Highfall (20 page)

****

Stefan opened the pack of A4 paper and took out a small stack of sheets.  He sat on the floor and placed the stack on his knees.  Chewing the end of the pen, he stared at the blank paper and thought... There was a melody running through his mind.  He could feel the sounds clearly.  But somehow the words refused to come.  Then the ones which did come to mind would not fit together.  Stefan wrote and erased.  Then he crumpled up the paper and tossed it to the other end of the cell.  The same process went on for about thirty minutes.

Stefan sat in his cell looking at the crumpled sheets of paper all over the floor.  What had happened?  Was it possible that the heroin had completely killed off his creativity?  Was it possible that his brain did not function properly any longer?  Would he ever regain his humble talent?  Wait a minute... had anyone ever said he had any talent at all?  Stefan did not like the turn his thoughts were taking.  He was talking to himself and he did not like what he heard.

When Stefan reached the lowest point of despair, he gave up.  He closed his eyes and thought of Annika.  He missed her to die for.  Stefan could even feel her scent in that stinking cell.  He recalled the taste of her lips and the sound of her voice.  Stefan recalled how she used to look at him when she was still in love.  From the last thought he felt warm inside.  The warmth spread inside his body and he felt happy.

Then Stefan recalled their story.  He recalled how it had all started, how they had met, how they had fallen in love.  Without noticing what he was doing, he took the pen and started writing...

“It was raining cats and dogs.  I could barely see a thing for the torrential rain on the windscreen.  Anyone in their right mind would have stopped the car and waited, since there was nowhere specific to hurry to.  But that’s not the way I am, so I kept on driving quite fast.  Now, when I think back I see that it was the right thing to do. My black car rushed towards my fate.  It took me to the only person who could make me happy.

She was standing at the bus stop – wet and vulnerable.

If I had not lost control of the car and had not hit her there and then, my life would have been completely different.”

The words flew out and Stefan wrote fast.  He was afraid that at some point the muse would leave him and what he had started would be cut off before it was finished.  Stefan put himself into Annika's shoes, and then transferred back into his own shoes and recalled every single detail.  He started writing their story.

Stefan thought that maybe for Annika it was just another love story, but while writing it he realised that for him it was not.  For Stefan it was his life story.  There hadn't been much before that story and there would not be anything beyond it.  So he was not writing a romance or a drama as a lot of people might think.  Instead he was writing the story of his life.

****

“You have written a BOOK?” Flame looked at Stefan, his eyes wide with amazement.  He thought that maybe this was yet another side effect of giving up heroin.  He couldn’t believe his ears, and would never have credited it had he heard it from someone else.

“Actually yes… I have written my life story and I need your help,” Stefan replied.

“What do you mean?” Flame still could not believe it.             

“I have also written a letter of enquiry and a synopsis for the book.  Please, could you make sure you send it out with the manuscript to all the major publishers in the country.”  Stefan sounded completely sane.

“You’ve written a BOOK and now you want to get it PUBLISHED?” Flame asked, looking at the huge stack of hand-written paper.

Looking into Stefan's eyes, Flame realised that he had never been more serious.  What could he do, if not be a good friend?  Flame took the manuscript and promised to do all he could.

When Flame had left, Stefan relished the absolute conviction that everything would be fine from then on.  He had no idea where that realisation came from.  But there was a calm inside him as if all the pain and suffering had been transferred to those sheets of paper.  They were gone and now Stefan was free.

****

Sitting in his living room, Flame looked at the manuscript Stefan had given him.  He was still absorbing the fact that his friend had written his life story.  That was kind of brave, he thought. Looking back at Stefan's life, Flame concluded that Stefan had been unhappy for the greatest part of it.  At the same time Flame realised that Stefan had never talked too much about himself, his thoughts or his feelings.  The book was Flame's first chance to get into his best friend's head.

Flame poured a whisky and sat down to read.  With each page he discovered something new about Stefan.  Either Stefan had never been as apathetic as he looked while drugged or else, in jail, once his mind cleared he had understood everything about his past.  Either way Stefan had a completely objective understanding of the reality of his life, something he presented in his writing.  He was completely honest and opened up to the reader to the last word.  Flame had a feeling that everything inside Stefan's soul that had been kept deep inside had poured out and formed a book that made the reader think and feel.

It was beautifully written and, had Flame not known, he would never have thought that Stefan was the author.  You might begin to have some doubts as to the damaging effect of drugs on someone's brain and creativity after reading this, Flame thought.

Flame read the last paragraph around dawn.  He had spent the whole night reading without even noticing how time flew past.  Closing the book he was absolutely sure that it was going to be a success.  After a few hours’ sleep, Flame was going to send it to every major publisher in the country.

41

It was a sunny Saturday.  After being promoted, Vasko worked quite often at weekends.  This weekend too Annika had had to entertain herself, something she was getting used to these days. The weather lured Annika outside.  She walked down the street towards the centre, to the small cafe where she liked to take coffee.

Annika was still trying to get used to the fact that she and Vasko had come back.  She had a feeling that she would never adapt to their new way of life.  It felt as if her old lifestyle had come back to her new self but the two were no longer compatible.  Perhaps that was why Annika spent a lot of time reading these days.  Through books she could escape from reality and go to places she could otherwise never visit. 

Annika chose a small table in the far corner and ordered coffee with a piece of chocolate cake. She took her book out of her bag and sank into the romantic novel she had started reading yesterday. With the sweet cake, the bitter coffee and the novel, Annika felt almost happy.  It seems that there was always an “almost”.

After half an hour Annika was outside again.  She walked, breathed in the fresh air and enjoyed the sun’s rays kissing her face.  With no particular purchase in mind, her feet led her to the shopping street.  She killed time looking in the shop windows and sometimes even going inside. Each of the shops had its own atmosphere, created from the internal design, what was sold inside and the music that was playing.  So her mood switched with each shop she visited, and she was enjoying the diversity.

As Annika went past a bookshop, she suddenly stopped dead.  It could not be possible!  Was she hallucinating?  She walked a few steps back to look in the bookshop window again.  Annika's jaw dropped.

Pride of place had been given to Stefan's book.  Next to it stood a big photo portrait of Stefan with a quote and his signature.

Annika stood there for few minutes looking at the portrait.  Stefan looked back at her with terribly sad eyes.  For the first time in ages Annika did not see the painful indifference caused by the heroin in his look.  His eyes expressed sadness and pain.  He looked alive again.

Three years had gone by since she had seen him at Monica's funeral.  Annika had not heard of him after that, nor had she spoken to Fame during that period.  Gradually everything had found its place in the past, where it belonged.  Annika no longer thought about the past.  But now it, he, was staring her in the face... now this book and this portrait dragged her back again.

She could not believe that the junkie she knew before was now a bestselling author.  It was not possible.

Annika entered the bookshop.  A good-looking young girl approached her and asked:

“May I help you?  Are you looking for something specific?”

“Mmmm, could you tell me about the book in the window written by Stefan Hristovsky,” asked Annika, who still thought that the name sounded absurd.

“Oh, that’s currently one of our most popular bestsellers.  It’s a very sad autobiography.  Stefan Hristovsky wrote it while he was in jail.  Actually I think he is still there as we speak,” the girl replied.

“I’ll buy a copy,” said Annika.

When she had paid and left she looked at the book in her hands.  Maybe after reading this she would finally understand him completely, she thought.  Maybe his life story would finally make her understand why things had happened the way they had.  Maybe this was the book with the answers to all the questions she had spent years asking herself.  Annika grasped the book more firmly and walked towards the cafe where she had drunk coffee just a few hours before.

When Annika went into the café, the table she had sat at earlier was vacant and she went straight back to it.  After giving her order, Annika glanced at her watch and saw that she had at least three hours to herself.  She opened the book and started reading.

The book started from their meeting at the bus stop.  Now Annika had the privilege of reading about everything from Stefan’s point of view.  Although in that period they had understood each other without words or explanations, it was still really interesting to see what he had to say about everything they had been through.

She read hungrily, swallowing each idea, each feeling and each detail.  Annika had a feeling that she was watching a movie.  The images and scenes were so vivid that everything flashed before her eyes once more.  Annika relived her past and went back to the times when everything was completely different.

Annika was turning the pages.  Depending on which page she was on, she either smiled or cried. People in the cafe would look at her from time to time.  A young couple even discussed whether to go over to her and see if she needed help.  At the end they decided against it.  She looked like someone who might prefer to stay completely alone with her book.

...”Annika was completely soaked by the heavy raindrops, but she did not even notice.  My voice and the car driving beside her seemed to irritate her.

“I will not let you go, do you understand?” I shouted at her through the window.

Annika stopped, turned around to face the car and cried at the top of her lungs

“I HATE YOU!!!”

I could not believe my ears.  I felt as if she had stabbed me with a knife... I even lost my breath for a few seconds.  Then the shock and the heroin kicked in.  I shouted back

“I won't let you go, even if you hate me!” and floored the accelerator.  I drove at her.

Annika did not move...”

Annika shivered recalling that tragic day.  So much had happened after that and both were so different now.  Life had sent them off in completely different directions and they had both found their loyal partners who were supposed to make them happy.  For Annika it was Vasko, and for Stefan it was heroin.  They had both had plans together, but life had had its own plans.  And now, as Annika saw, life was more powerful and its plans never changed.  In fate's hands, life always did what it had decided to do.

Annika sipped the coffee and dried her eyes.  She had had no idea that after such a long time she would feel everything with such force.  She was not prepared for her reaction.  Neither had she had any idea what a huge impact Stefan's book would have on her.  After all
, the guy had never left her life completely, no matter what.

Annika did not notice the three hours flying by.  She had to go back home and prepare dinner.  Reality dragged her away from the book and the past.  She looked around until it dawned on her where she was, what time it was and how little the book’s content had to do with her now.  Although it was partly her life too, she had a feeling that it was about a different Annika.  She was no longer the nice naive sweet girl Stefan had written about.  Life was no longer a carefree ride with joyful events.  Things had changed and she was happy.