"How old is your daughter now? Sixteen?" The silvery-haired lady smiles kindly at me.
"I was about her age, a bit younger, when I fell in love for the first time in my life and thought I was ready to get married." And she leans back in her armchair and laughs, her eyes full of memories and mirth.
"Why don't you tell us about it?" my teenage-daughter is encouraging. I just nod in agreement.
"It was a long time ago, after the World War One. My family lived in Krushevats, a city in Serbia. My parents were well-to-do people, my father a popular family physician. A circus came to town. Circus "Adria," I remember clearly. You can imagine, the entertainment was scarce then, so it was a great attraction. I used to go to all shows, except for the last, night performance. Day after day. "
"Did you go by yourself? How was it to be a teenager in Europe so long ago, after the World War I?" My daughter wants to know. I do too, for my own purposes.
"Oh, it was quite safe at that time, also everybody knew everybody, especially my father. The first time, my aunt took me to the circus, after that I kept going by myself. Watching the clowns, animals, and everything else, I fell in love with the circus atmosphere. I constantly daydreamed about joining them to spend my life traveling around the world. I could see myself in gorgeous, shimmering costumes, on a tightrope; dancing Spanish dances with castanets, even taming some wild animals. Soon, I started feeling a part of the Circus myself. It was not a dream anymore, but my reality."
"I know what you mean," I blurt enthusiastically. "Even with adults, circus has a charm that is not easy to explain. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you."
"It's all right," the old lady smiles with understanding. "Naturally, soon I saw the circus director, too. He was a handsome man, probably in his early thirties, already a widower. His wife, the only daughter of a banker, had eloped with him when she was eighteen. Sadly, she died, giving a birth to a little girl."
"How romantic!" My daughter interrupts.
"It seems people were much more romantic in the old times than we tend to be today." I inject my favorite theory. "We live too fast. No time for anything meaningful to develop."
"I believe so, too," the old lady agrees.
"Romance either happens or it doesn't," my daughter corrects me. "Please continue," she adds impatiently.
"I was watching the circus shows daily, falling in love with the animals, clowns, and the Director himself. Although I was about fifteen, physically I looked more mature, probably because I had been taking ballet lessons since age five. My body was pleasantly shaped and I was aware of it. I was spoiled, too spoiled for words. Everything had to be just the way I wanted it. I was the only child, you see, and it was too late for my parents to have more children."
I am listening carefully, nodding my head. A widow, I am raising a single child myself.
"Well, the Director must have noticed my faithful support of his shows. He probably wondered why I was spending all my pocket money on his circus. Maybe I had been staring at him a bit too much, too. One afternoon, after the show, he approached me and talked to me in a very gentle manner.
'Young lady, or may I call you Dushanka; you need not introduce yourself to me. I know who you are. I have been taken with you for a long time. I am only afraid that my dreams will never come true. You are too young and your parents are of better standing than I am.'
'I don' t care. I am not a child anymore. If I leave home, I can make a living. What you don't know is: I am a very talented dancer and have performed publicly. My teacher tells me I am going to have a brilliant career. My parents know that, too.' I spilled all of that readily, since, in my daydreams, I had rehearsed that "scene" daily. Now I looked at the Director questioningly.
'I don't doubt your talents, my darling, but I know your father will sooner have me arrested than give your hand to me.' And he looked deep into my eyes, pleadingly, exactly like in the movies.
"I could not believe he was actually proposing. I did not dare hope it would be that easy. I was ready to do anything to keep him. 'Then, I will elope,' I suggested."
The old lady lowers her head, as if heavy with the load of her memories. Her smile is still sweet but somewhat sad too.
"Oh, no." I interject." It must have been a wrong thing to say: he already had had one marriage based on elopement. Haven't you thought of that?"
"No. Nobody thinks much at that age, especially when you feel you are in love and ready for marriage. I wanted the Director to know how worldly and liberated I was. The word elope was actually new to me and I have never used it before. However, I certainly wanted to impress him with my maturity and self-assurance. I had learned the word "elope" in respect to his late wife and, to me, it seemed as an entrance ticket of a sort. I didn't realize that it was not exactly a good idea to remind him of it, or to show that I knew.
During our conversation, the Director chatted about my father, his profession, our family friends, the neighborhood, and so on, while I thought how nice and sweet he was. I didn't listen, enwrapped in my own excitement. I didn't doubt that he loved me, because I have been used to being loved and took it for granted. I felt the greatest proof of love was the fact that he proposed to me. In some books and movies, that was the ultimate proof of one's love. The episode didn't appear odd to me at all. Therefore, before I left, I told him I loved him and was ready to elope with him."
"What did he say to that?" My daughter is all ears. "This is getting serious." She moves her chair closer to the old lady's.
"So I thought at the time, too. He just kissed my hand and looked deep into my eyes. That too was just like in the movies, except that at that point they usually kiss passionately. I almost expected that."
"Were you not disappointed?" my daughter asks, smiling knowingly.
"No, I thought he was honorable and patient." The old lady answers seriously. "After that conversation I was completely sure I was going to do everything to marry him.
That night I took a chair from my room and placed it outside my window, behind the bushes. My plan was to leave through the back window while everybody was asleep. It was another romantic thing conceived in my mind, but there was a practical reason for it too. I couldn't leave through the door and go to the late night circus show, as I had intended, because -- you see -- at that time there was no television, and people usually sat outside, in front of their homes, chatting with their neighbors and relaxing, cooling off before going to bed. Men would smoke their pipes and discuss world politics, women exchange recipes and gossip. In fact, it was a nice community social time, better than TV, and almost as informative." She laughs mischievously, looking at me for understanding.
"I hear this from many people." I agree.
"Oh, Mom." My daughter sighs with genuine annoyance.
The lady proceeds, undisturbed. "My intention was to go to the late show and stay with the Director. I hoped that my absence from home would not be discovered till the next day before it was too late for a drastic, immediate action. My only fear had been that the neighbors might see me leaving in that unusual way. "
"That would turn the romance into embarrassment. Right?" I am reassured the story has ended happily, since the protagonist is sitting in front of my eyes, safe and sound, much older, of course, but evidently quite happy.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Previous to that, I had a little confrontation with my parents. That only made me more deliberate to elope. During the dinner, with everybody present at the table, my mother gave me a piece of her mind for neglecting my homework and my ballet classes and spending too much time at the Circus. I can still picture the scene..." the old lady leans back in her armchair and closes her eyes.
"...Our dining room with a big oak table, our maid serving the dessert, while I -- in the middle of my mother's scolding -- snap at her: 'Well, you will no longer treat me as a baby. I'm leaving.'
Nobody paid much attention, so I added, louder, 'I'm getting married.'
My father, who was a kind, patient man and whose pet I'd always been, gently smiled and asked: 'Who is the fortunate groom?'
Encouraged, I boastfully announce: 'He is a director. The Circus director.' Even saying that made me swell with pride. I knew they would finally take me seriously. Probably even envy for traveling around the world in those cute wagons. But, Mom and Dad just exchanged glances and my father agreed with Mom: 'No more Circus for you, young lady. Study hard to make up for the missed work. I want to see your homework. Understand?'
Pouting, as usually, I thought, 'I'll show you I'm not kidding.' I could hardly wait for the dark to elope." And the old lady sat there, smiling, as if tired of all the memories, unable to continue.
"And, what happened?" My daughter must know the ending, immediately.
Watching the old lady's fine features, I wait for her to collect her thoughts.
"Well, I used the chair to get out, went to the show, but the Director was nowhere to be seen, so I had to return home for the time being. My chair was still there, but so was my father, sitting on it, waiting for me. That night, for the first time, my father beat the heck out of me. I shall never forget the pain. It hurt a lot and I couldn't sit on my derriere for a long time.
It completely killed my passion. I was not ready to fall in love again for many years. And I have never again felt so ready for marriage, no matter what, as in that case with the Circus Director. He ended up being important, although not through marriage. Yes. That was my first love affair."
No comment from my teenage daughter. We are all silent, in our own thoughts.