“How did things happen between you and Alessandra?” The momentthatname leaves my lips, I instantly regret it. Alessandra is the love of Emin’s life, and I just stomped all over it. I’m deflecting about my own complicated feelings about M, and I hate that I’ve taken it out on the one person who has had my back.
“Emin, I’m so sorry,” I speak in a softer voice. “That was a terrible thing to say.”
He shakes his head and smiles at me. “If your feelings are as strong about M as mine about Alessandra, then you are fucked.” My eyes widen, then narrow for a second, before I exhale quickly through my nose.
“No shit. Say something so I regain focus.”
“Switzerland.” Yep, that’ll do it. That place brings back memories, the place I held my last conversation with my father. And I’ll be damned if I back down on my promise to him and myself. I owe it mostly to myself to start fucking living.
“Now that you are focused again, have you finally found the voice within you that you have been looking for all these years?” His tone is sharp, cold, and full of anxiety. A slow smile crosses my face, and my friend instantly relaxes. The visible relief on his face is why I’m doing all of this.
Why I’m surviving.
“That’s amazing, Lana! Oh, one more fun thing, I finally located the previous owner of the hens.”
“Are you serious?” My excitement is barely contained. Emin nods his head furiously.
“Yes! The documents are at my home. I’ll text them to you later. Now,” he sips his tea, “I have a small problem with the tiniest henhouse.” I roll my eyes because here he is again with his hens.
“What kind of problem?” I ask him.
“It’s always so overcrowded, and I feel like the space is getting in the way.”
“I’ll build you a better henhouse.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you doubting my abilities?” I ask him. Emin raises his arms as if he is surrendering, then he puts them back down.
“You? Never. When will you be able to help me out?”
“Tonight.” I finish my coffee, and I welcome the warm liquid. “Are you all ready for Tuzla?” My question is fundamental because I want Emin to succeed.
“I’m all set up, and my brother will help me. I’m going in a week, if that’s okay with you?”
I grab the coffee mug and twirl it with my left hand, the silence between us stretching out.
“Definitely. Let’s talk about the details first. I want to be able to help you with your big responsibility.”
***
Emin and I finalized all the details for his move, and I feel lighter as I walk through downtown Sarajevo. The last of the daylight bled out behind the mountains, leaving the city wrapped in a cold, blue dusk. What’s slicing through the light fog that has settled low and heavy over the water are the streetlamps. Theair smelled of wet stone and wood smoke, the kind that clings to your clothes and follows you home, leaving you with a sense of familiarity and comfort. The city is asking for something, or someone, to break the quiet.
I stand on a bridge looking at the river of Miljacka, and I know what I have to do—treat myself before I head on to Emin’s to help him with his henhouse. I dial M’s number to see if he has anything planned.
“Hello, love,” he answers with a sweet tone. “How was your get-together with Emin?” he asks me.
“Good. Listen, I want to ask you something.”
“Anything, Lana.”
“Emin has asked me to help him with his henhouse in a couple of hours. Is it okay with you if I go? You didn’t have anything planned, right?”
“No. Will Emin also be at his home?” There is a slight edge to M’s voice, and it stems from an awful emotion: jealousy. Fuck, I need to play my cards right.
“He won’t be there, he’s working,” I answer him, and he gives me a humming sound of approval.
“Good, you are only mine.”
