The green-eyed girl

I lived in a small Romanian village on the banks of the Râmnic River where I was a student in pilot training. It was on my day off that I met a girl with eyes resembling hers. Arriving downtown, I sat down on a bench. In the alley, a girl wearing a tracksuit and holding a ball stopped in front of me and said: "Don’t I know you from somewhere? Last Sunday, we had a game and I met someone who looked like you. Want to come along with me to practice?"

We started down the alley together. The girl was very cheerful and every two steps she bounced the volleyball on the sidewalk. "Where do you have practice?", I asked. "At the high school, it’s really close", was her reply. "Here we are, walking together, talking, but we don’t know each other", I said uncomfortably. She said nothing. Not then, not later.  

After practice, I walked her home and waited for her to change. Soon she came out in a light blue outfit. We walked down the street holding hands. When I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, I felt good. Her hair, the colour of roasted chestnuts, fell down upon her shoulders, uneven, wavy. Those beautiful eyes.  

Bringing myself back to reality for a moment, my nurse was ready with my fistulae.

We crossed over towards the bridge across the Râmnic River. She didn’t ask where we were going while she talked about school and her classmates. On the bridge, we suddenly stopped. We leaned against the railings and touched. The girl turned towards me and covered my mouth with one hand. She was almost as tall as me, and it was only then that I could fully see her bluish-green eyes. Right there, on that bridge above the smooth, flowing water, our lips met in a kiss.  

"Is there anything that hurts or bothers you?", asked the nurse. I suddenly sobered up from my memories and managed to answer, "No, everything’s fine."  

In response to the nurse’s question, the pilot in me almost came out. "All secure on board", I thought to myself, just like back then, many years ago, on the Bobocu airfield. That was the same week when we first year students were flying solo. When I found myself alone in the cockpit, strapped to the seat, an ineffable feeling came over me. It was excitement and anxiety at the same time. I started the engine. Its pulse throbbed deeply into my veins, just as the pump of the dialysis machine now gets my blood going.

I checked the flight direction. It was correct. I don’t know how long I flew, but my eyes were glued to the controls and the hill’s irregular crests. My heart seemed to have stopped beating and I couldn’t believe what I saw. The pressure indicator pointer was moving erratically; I leaned on the lever and turned left.

"I’m coming back. The motor oil pressure is dropping", I reported. All sorts of thoughts swirled through my head. A pair of bluish-green eyes seemed to be watching my every move from the mirror of the position compass. I checked my parachute ties. ‘Engine rotation speed is dropping", I said. "Look for a spot and land", the flight manager ordered. I looked down and all I could see was the uneven land sliding rapidly below me.

"I’m going to try to make it to the airfield", I found myself saying. The railway, the acacia cluster, and the training ground. The guardhouse and the tennis courts. I was very close to home. I am 5 km away from the threshold’, I said. "Runway is clear. You can land", came the response.

The engine coughed a few times then stopped. Lever to my chest. The chair jostled me a few times. The brakes screeched in my body. I stopped the plane beyond mid-runway. I can’t say I was scared, but I felt tiredness overcome my entire body and could barely move. I saw faces above me and arms pulling me out of the seat. Then I was stretched out on the grass and the wind was beating against my cheek. I had to find that green-eyed girl again.