It was 5 to 12

III. It was five to eight

My eyes were a little swimming in my heavy head when I forced them open the other morning. But the second I let out a painful sigh, my heart jumped up happily at the realisation - Jan! If this was still a movie, the someone saved my life tonight would've had to start playing loud. And I'd likely start much emotional weeping. No, I merely blinked a few times, stuck with racing heartbeat and heavy breaths tearing my chest apart. The night before left me weirdly feelings-dried-out. But gratitude was suddenly filling me fully - and absolutely everything that mattered now.

Jan came. And now he was standing in front of my cracked wall mirror, getting ready for work. No one would shut my heart now and no one would tear my eyes from the most beautiful mirror image I could imagine.

"Morgen," he suddenly met my eyes in the mirror. And the fact he wouldn't turn to look me in the face directly, that he went for German he'd not so rarely proclaim to be a horrible offensive language. I remembered the unsettled business between us. Which, from my side, was forgotten the second he snaked his arms around my shoulders. No, the second I heard he was waiting for me there. "Laura, I... "

I don't know what he meant to say. Words of sorry, accusation, settlement... I didn't want to hear them. I didn't want to respond to them.
"I'm so glad you came, Jan," I interrupted quickly. Glad, I was blind with thankfulness he hadn't signed me off. Too wary to forgive him all the harsh words from before in my recent state, too weary to revel in them.

I think he understood. His shoulders noticeably fell as if he released a hitched breath. „It turned out someone deposited an extra key at Ms. Stopfer, eventually..." he glanced at me still through the mirror.

I decided to not seek reprimands between the lines and rolled my eyes with feeble smile. „She's my landlady, not my mum. She doesn't have to mind my business, no?"

That be said, I was profoundly thankful she'd provided me with a roof upon my head (more literally than anything), especially in the thin years after I moved to Prague to start in the National Theatre ensemble, having, well, the budget I had. But, lord, she was the exact stereotype of a middle aged woman who would always stick her nose into matters that were not needed to be smelled, commented on, anyhow solved by her - at the expense of the things that would in fact appreciate her care, i.e. the state of my room, her god-forbid hotel.

Jan softly smiled, finally with his face revealed to me. For a shred of second it seemed as if he even contemplated hugging me. He didn't. Just tilted his head concernedly. „Hey, everything okay?"

„Ja, sicher..."

For a bad question, bad answer. I even refused to translate. So what he hated German, I always told him I was uncapable of learning Czech, and still he'd try to teach me the basics more often than not.

"Určitě?" his eyes cross-examined me.

Duh... It was nice someone cared for me, but I wasn't in the mood of talking. If I told him about the preceding night... he'd either get another grounds for his screw-your-job speech, or he'd start some sympathetic bullshit. No help out of my pickle either way.

"Well," he didn't let me put him off by silence, and I could choose between loving or cursing him for it, "for one I woke up with my shoulder wet... Were you crying last night?"

I touched my cheeks that felt symptomaticaly sticky indeed, as if salt waterfalls had splashed them or the Dead sea tide had run over them. And somehow it suited the hell of the night. But now it was morning, and I wasn't gonna cry when the dark was gone and my boyfriend was back and the... the bloody captain was nowhere in sight. I rubbed my eyelids glued together in the corners, and swept away all hair clung to my face, to cover the evidence when I carelessly shook my head.
„Hey, wanna some coffee before you go? You know, to get some use of Ms. Stopfer once more? If she's a solid keyholder, she's definitely a vetted cook."