The next few weeks had nothing particular for Youri. Nothing that could be forgotten occurred in that amount of time, nor anything that could be remembered for a long time. They were just normal days, and the old man was more than aware of that. And he had nothing to complain about.
Even the conversations with his wife, Erika De Lof, who was about the same age as himself, had nothing to be spoken about for hours. He often told her about his past as a waiter, and she often told him about her past as a school music teacher; when neither of them remembered their past, they both would think about the future, not caring about the fact that they didn't have much future left.
"I wonder how my students are now, if they miss me", she asked at some point.
"Your students? I think they haven't forgotten you".
"If they haven't, then why don't they send me anything?"
"Maybe they are afraid or something like that".
"Afraid of what? Am I a monster? No, I don't think so. Did I ever look like a monster to them? That's also unlikely, because otherwise they would have never come to me again, but they have a million times. So what should they even be afraid of?"
"See, Erika, they have respect for you, and they don't want to get into trouble... and they don't want you to get into trouble either".
He stressed the word 'you' as if he was going to talk about something much more serious.
"It's not anything about you, Erika. It's about them. They don't want to risk anything and therefore they avoid being in touch with you. But I don't think that means they have forgotten you. Why would they? You were a good teacher for them. Were they good students?"
"Most of them were. About half of them became professional musicians, and thirty or forty years ago I sometimes used to go to see play them. I would do it now if I could, but it's not good for a woman my age to leave home that often".
"See?" her husband said. "They have become professional musicians thanks to you. If they didn't care about you, why would they even do that? They could have become something else, for example, architects or painters".
"Thanks to me? But I only taught them how to play music".
"You taught them how to play music, and with that, you made quite a work".
"Yes, but some of them were so bad that I didn't know how to deal with them anymore. I can understand if somebody can't get something right the first time, the second, the third... but if I explain it to them thousands of times and they keep getting it wrong, pretending that they don't understand anything, then what does it tell about?"
"It tells about the fact that they thought music was much easier than it actually is. This often happens: before becoming a waiter, I tried a lot of other jobs. They were all very good, but at a certain point I started feeling like I wasn't made for them at all, and so I quit".
"But a waiter isn't an easy job, either".
"Who ever said it was? But at least, I never had any trouble being a waiter".
"That's not possible either".
"Well", Youri slowed his voice, as if trying to remember something, "maybe there were a few cases, but they weren't that meaningful... ah, I remember now. One day, a customer had me waste about twenty minutes because I didn't do what he had asked me about. I actually did what I had understood he wanted me to do".
"But apart from that, everything was fine?"
"Apart from that, it was good".
Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden arrival of their son, whose name was Klaas.
"Hello", he said.
His mother was very glad to see him, but his father wasn't as happy. He thought that Klaas had come to waste his time by trying to get something from him, instead of getting it by himself.
But that was just fantasy that had nothing to do with things as they actually were: first of all, Klaas wasn't going to ask for anything, let alone waste anyone's time. Second, he was just going somewhere else, but saw their parents' house and decided to stop by.
"How are you, my little dear son?"
Klaas was fifty-nine years old, and he also had a son. Besides, he was ten years older than his sister. But still, he never got offended when his mother called him that. He even liked that.
"I am fine, thank you for asking. I was just passing by".
"How is your job going?"
"I don't think I have anything to complain about".
"Are your customers good?"
"Yes, they do what I tell them to do and we never argue".
Klaas was one of the best massage therapists in his neighbourhood. Every day he had a certain number of customers, all of which differed among them in both their age and their position. And he never skipped a day, even when he didn't feel like going to work.
After speaking to his mother a few more minutes, Klaas said:
"Okay, Mum. I was very glad to see you, but now I have to go".
"Well, if that's the matter, then I'm not going to hold you. Goodbye, and be careful".
"I'm always careful", Klaas answered in an annoyed voice. His mother would always tell him that.
"Oh, you're right", she said. "It's just my habit. You know, I'm always worried that something might happen to you".
"If something happens, you'll know".
"That's also right".
After he went away, Youri told his wife:
"And you talked to him so calmly?"
"Yes, why, what's the matter?"
"Never mind. I didn't mean anything bad".
"It seems like you did, though".
"No, just trust me".
"I should just trust you?"
"Yes".
"Okay".
The sun was in a different position than, according to the time, it should have been. Some clouds were hardly trying to get through, but something was stopping them. Just like something was stopping Youri from telling his wife what he actually thought about their son. Well, that didn't really matter, because she remembered hearing the two men arguing for nothing, really for nothing. And although much time had passed, she didn't think something had changed at all.
Klaas had a sister. Her name was Mégane, and she worked in a night club in Brussels. When it wasn't her work time, she often walked along the Belgian capital, observing the nature and everything that she saw. And that was just what she was doing at that moment.
"What a great show yesterday was", she was thinking, "I hadn't had all that fun in ages, and I think no one else had either. If only tonight's show could be just as great, that would be simply magnificent".
Suddenly, a man approached and greeted her:
"Hello, Mégane! Yesterday your show was just great".
"You have been to my show? Oh, sorry, hello".
"Yes, I always go to your shows when I can. And I must say that you're an excellent DJ".
"Oh, thank you, but that's not something worthy to say".
"What? Why? Are you ashamed? I don't think there's anything to be ashamed here".
"I'm not ashamed. I have been doing this work for at least twenty-five years and I still don't think I have reached perfection, nor that I will ever be able to reach it at all. But if you think I'm good, then you have a right to think so, I cannot deny it".
"I didn't say anything about perfection. But I really like what you do".
"Thank you. So will you come to see me today as well?"
"If I can, then why not".
"Okay, then see you".
She continued her walk and came across a house.
"What a beautiful house", she thought, "and it's so silent there, maybe it's abandoned. I should see what's inside there".
But immediately she changed her mind. First, she realized that just because no sound could be heard didn't mean nobody was at home, and second, even if they weren't, she surely wouldn't have anything to do there. So she just spent a few more minutes admiring the building, hoping that no one would see her.
Then she saw a bench and sat on it. It was very comfortable. She would have spent all the rest of her life on that bench, if it hadn't been long and if she hadn't had to do anything anymore. But she felt like she could not live without doing anything. As a matter of fact, she didn't want to live without doing anything. And she was very satisfied with what she was doing. Could she be more satisfied? Maybe. But she really didn't need more than what she had.