Free Baltimore by Jelena Lengold Page B

strongest suitcase of all, like me! Besides, this kid is getting on my nerves.’”
    “So, the suitcase feels no compassion whatsoever for the child?”
    “Well… it does, actually, but its duty comes first. The suitcase can’t allow its emotions to get the better of it because this would have a negative effect on its performance. To the suitcase, the dresses it holds inside are the most important things in the world. When it reaches its destination, everything must look perfect.”
    “Does anyone in the house notice what the child is feeling?”
    “No, no one. Maybe just the door.”
    “What is the door like?”
    “Old and wise. It has seen so much, but it’s powerless to do anything. The door has seen things no one else has.”
    She was silent for a while. She was thinking, I guess, whether or not to ask.
    “What has the door seen?”
    I took a few more strips from the roll of toilet paper. Everything was so surreal. The spring afternoon, the voices in the street, me sitting in a nice wicker chair, the woman sitting across from me, listening to me talk about what the suitcase and the door were saying as if it was the most normal thing in the world. I couldn’t help but observe this scene from the outside as well, the entire time. This made me feel even sadder. I saw myself, a pathetic, desperate, middle-aged woman, sitting there and crying over something that was meaningless, something that happened ages ago.
    “The door saw this child kneeling a few times on the door mat, out of fear.”
    “Did the child kneel anywhere else, or was it just in that one place?”
    “Just there. In front of the door. Several times.”
    “Is there, someone who senses what the child is feeling?”
    “There is. My grandfather. And nobody else.”
    “And now? What’s the situation now? Who takes care of this child now?”
    I didn’t have to think twice.
    “My husband,” I said. “He’s the one who takes care of me.”
    “And do you think you do the same for him?”
    “No. I neglect him. My attention is directed towards other things and other people, least of all him. I sometimes feel guilty because of this.”
    “And in the meantime, life goes by,” she said, in a manner which wasn’t quite like her.
    It occurred to me that she might have recognized something from her own life.
    We both looked at the clock. My time was running out. It was time for me to wipe my tears and walk out of there all bloated from crying. Giving me time to slowly return to normal, she continued:
    “You have very strong abandonment issues. It’s as if you’re in constant fear of being abandoned. You know, I found the games I too played in my life very interesting and later, I analyzed them. Maybe your game is to compensate for your fear of abandonment by abandoning others….”
    If only you knew, I thought to myself, how appealing the idea of abandonment is! To leave everything behind and go live on a mountain. To leave everything and live in sin somewhere where it’s warm and where the wind is soft. To radically change your life, take a new name and live on some other continent. To abandon yourself. Above all, yourself. To be carefree, beautiful, new, and young in someone else’s skin! If you only knew….

Luka? Let’s see what someone named Luka is doing in this chat room. I click on his name twice.
    “Hi, baby. Busy?”
    “Hi. No, not really.”
    “Quite a familiar name.”
    “Is it?”
    “Yeah. Very. Where are you from, Luka?”
    “Belgrade, Serbia.”
    “No kidding?”
    “Nope.”
    “Well, Luka, I think I have a surprise for you.”
    “Surprise me, baby….”
    “No need for your English anymore, sweetie.”
    “WOW!”
    “Wow is right! Belgrade online as well.”
    “Oh, great!!! I’ve never met anyone here before from our parts! Phenomenal! To be honest, I was getting tired of the English.”
    “How old are you Luka?”
    “Twenty-five.”
    “Oh, still a baby.”
    “What about you, Lucy?”
    “Hmmm, a little older