STALKER

Chapter 81 - 3rd April, 2023

Translations down the bottom

The garden was as lush as my greenhouse and with my newly acquired knowledge about all things flora I knew that a lot of these plants shouldn't be flowering this time of year, nor should they be happily growing side by side. It struck me that Nana Ovia like myself had a special connection with her garden. As much as I hated the idea, it did seem that she and I were made from the same cloth.

Alina pushed open the wicker gate and led me into a quiet area behind the fence. The moment I stepped into the secret garden, the description is apt, I felt a pleasant vibration in the air,  a faint buzzing in my ear. Nana Ovia was sitting at the table in the pergola, several open glass jars and a mortar and pestle in front of her. She stopped what she was doing when she saw me and dusted off her fingers.

''Băiatul special este aici." Her plump face scrunched up in a smile, and the crow's feet around her eyes deepened. "For you, just a little gift." I put the pot of herbs on the table and she ruffled the little plants to release their scent. 

 "Thank you sweet băiat. Ești chiar mai strălucitor decât ultima dată când te-am văzut." Her little cherub face was pleasantly flushed, her disguise was firmly in place.

"Când ai sunat, am fost încântat să aud de la tine." Nana Ovia stretched out her arms for a hug and I obliged.  Apparently, I was in her good books mostly because I had nothing to do with her grandson any longer.  She was stronger than she looked, her arms pulled me in tight and she slapped me several times on the back for good measure. I felt like I was supposed to burp like a baby before she's free me. 

''It's nice to see you as well." I looked around and noticed a cane resting against her chair. ''Your health has improved I see, you're not confined to your wheelchair anymore." 

 Alina was puttering around in the background and I could see she was making tea for us. Hopefully, it isn't that vile slimy liquid I drank last time. She nodded. ''The Gods have been kind to me. I'm much better. It's not my time yet." 

She pulled her cane a little closer. ''That wheelchair made me feel like an old woman." She turned her head and made spitting noises. Gross but obviously warding off the evil eye trumps basic hygiene. I watched as she cleared the table, my nerves started to niggle at me. 

 Alina left the teapot on the table to steep and placed two little cups in front of us. I wasn't sure how to start the conversation. 

 I fidgeted in my seat as Nana Ovia tended to the tea. My hands having nothing better to do I picked up the teacup to examine the faded blue pattern. Then BAM before I knew it, images started to run across my mind's eye. As it always happened they moved so fast, it was a blur of colours, forms, and people. The suddenness of it made me dizzy. I put down the cup abruptly and it rattled in its saucer. With a guilty look, I quickly apologised to Weir...Peter's grandmother for being clumsy. She stared at me for a moment and then went on rotating the teapot, one way then the other. 

 My curiosity got the better of me and I picked up the cup again. I forced my breath deep into my chest and tried to calm the beating of my heart. The images started again slowly, one frame after another, one afternoon tea after another where Nana Ovia, Alina grew younger and younger; and then I saw Weirdo...freak'in Peter. My stomach instantly tied in a knot. 

He was maybe 15 or 16 years old, skinny as a beanpole, his hair much longer and messier, covering even more of his face than it did now. He was laughing, sharing a joke with his grandmother and mother. They were sitting on the floor in the sunroom, in a patch of sunshine, a plate of cupcakes between them and the tea set there beside them like an anchor holding the memory in place. His smile was too big for his angular face and sharp cheekbones, he had more freckles. The women were talking excitedly, arms flailing as they tried to outdo each other. I assumed they were talking in Romanian. We...Peter watched on amused. He looked innocent and fragile, back then there wasn't much of him, and a strong wind could blow him over. He was so sweet looking, not the stoic, sometimes intimidating man he turned into.