CHAPTER EIGHT

The Journey Begins

The sign said: The Sea, so far and yet so close.

Nina hesitated for a moment, Hmm, that might be a long walk. But when I get there (here, again, we witness Nina’s naïveté as it obviously didn’t occur to her that she might not make it), I will lie on the beach for some time and stare at the blue. Then I will jump into the sea and swim, swim for hours.

She closed her eyes recalling the emerald sea on an early morning when the breeze ruffles its surface and the sea shivers, like Jell-O. Or at night, when it looks like a dark cave, a big black hole that swallows everything that comes its way.

Where to? ‘So far’ means lots of walking and swimming, she smiled at the invisible person she was talking to. But I have always been persistent, and I can walk or swim for hours. Remember, that one time…

She stopped herself just as she was about to tell the story of the ball on the beach and how she swam after it for hours until she found herself in the middle of the sea, how she was rescued by a young coastguardsman. Not that story again, Nina stopped herself. Although, deep down, she was hoping that she would come across someone who ’d like to hear it. Perhaps when she got closer to the beach.

Nina had a tendency to drift off in her thoughts and start telling stories to an invisible audience. The invisible audience would applaud frantically after her eloquent, passionate speeches. She would gesticulate (never in real life) and smile victoriously, delivering her stories under the bright lights. She would provoke laughter and tears from the quiet and attentive audience.

Her stories had no endings. “But from now on,” she professed, “I will change the pattern and give a happy ending to all of them. Even the ones I don’t tell aloud.” Perhaps she was afraid that the children were listening. Or she simply made the decision to give herself courage.

Nina knew that the journey to the sea would be fraught with danger. She would have to run part of the way through sniper fire, hunching her shoulders to protect her pockets. She would have to carry heavy burdens, even befriend people she resented, do things she didn’t like. She would have to be humble and cunning, courageous and wise, creative and resourceful. Nina knew she could be all that. And she would meet many new people. New friends she would cook for some day, friends like Luciana.

All the books I have read must have prepared me for this!

Sure they did, my dear Nina.

Sure they did.

And yet, her knowledge of the world gained from the books she had read gave her self-confidence and power.

That is my weapon and I will conquer anything that gets in my way.

Sure you will, Nina.

It is quite touching, the simplicity with which smart people sometimes approach the world. And I thought that Nina was a smart person. I was quite excited when I found her. She was my first chef, collector of people, reader of books and storyteller, all in one.

“But is this the right thing to do?” Nina pondered aloud.

She stopped for a moment and began to explain to the invisible person before her, as she always did whenever she was not sure if she was doing the right thing. Someday she would be telling this story to a real audience and her story would change people’s lives. Criminals, murderers, nationalists, politicians, they would listen to her and, upon learning of her hardships, they would embrace her wisdom.

Yes, it is the right decision. I will walk to the sea and I will never look back.

Allons, mes enfants!

Ah, Nina, practicing your French even in grim times.