Branka and I went to Hydronetta. But first we stopped at Sunset for lunch.
Coming down the steps, we saw my intergalactic husband immediately, on the right. He was with his publisher from Paris, named Opher Christ.
Both wet. They had just come out of the sea.
Hydronetta was full, so we climbed a little higher and found two empty tables. Ten minutes later my intergalactic husband passed us. The passage to the toilet runs through there.
People go in wet and come back dry.
When he returned, he was already dry. This time we entered the physical world.
I introduced him to Branka:
This is my husband. We have two children. I told you about him. That’s what I said.
Branka laughed. She is a professional actress, a very good one. She behaved as if she already knew everything.
She offered her hand and they shook hands: I’m Branka.
My intergalactic husband repeated her name.
Branka.
Branka.
Branka.
Three times, perhaps more. Nobody knows why. Maybe he was afraid of forgetting. Maybe repetition is a small technology against dementia. Or maybe the body had already decided something and he was merely carrying out the instructions.
Branka said:
You don’t have to keep repeating my name. It’s simple. Branka.
He did not touch me. He only said, from a distance:
I have a call.
And left. Apparently the call was intergalactic. Branka actually did have a call. A real call. So I waited for her to finish the call.
Then we went down into the blue. There were many people in the water. It did not matter. Some landscapes are too large to be cancelled by people.
When I came out of the sea, I had a WhatsApp message from my friend Maša Dakić:
Why don’t you feed your husband? He’s hungry. He ate everything on our table.
Maša is an actress too, one of my funniest friends. She lives in New York and with her husband, runs a famous Serbian restaurant in the East Village called KAFANA.
I wrote back:
He’s always on a business trip and calls. I never have time to feed him. At least our children are never hungry. I give them warm milk every night before bed.
Then Maša came to Hydronetta beach and told me what had actually happened. My intergalactic husband had approached their table. He asked what they were eating.
Maša gave him a spoon. He stood there eating chickpeas. Then he asked where she was from.
Serbia, she said.
and then my intergalactic husband asked:
Do you maybe know Branka and my kooky wife Julija?
Maša said:
Of course.
Then she asked:
Why kooky?
He said:
Because she’s crazy.
Maša answered:
We are all crazy. And we need people like Julija in this world.
Then he left the table. Happy ending. I laughed so sweet while Maša was telling me what had happened. I was sorry I hadn’t been there to see it. But then I realized: if I had been there, my intergalactic husband would never have approached the table. So this was probably the only possible version of the event. My absence was necessary for the event to occur.
There are things that can happen only when we are not present.
My intergalactic husband thinks I am crazy. I think I am poetic. These may be two names for the same condition.
Perhaps one day my intergalactic husband will understand. But I hope not in this life. Perhaps in another one. When he is a little braver and when he stops being my intergalactic husband.
When he finally realizes that where fear ends, life begins.
