Chapter Text
Emilia called me in the morning, telling me to meet her at Bruno’s restaurant in the evening, to talk about something important. When I asked her for details, she only replied, “I can’t be sure yet, we’ll talk tonight.”
Her tone was serious, devoid of any emotion, which in all honesty isn’t all that different from her regular self. Emilia’s always been like this, probably thanks to her profession. As of now, she’s one of the top court prosecutors in Pogoren.
Bruno’s place lies in Pogoren’s main city region, about 40 miles from where I stay. I seldom visit the area, except for our annual “Victory Day”. We agreed to meet every year on that day at Bruno’s, the four of us. However, the head count’s only been three for the past nine years, Emilia, Bruno, and me. We all still live here in Pogoren, but we never see each other save for once a year, and I like it that way. Every time I see their faces, I can’t help but feel this weight crashing down on my heart all over again. I’ve been trying to put those painful memories behind me, but I find myself picking them up time after time.
It took a tedious two-hour bus ride to finally arrive at Pogoren’s city center, and night had fallen. The entire ride there I’d been wondering what had happened. After all, we only just met a couple of months ago. My mind ran the entire way with the churning of wheels beneath my feet, I was thinking of someone.
There’s still some road to cover after I got off the bus, perhaps an hour’s walking distance. Cabs are expensive, I usually walk.
For nine years, I’ve been terrified of walking the streets at night, I can’t forget the terror of bullets whizzing past my head. In wartime, we could only crouch with our heads pinned at our belts, one mistake was all it took to join the rotting bodies at our feet. Now I could walk, just walk on without a care in the world, but I still hear gunfire and shellings that I know are no longer there.
When I arrived at Bruno’s, it was already nine. Couple that with what’s left of Bruno’s business after the war, there were barely any customers left at that hour. Emilia and Bruno were seated at the round table right in the center of the diner. This table, with four chairs, has always been reserved for just us.
“Since when do you drink anything besides coffee, Emilia?” I peered at the wine glass before her.
“It’s been confirmed,” I barely had time to sit before Emilia spoke up,
“Roman’s dead.”
Two simple words, like missiles, struck me in the chest, aiming straight for my heart. I almost toppled off my seat. I tried to compose my body, my mind still buzzing.
Roman. A name we hadn’t spoken of in years. It’s almost as if we made a silent pact not to mention him ever again, but kept that fourth chair all this time.
Roman… Roman… A name I’d spent every single day whispering to myself in my head on loop, thousands of times, tens of thousands.
“Arica, I know you’ve been waiting for him all these years, to show his face again,” Emilia emptied her glass down her throat, “I know you have.”
“You’ll get yourself drunk, Emilia.” My voice trembled, but funnily, my eyes were completely dry. The years have made me miserly enough to not even shed a tear over his death.
“To Roman!” Bruno grumbled, filling all four glasses on the table.
We drank, but that glass remained full, just like that empty chair, waiting for someone who never came.
Silence, long silence.
“Jax Teller, the infamous drug lord Jax Teller is Roman. Now isn’t that funny? He changed his name, I can’t believe it, what a stupid name.” Emilia was completely drunk.
“They found him with his arm full of needle holes, think it’s an overdose. Right in one of those gorgeous villas in the suburbs. He’d been dead for days when we found him, his body was already decomposing, neighbors called the cops when they found the source of the smell.”
“My friend in the police department thought he looked familiar when they were cleaning up the scene, they were neighbors before. They confirmed his fingerprints this afternoon, it’s him, it’s certain now, it’s Roman.”
“Jax Teller, a man on the run since last month, no one knew where he was, no one even came close to digging out his den. Roman, you bastard, you’ve got quite a pair on you. But you died, right here, in Pogoren.” Emilia laughed.
I couldn’t take it anymore hearing Emilia talk, the weight on my chest crushing my lungs, my vision blurry, I needed fresh air.
I staggered towards the window, nausea hit me like a wave, I retched.
“Arica! Don’t you dare think you’re the only one hurting here!” Emilia roared after me, her voice cracking.
“Somewhere… over… the rainbow… painted black…” I could hear his voice, smell the alcohol on his breath.
Roman was dancing in front of that plastic box we called a refrigerator, vodka in hand. He was writhing like a snake, opening and closing the fridge door, opening and closing…
Roman sat there, on the wooden floor, playing guitar. Sunlight shone through boarded window cracks. He was golden.
“Arica, check this out! Look what I found, a guitar!” Roman’s eyes were in crescents, I stared at his canines when he smiled, that one tooth on the right stuck out, he looked like a young boy.
“I’ll never, ever be happy again, ever.” Roman’s tears landed on the back of my hand. He pushed me away, facing that same boarded window, in complete darkness…
……
“Arica! Arica!”
Bruno called from behind, dragging me out from my thoughts,
“What?”
“It’s late, kid, go sleep, Emilia’s already resting.” Bruno whispered.
I followed him to the second floor of the diner. We spent the night there every year on “Victory Day”.
“You and Gemma, how’d it turn out?” I suddenly remembered.
“She still won’t accept me.” Bruno chuckled, he turned and walked back downstairs.
At least Gemma loves you, and you know it. I looked at Bruno’s backside, but the words never came out.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open.
There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight.
I started remembering, all those memories from nine years ago, memories I had buried in the back of my mind for way too long.
It wasn’t a happy memory, but I kept remembering, again and again, every single detail. I knew, from that day onwards, I would dread losing those memories even more, more specifically, memories of someone.
Those cold days, me, Bruno, Emilia…
And Roman.