Marina is 46 years old, has two teenage children and recently experienced a breakup. And this breakup she still has not overcome. It sounds brutal but it best describes her condition. Every now and then her eyes fill with tears without reason. Occasionally she gets silent and quiet in the middle of our discussion. She still loves him, but he apparently her not any more. At his side is now a young lady, who is little older than his daughter. The old story repeating itself again. I am sorry for Marina but I cannot help her. Nobody can help her, only she can help herself, I thought.
We – meaning myself, Marina and her two children – went to the summer theatre. It was a very warm July evening, cloudless and colourful, simply perfect to sit outside and enjoy a theatre play. After the end of the play we all left the open theatre benches laughing. All but Marina. No idea what she was thinking, no idea what went through her head. But she did not look happy and free. At that moment we noticed a violin player with pitch-black hair, just over 30, with a hat and funny black clothes, the trousers tight over the thighs and from the knees down wider like a bell. He looked demonic. Something dark, destructive but at the same time attractive surrounded him. He was not playing. He stood there with the violin in his hand. Marina did not notice him; she was too occupied with herself. Then he did two large steps sidewards and stood in front of her. So close that it must have been unpleasant for her, I thought. He brought his lips to her ear and whispered something that nobody of us could understand. Marina started to laugh. First just a little and embarrassed but then more and more open. And suddenly he put his hand around her shoulders, pressed her to him and kissed her. I had not really been prepared for that. Like Marina’s children and I had stopped walking and did not know what to do. I expected that she would push him away from her, that she would fight or call for our help. But nothing like that happened. She hugged him tightly and kissed him so passionately as one usually sees in romantic films.
I was surprised. That was not the Marina I knew. It took long, endlessly long. Then Marina freed from his hug, shortly kissed him on his dark lips and walked on laughing. The three of us followed her silently, shocked and completely surprised. The violin player took his instrument and played sweet, seductive and sad. Since that day Marina is no longer crying. Apparently there is a remedy against heartsickness, which I don’t know yet.