She nervously scratched her head and drummed - rhythmically - with the edge of her desk. Her phone, dark and silent looked down at her. He sighed and got up from the chair. Look at the time: 8.47
Okay, I think I can have a shot of whiskey while I wait.
She headed for her rudimentary wine cellar, the cabinet under the sink with all the valuables hidden: Olive oil, whiskey, and a forgotten tequila from her wild youth.
Does tequila go bad? Remember to google it later, don't keep it unnecessarily and it takes up space.
He took a glass, put a lonely ice cube in it and poured some of the golden whiskey for them to meet and hang out. She took the glass in her hands and put it to her lips which immediately left their mark. She looked in the mirror and after deftly plucking the one uninvited white hair from the top of her head, she smiled at what she finally saw. From university to now, now 35, she hadn't changed much.
Ok, I may look 5-10 years younger but I have to move on to the next stage of my life at some point! What will finally happen? Why hasn't George picked me up yet? Did he forget me? After he said he would pick me up until 9.00 to see what we would do...
Should I take him with me?
Get serious Katerina! You've called him three times today. He is also busy, you see, the dishonorable one. And of course I'm not the only one waiting for a call from George on Friday night.
She sat back down at her desk and looked at her cell phone. Dark and unspoken yet. She noticed on the edge of her desk a forgotten pack of cigarettes. He had been off it for two weeks now and was doing amazingly well, he didn't ask for it, he hadn't returned it to the food. Until that moment, when like a mythical siren the package called her to him. She reached out as if hypnotized and cupped the package with her fingers as her eyes roamed the desk to spot the accomplice in crime. She found the lighter, hidden under some papers - mostly bills - and brought it to the desk in front of her.
She took a cigarette out of the pack and held it in her hand as she took another drag. At that moment the phone rang.
George is calling you
"You are welcome;"
"Come on Katerina, I'm..."
"Come on, George, I thought you forgot about me..."
"I haven't forgotten you my Katerina, I had surgery, I just came out..."
"And; What are we doing;" she asked almost awkwardly, feeling all her blood rush up inside her and stop in her cheeks.
"And, for starters, we don't lose our minds. The result is negative, we didn't succeed this time, my Katerina. But we'll try again next month, yeah? Come on Monday from the doctor's office so we can make a schedule and I will also write you the medicines for the next cycle. Giannis doesn't need to come, I only want you. I want you strong. Hang in there girl, he will come, we will do everything for him to come."
Katerina took the lighter and lit her cigarette. He took a puff and with the smoke, out of breath he said one ok George, thank you and hung up the phone. She downed the rest of the whiskey, turned off the lights and played loud music as she paced the rooms, tears in her eyes, smoking the house she so longed for. poplar, almost transparent, but such an overpowering smell of a baby.
…
An invaluable but very soul-destroying process that a woman can experience is that of assisted reproduction. It is not only the process itself that turns something natural into something artificial and monitored, but it is also the waiting for its outcome that is accompanied by thoughts of unworthiness, self-doubt, loneliness and deep sadness when it is negative. All this affects the psychology of the couple, but the soul of the woman is deeply scarred. The admiration for these women, who try, persevere and wait for that phone call that will bring them and their partner one step closer to that almost transparent yet overwhelming smell of a baby, is also deep.
*Frontpage picture: pinterest