Nostalgia Ch. 01

Ana ... actually smiled back at him, and some of her nervousness shrunk a little as the wistfulness returned. Her grip tightened on her basket's handles as she said, "Mama mea era din România."

My Mama was from Romania.

"Ana Davis." She held out her free hand, hoping he would shake it, even though she was a woman and he probably didn't expect her to initiate a handshake.

Well, they were in America, after all. Maybe he did expect it?

Oh crap, what if he assumed she wanted him to flirt with her ...?

Well ... that wouldn't be so bad, would it?

To her relief, he did shake her hand, lightly so ... and then ...

Well, he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.

A fleeting ... yet still very real feeling ... something that hurt but felt lovely and she didn't know why ...

The odd emotion went away quickly. Ana was able to ignore it.

She was a little surprised, but not embarrassed. The hand-kissing gesture was slowly becoming less and less popular with younger people in Romania, and it was more commonly done with older women, but it was still much more normal than in American culture.

But, they were in America. So American culture would have to be the one to generally follow from now on.

Ana pulled her hand out of his grasp and quirked a shoulder. More of her mother's tongue came. "An old fashioned guy. How charming. What's your name, Sir?"

His eyelids constricted a bit. "Vlad Dalca."

"It's nice to meet you." Ana pulled her basket before herself and clutched the handles with both hands. "Are you here for business?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm visiting a family member."

"Oh, that's nice." Ana adjusted her hat. "I was born in America, but I used to visit my grandparents every summer ... they died."

His voice was even softer, his hands flinching, as he said, "You have my condolences."

"Oh, you're very kind." She took a single step backwards. There wasn't much else to talk about. She thought she should make an exit.

Before she could think of a polite way to say goodbye, the man spoke, stepping forward. "Have you shopped here often? This is my first time."

Ana nearly bit her tongue. "Hmmm ... I've been here a few times. It's really nice. There are more than books. There are board games, role playing books, dice, figurines, things like that."

"Do you know if there are any books about the local wildlife?"

Damn it, Man! She wasn't an employee here!

Ana stood up on the balls of her feet and stretched her neck as she looked around and pointed at a certain area. "There's a section for animals over there."

"Have you purchased any books from there?"

Ana put her feet back to a natural position and put her basket on the smooth floor, giving up on the hope of escaping any time soon. "No. When I need some reference pictures, I usually use the Internet."

Mr. Dalca's thumb hooked into one of his blue jeans' front pockets. That was a fairly big thumb. "Are you an artist?"

Her hands went behind herself, connecting above her backside. Her blazer made soft crinkly noises. "Yes, Sir. I've written a graphic novel and a webcomic. I've been working on another project for the past few weeks."

His grin was almost ... nasty. Ana's spine felt like an electric finger had stroked upwards. He said with a tone that clung to her, "I imagine that's a difficult job. Do you like it?"

And her heart softened again. Seriously. One moment, she was terrified of him. The next, she wanted to lean against him and share a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. Was it something he was doing, or were her hormones out of whack, or what?

"It can be very difficult sometimes, but I've been enjoying it."

His dense black hair was tied up, but some of it was loosening, forming a sliding loop. He didn't seem to notice nor care. He just kept on smiling at her. "Did you attend an art school?"

A shrug, and she said, "I paid for a few classes, but I never tried to get a degree. I used videos and other resources on the Internet to help me with the problems a class couldn't solve. I also had to keep practicing by myself." Ana had to sneeze into her elbow, which earned a polite word from Mr. Dalca. She thanked him, and then she asked, "Would you mind telling me about your career?"

Very slightly, he looked up. His creased eyelids flickered. A second or so passed, and then he returned his gaze to her. "I'm afraid that you might not think well of me. I don't think my career is as satisfying as yours."

Ana didn't have the patience for that. With a gentle yet urging sort of giggle, she said, "Oh Sir, I'd rather not try to figure it out."

A short sigh, and Mr. Dalca admitted, "I've been a landlord for some years, but I've also explored private investing."

"I'd imagine you have your own set of interesting challenges." Ana reached down to reclaim her plastic basket. "But if I had that sort of life in Romania, I'd be happy. It wasn't long ago that ... well, I wasn't born yet. I probably shouldn't speak much on that issue."

"I don't mind discussing such unpleasant things, but I'd much rather enjoy lighter topics."

Turning a leg and a shoulder, Ana said with a coyness she didn't really know she had, "I don't mind discussing lighter topics, but only when I know I won't be bored. Do you think you can entertain me for a few minutes?"

He caught up to her and walked beside her as they talked about the silliest, most random things. Apples and apple cake, sour cherry jam, dogs and guinea pigs, golf, American football, flowers, fashion trends, and even the sounds of rain.

Eventually, Ana purchased the books she wanted. Then, she let the man follow her out of the bookstore and into a cafe that was only a few steps away. She even let him follow her to a table and sit down across from her.

This was like a date ...

When was the last time she went on a date?

Goodness ... she couldn't exactly remember! She knew she'd had a few first dates, but none of those men had kept her interest long enough to have her wanting a second, which meant that nothing particularly noteworthy would ever happen.

All that had to be her fault though, just had to be.

Ana ordered a panini sandwich. Her new acquaintance took a while to figure out what he wanted, his eyes severe. Ana had to make a suggestion. Muffins weren't very risky.

More pointless, frivolous things were discussed. Bears and birds, decades old horror movies, and even old Looney Tunes cartoons.

When she started talking about other cartoons she liked, the sort people her age tended to have enjoyed, he smiled and nodded. Many of those particular programs were aired in Romania with the original English voice acting and Romanian subtitles. Ana assumed he was maybe a decade or so older than her. So, she was curious about what he used to watch as a kid, especially since many things must have been censored or simply not aired.

"Oh, I didn't like cartoons as a child, but my son loves them even now."

"Your son?" Ana hid her concern with a blank expression ... or perhaps that blank expression made her concern more obvious? There was a sudden twitch in Mr. Dalca's cheek. She went on. "How old is he?"

His eyelid twitched that time. Then, with a forced calm that suggested something was bubbling in his brain, he gave his son's age. After that, he hurried to say that he was a widower, but that didn't help much.

His son was a bit older than her!

Wow.

Ana hadn't ever ... tried to be so ... casual with someone that might be old enough to be her father.

Her hands shook. She couldn't finish her food. Barely hearing his almost pleading words, Ana inhaled, then exhaled, and she searched the purse hanging across her body for some cash. She put more than enough on the table, attempting to pay for both their meals.

"I'm sorry, Sir. There's been a misunderstanding. I should go." Her shopping bag from the bookstore made a mildly trashy noise as she took the delicate, thin handles.

She saw his large hand slide forward on the table. His fingers were curved over the shiny surface. He accidentally pushed a napkin aside. "Have I offended you? Please wait so I can apologize."

"Oh, there's no need for you to apologize." She was already out of her seat. "I'm the one who's being rude." She nodded in his direction and started walking away. "Goodbye, Mr. Dalca. I'm sorry."

She left him. She thought that maybe she should've given an excuse. Maybe she could've said that she received a text about a family emergency. Perhaps she might've pretended to be ill.

Her somewhat wide lips stretched out into a concerned and uncomfortable expression as she exited the cafe and walked towards her old gray car. Her straight nose wriggled as if there was an itch. A slight pinkness was flowing out from her cheeks, reaching her brow and throat. She got into her car's driver's seat and flopped her shopping bag and purse onto the passenger's seat.

As she drove on, she found herself thinking of carp fishcakes and her grandfather's old violin, which had been inherited by an uncle of hers. She wasn't upset about that fact, but she did miss the sound of the elderly man's harmless and genuine hobby.

Why was she thinking about that now?

Her mourning for that dear man had ended a long time ago.

But she thought she wanted to cry.

***

Jennifer Williamson was wondering about the two mysterious men that had caught her daughter's interest a few days ago. Apparently, while the father was kind of ugly, the son was like a god.

So, when Jennifer and Brook walked into a jewelry store (she was going to get her daughter a little present because Brook was her princess and nobody could tell her any different), and when Brook eagerly whispered, "Over there, those are the guys from Europe," Jennifer was curious enough to take in as much of those men's behavior as she could.

The younger one, Mihai, he was trying on a very shiny gold watch and asking his father, Vlad, for his opinion. The father's grumpy face didn't turn any friendlier as he said something that Jennifer couldn't understand, but she did think his voice was unusually lyrical and deep. The salesclerk, a plump woman, asked, "What did he say? If you don't mind me asking."

Mihai said in English, "Oh, I like the watch, but he thinks it's cheap looking. He's a silly old fart."

Vlad Dalca's large hand rose. His ring finger curled to touch the pad of his thumb. Then he flicked his finger against the side of his son's head. The younger man made a short AH of a noise, but he smiled. He had pretty teeth and fun loving eyes.

"I'll buy the watch, okay?" Mihai said after patting his father's shoulder.

Jennifer knew she had to say hello. Once the men had their purchase in a box and a shopping bag, Jennifer took Brook's hand. The two women marched on over to the men.

"Oh, hello there! You two must be the Dalcas!"

Brook spoke too, waving her free hand, her diamond tennis bracelets clacking against each other. "Hi, Mihai!!"

"Oh," Mihai Dalca said as he wrapped his shopping bag's cords around his fingers, "Hello." He looked at his father as if he was worried about something.

Vlad Dalca's broad shoulders rose in a shrug. Then he spoke to the women with a little smile that ... oddly enough ... had Jennifer thinking of leather, silk, chains, and diamonds. "Hello, Miss Williamson. It's nice to see you again." He nodded towards Jennifer. "Is this your sister?"

Well, that made her day! Jennifer giggled like a teenager. Then she playfully waved her fingers and said, "Oh, you're so silly! I'm her mother!"

His pretty black hair shining, Mihai Dalca said, "Oh, I'd never have guessed that."

Well, of course he wouldn't have! Jennifer still had a nice figure. Her hair was long and golden. Her face was smooth and bright. She knew she was still fine.

And these fellows certainly had excellent tastes!

After a short and polite conversation, Jennifer learned that Mihai Dalca had purchased an old mansion. Jennifer knew of the building. It was even bigger than the house she lived in, and Henry had provided his little family with the sort of mansion that wealthy celebrities would admire.

Jennifer managed to convince Mihai Dalca to consider joining the Fair Orchard Country Club. Henry was on the membership committee. She handed him a hurriedly made list of contact numbers and the building's address. She noted that Vlad Dalca was irritably tapping his foot and looking at a window during that conversation, as if he didn't see the point of a country club and he just wanted to leave the store. He had a very elegant pair of loafers on.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Mihai said as he put the paper into a back pocket of his jeans. Jennifer noted the tight, pleasant shape his backside had. She thought that feature just might have been hereditary.

And ... you know what? Vlad Dalca wasn't that ugly, really. Brook was just a bit picky with men. That's all.

***

Ana was looking down at her black loafers as she walked down the bright street. She heard crowds of people going on about their business.

Then, suddenly, she wasn't on the street. She was standing before a set of shoe lockers. She put the black loafers in its assigned cubbyhole. Her feet were in a pair of uwabaki slippers.

Someone tapped her back. Ana turned around. It was a girl with a round face and short black hair. She spoke in Japanese. "Good morning, Davis-san!"

"Good morning!" Ana was very happy to see her. She was known for being friendly. "Have you seen Takagi-san? I haven't heard from her in a long time."

Fast and without warning, the girl's eyes suddenly widened unnaturally, nearly taking up half of her face. It was unnerving and shocking. Ana put her hand on her heart and gasped.

And the girl replied with a squeaky voice, a cartoon's voice. "Takagi-san died. She died! How could you forget that?!"

Ana screamed.

And she saw darkness. She heard a running fan on a nightstand.

She was in bed.

What a nightmare.

***