though?”

She stares at me bluntly.

“I want them red.”

“Excuse me?”

“Red toes. My turn! Counter number 27”.

My mother had a period in her life when she became extremely suspicious. She thought, for instance, that my friends wanted to let me down. She would come up to me and say that I deserved better friends. She wanted to protect me and she never could.

“That's all friends I've got, mom,” I, a teenager then, responded.

“Better be alone than in a bad company.”

“Define bad company,” I disputed.

“People who pretend to be someone else,” mother fended. “I've learned human nature, believe me, kid. Flight attendants are the best psychologists ever.”

You are not a flight attendant anymore, I wanted to say then. But I didn't.

“They might also steal from you,” she added.

I didn't know who my mother was at that point. It was a period in her life when she was getting ready for her final flight. She was preparing the ground for an easy take-off. And it didn't play out easy.

I missed her dearly until I turned 20 and outgrew my pain.

It seemed like I fell asleep, while lady L. was away at the counter.

We don't talk much on our way back to the downtown. Lady L. is not such a pleasant lady, after all, and if I think about it, I don't even know her last name.

“Let's meet for a drink in the evening,” she said when we were about to split our ways. “Like at 8?”

“Are you sure you've got money for this?” I ask her.

“I've got some support,” the lady L. responds. “The fact that I fled from the war, doesn't mean I am helpless.”

“Why am I helping you then?” I ask.

She shrugs.

“This is absolutely your choice.”

I didn't want to go. She was unpleasant. She was shut. She was ungrateful. Maybe my aunt was right, after all.

I went only because my close friend, whom I supposed to meet with, canceled on me. Maybe my mom was right, too.

“What about you?” the lady L. asks.

“What about me?”

“Why are you engaged in all this... activity?”

“Activity?”

“I mean, in all this helping,” she sips wine. “Good wine, by the way.”

“Everyone is helping,” I said.

“People are not generous, by nature.”

“I believe, people are different.”

She smirks.

“Tell me about it,” she says. “I was just thinking... I don't trust people.”

“Fair enough.”

I, too, sip wine. It tastes horrible.

“Where do you work?” she asks all of a sudden.

“Who, me?”

“You, who else?”

“I used to work for one NGO and I was... They've let me go recently,” I say.

“Where's your income coming from?” she insists.

“I've got savings and I rent out a flat.”

Lady L. laughs loudly. She is getting drunk so quickly that this is even scary.

“Let's drink for a farewell!” she raises her glass.

“What farewell?”

“I am leaving tomorrow morning,” lady L. says casually.

“What? How? Where?”

“I told you repeatedly that people are waiting for me,” the lady L. sounds irritated.

“Where?”

“I will let you know when I am there.”

“Did you get a ticket?”

She nods.

“Do you want me to take you to the airport?” I ask.

“Oh no, no,” she says. “No. You've done enough. Enough.”

I make a certain effort to take this “enough” in a good way.

The same night I check the departure schedule. There is quite a few flights scheduled for tomorrow morning: Naples, Frankfurt, Tel Aviv, Doha, Seoul. She could go anywhere.

My aunt calls me again.

“What about your new acquaintance?” she asks. “How is she?”

I respond after the pause:

“She left. She can be in Doha, in Rome, in New York.”

“People are unbelievable!” the auntie is almost shrieking with delight. “People are...”

I interrupt her:

“They really are.”

Then I say:

“You know, auntie, it won't hurt if I lay low for a little while.”

“How is that? Are you in danger?”

“I am most definitely not. But just in case. Don't call me until I call you.”

Aunt mumbles something and then she says:

“Is there anyone who can take care of you?”

“Of course.”

I look at the departure schedule one more time in the morning. And then again, for no reason, in a week. Lady L. didn't call me, of course. But she can be anywhere.