Lisa embarrassed me. I tried to explain to her that I had another relationship. She immediately dismissed this, insisting that it wasn't simply by chance that we met again in Sarajevo - it was tale!
I was silent, "Please, say something too!" she said, tenderly-
'I'm overwhelmed! I'm confused right now!" I explained. "I need to think about this- Please, do understand. Let me call you in a few days!" I whispered.
"O.K. But at least promise to come and see me in London!"
Where are we heading for?
The next morning I immediately telephoned Katherine and invited her to the "Kod Kibeta" restaurant, where we first met. "What's happened?" she asked inquisitively, on hearing the tone of my voice. "I'll tell you during lunch," I replied quickly, and hung up.
Over lunch of roasted spring lamb and potatoes - the same menu which we had shared on our first meeting with the enchanting view of Sarajevo's red roofs dotting the surrounding hills - I spoke with Katherine of the many coincidences of the past few days. We had a frank discussion about ourselves: she had the opportunity to fly to Rome, and I, for my part, had an invitation to London to renew a fond memory. What now?
Our time was short, but we concluded that what we had both shared over the past months was worth more time. We decided to turn down our invitations and lake a short trip to the Dalmatian coast to have a longer discussion about our relationship in a relaxed atmosphere, far from the pressures of Sarajevo.
On the same seat
That evening, Katherine and I were invited to a performance of Strindberg's "Miss Julia" in the Chamber Theatre in Sarajevo. Lisa, who was also invited, asked me to pick her up at her hotel.
I drove to Lisa's hotel. Katherine and I went to the reception desk and asked for Lisa. After some minutes she appeared, magnificent in something dark and red. Lisa enveloped me in her typical extravagant embrace and I felt Katherine's eyes pierce my shoulders. I introduced the two women and immediately felt the ice in the atmosphere.
We walked together to the car, Lisa relating excitedly to Katherine our shared experiences in London years ago. Katherine maintained a stony silence. I opened the front door for Katherine to get in - or so I thought - but Lisa came striding up first and motioned to sit on the front seat. But Lisa hadn't reckoned on Katherine's temperament. Katherine softly but firmly placed her hand on Lisa's hand, removed it from the door's handle, and invited her to take advantage of the comfort of the rear. Lisa, dumbfounded and furious, moved to the back seat.
It was a mild winter evening, but icy cold prevailed inside the car. The two women did not exchange a single word - and no one responded to my nervous preview of the performance we were about to see.
The same atmosphere continued during the party we attended after the performance. One of the military camps was hosting a dance in a deserted house in Ilidza, an outer suburb of Sarajevo. Katherine had recovered her high spirits after her "victory" and was in fine form, dancing the flamenco with a string other military admirers. Weary from the previous events of the evening, I was not in any mood to dance. Lisa was also subdued and sat, silent, in a comer. She told me that she would leave Sarajevo tomorrow, and that she would never come back again.