Ruins of Autumn

11• Her Name Is...

    Blerimi had planned to wait until November to take the next step so that Anila wouldn't suspect anything and that Brunilda had told her the truth about him, but he couldn't stand Anila any longer. He wanted to get rid of her as soon as he could, but he didn't have the luxury to risk it either. He was hating more and more every second he was forced to spend time with her, pretending to be happy in her company when he didn't even want to see her.
 
    On the morning of November 1st, he invited her to go skating, and Anila forthwith accepted.
 
    They found a group of young people there, standing next to the track and listening to a woman around her thirties with her black hair tied in a ponytail behind her head, who, from what Blerimi and Anila understood from her introduction to the group, was their instructor.
 
    "Skating has been my favourite hobby since I was twelve." She was wearing grey sportive trousers and a white short-sleeved T-shirt. "I had also started a cello course, but I liked skating more."
 
    "May I ask a question?"
 
    Mira was interrupted by a blonde teenage boy behind the crowd, who seemed to be sixteen years old and on whom the attention of the others was also focused.
 
    "Yes," she replied.
 
    "Why was skating your favourite hobby and not the cello?"
 
    "I liked that sport more. The cello began to seem difficult to me."
 
    "You mean, skating is easy? We don't need to work on it too much?" continued the boy with short, curly hair.
 
    "No, that's not easy either," Mira explained.
 
    "Why did you like it, then, when it wasn't easy?" he vented, criticising.
 
    "Because I haven't enjoyed the cello since the beginning, just skating."
 
    "Why not the cello? Didn't you willingly register to learn?" Klodiani kept tantalising her with questions.
 
    "Because I found it boring," Mira was losing her temper. "I didn't devote myself as much as to learning skating since the beginning, actually."
 
    "Why did you find the cello boring?"
 
    "Ugh! Let's continue the lecture!" She commanded angrily and turned towards the entrance of the track from the other side, so as not to waste more time dealing with his words.
 
    Klodiani laughed silently as he followed the group.
 
    Blerimi and Anila approached the black couch next to the shelves to put on their skating shoes.
 
    He felt the phone vibrating in the pocket of his black hoodie.
 
    "It's Denada, my cousin," he told her. "Will you excuse me for a second?"
 
    "Sure, I'm entering the rink." Anila headed towards the latter.
 
    Blerimi read Denada's name once more and answered with a low voice. "Hello?"
 
    "Your lack of phone calls throughout October is only justified if you have bought me a Lamborghini; otherwise, there's no mercy for you."
 
    "I'm fine since you didn't ask. Thanks for the disinterest," he added ironically.
 
    He hadn't contacted her so that she would not find out anything about his plan regarding Anila.
 
    "You have deactivated your Instagram and Facebook accounts. How are you living?"
 
    "By breathing." He had an active Instagram account, but a fake one to avoid being found by Amarildo.
 
    "The company where I work will organise a party tonight, and I can invite two relatives. Would you like to come?"
 
    "No, thanks."
 
    "Why? Come and let's talk about how life is going."
 
    "I've got other plans," he looked at Anila a little further, at the skater on the track.
 
    "Cancel them for tonight. Nothing will happen."
 
    "I can't."
 
    "You made me curious now. ... Have you fallen in love?"
 
    He moved his lips to reply, but the words disappeared like the invisible oxygen in his lungs.
 
    'No.' he had to say. It wasn't so difficult. Well at least it wouldn't have been if he hadn't had Anila in front of his eyes, skating backwards and doing some twisting movements on the rink with her arms slightly out to the sides to keep her balance.
 
    He caught the glance that she was casually casting around. The way she commanded her body to move with class without any seemingly strained effort, but perfectly at the same time, he managed to keep his eyes fixed on her while staring at Anila, dazzled by her beauty.
 
    "Ow!" Denada's exclamation from the other side of the phone brought him out of his reverie. "Who's the girl?!"
 
    "I haven't fallen!" he replied harshly, to fade the feeling that had risen a little while ago, and he hadn't been able to make it disappear without surrendering even for a few moments under its control.
 
    "Ah, OK," Denada said, relieved. "For a second, I was afraid that my plan would be ruined."
 
    "What plan?"
 
    "Blerim, there will come a girl tonight to the party... The second I have seen her, I have thought, 'This is the right person for Blerimi.' "
 
    "Denada, I think an old lady has taken control of your whole brain."
 
    "No, no," she laughed. "I'm serious. When you see her, you'll think I'm right. She is twenty years old, and her name is... "
 
    "No," he replied categorically. "I'm hanging up. Goodbye."
 
    "Wait. Why?"
 
    "Denada, at this moment, I don't want to discuss any aspect of my personal life with you. We'll talk." He ended the call with her and focused his attention on Anila again.
 
    He noticed that he was looking at her differently than before—not secretly angry and accusatory towards her, but gently and as if he could have feelings for her.
 
    Anila didn't understand how she suddenly got confused, lost her balance on her skates, fell on her back, and promptly put her palms on the icy floor, so as not to hit her head at least.
 
    "Anila!"
 
    Blerimi rapidly went to her, skating hastily, and shook her hand.
 
    "Are you hurt?"
 
    "No," she stood up with his help and wiped her black jeans. He looked at her for a long time to make sure that she was really all right.
 
    "Come. Let's leave for today." He led her off track and kept her under surveillance in case she suddenly needed his help.
 
    "Blerim, I'm very well." Anila arched her lips, surprised by the concern on his face for her, and yet he didn't change his facial expression. She slipped her white skates into her dusty purple backpack and stood up.
 
    "I'm ready," she smiled positively at her boyfriend and accepted his hand on her shoulder as they headed for the elevator. After the cabin doors closed, allowing them to be alone for a few moments, Blerimi turned to her and hugged her tightly.
 
    "I don't want to lose you."
 
    Anila was taken aback by that sudden hug and smiled, melting with his love. She couldn't see his face at that moment, but she guessed that Blerimi still looked scared of her fall while skating. What if she had hit her head and died right away?
 
    "I love you, Blerim." She hugged him back with the same intensity. "You're very important to me."
 
    They broke away from each other when the elevator doors opened on the second floor, and to their benefit, no one entered.
 
    "Listen, I thought of something for tonight," he turned to her after the doors closed again and his eyes expressed what, but Blerimi spoke anyway. "To have dinner at my house?"
 
    Anila understood what else he meant in silence with that invitation and smiled happily.
 
    "I agree with your thought," she said teasingly, and Blerimi looked deeply into her eyes.
 
    This was the life she had always dreamed of living, and the fact that she was living it without any obstacles or thinking about anything else added to her dose of joy. Her boyfriend loved her, Anila loved him too, and soon she would go to university in the major she wanted to have her dream job.
 
    Life just kept getting more beautiful than it already was.
 
••••
    Blerimi had everything ready by the time she knocked on his apartment door.
 
    At that time, he would have been at the party organised by the company, where Denada worked, and he would have met the girl, about whom his cousin had told him, but that could have delayed and risked, even destroying the plans that he had made until now, so he didn't regret that he hadn't gone.
 
    He had no interest in getting to know any other woman without finishing once and for all what he had started with Anila.
 
    She had worn a powder pink dress that evening, with a slit along the left leg and a V shape over her shoulders to the centre of her chest.
 
    "I was just going to ask you if you know why the moon looks a little dim tonight," he invited her to come inside the house.
 
    "I made a deal with her to borrow some of her light," Anila accepted his invitation.
 
    Blerimi closed the door and smiled at her.
 
    "I have given the black colour five stars since I first saw you wearing such clothes," she complimented his outfit that evening: the shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the trousers, and the black shoes. "And value is added more and more," she announced flirtatiously, clasping her hands behind his neck when Blerimi pulled her close and kissed her.
 
    They walked over to the rectangular table he had set up next to the large windows, with only the sheer curtains closed in the living room, and sat facing each other.
 
    "Everything is arranged very nicely." Anila looked around at the painting of an autumn landscape on the right on the white wall, the grey sofa and the round wooden table between them, the television set on the grey-blue wall, and turned to him. "And the food looks like you have bought it prepared," she referred to his cooking on the table.
 
    Blerimi smiled at her taunting. He assured himself that only tomorrow he would have to stay with her, and then everything would be over. He wouldn't have to pretend any longer.
 
    For that night, he played the role of the boyfriend in love with her as usual, flirted with her and laughed at Anila's jokes, answered her questions, and also asked, to show how interested and caring he was in details about her.
 
    When he was putting the dishes in their place after washing, his conscience began attacking him with an unprecedented force. Was he making a mistake? She was probably as innocent as Xhuliana. His sister would never have wanted an innocent person to be sacrificed because of someone else's injustice.
 
    "Would you like me to help you?"
 
    Her voice strengthened his conscience even more inside him, and he took a deep breath, not to be finally defeated by it but to tell her what the truth was that Anila had suspected existed.
 
    "No, I'm done." He put the glass on the shelf and turned to her.
 
    Anila didn't understand why a regretful sadness appeared on Blerimi's face, and he was looking at her, guilty.
 
    "What is it?" she asked, scared that something was wrong.
 
    "I don't regret meeting you, Anila," he swore to her, and she lowered her head, mirthful.
 
    "You're very kind," she said, almost in a whisper.
 
    'Leave!' he shouted in silence, and instead of that word, which he almost obeyed to say to her and to give up on using her for his revenge, he kissed her, ran his hands over her delicate, fragile body under that elegant silk dress as they headed for the bedroom, and let Anila open her door for the two of them to enter.
 
    She broke away from him to catch her breath as he began to unbutton the shirt he was wearing, which seemed to have been done on purpose to delay him as much as possible that night, to give him time to think once more, to change the decision. The last thing he wanted to do at that moment was to think.
 
    "This shirt is taking one star away," Anila remarked. "I'm warning you right now."
 
    Blerimi chuckled, undid the first three buttons and the last two, and took off his shirt more easily. They looked deeply into each other's eyes before kissing again more demandingly than before and moving closer to the bed at the head of the room.
 
••••
    Blerimi first made sure that Anila was sleeping and then got up to get the still-on camera that he had hidden above the flower vase in the bedroom window.
 
    He saved the recorded video of them sleeping together, left the camera in the wardrobe under some clothes, and then made a copy of her house keys.
 
    When he turned to bed and sat on the left side with his back to the window, Anila was still sleeping.
 
    He gazed intently at her softly sweet-featured face, pushed a few bangs to the side, and sighed deeply, feeling the ever-increasing heaviness of the weight of consciousness on his chest.
 
    He couldn't do it—destroy her as he had planned. He had only known her for three months, but he believed that that time was enough for him to discern even a single sign that Anila had been aware of Amarildo's crime against Xhuliana during all that time. She didn't know anything, and Blerimi couldn't go on like that any longer.
 
    The next day, he would tell Anila everything.