The Bronze Box

part 3 & 4

Varna, Bulgaria –1998

Wednesday 19th August

“Is Tsvetan not joining us?”

Sasha slid into the chair opposite David Thornton and he watched, enthralled, as she set her handbag down on the white linen tablecloth. A suspicious look on her face.  He tried to hide his deceit but was conscious that she could read it in his eyes.

“No.  He couldn’t make it.”  he said, and glanced away looking for a waiter to use as a distraction.  His student glanced around at the lavish surroundings of the Bistro.  Lush feathery palms licked up the corners of the room and a constellation of flickering candles lit up the islands of tables laid out for two. 

Had he gone too far?  Was it too romantic here?

“You didn’t ask him did you David?  Go on, admit it.”  she sounded severe.  He twiddled his thumbs together on the table and looked down, preoccupied with the weave of the tablecloth.

“No.  No Sash, I didn’t.”  he admitted, a sheepish smile stretching his hot face. 

What the hell are you doing? His inner chatterbox yelled at him.

“I see.”  She frowned disapprovingly at him.  He took a breath and found the courage to look her in the eye.  He saw immediately that she was flattered by the gesture, like a beacon behind a sheet of ice.  His shoulders loosened when it seemed his gamble had paid off.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come if you knew.”  he confessed, brushing his hair from his face and fiddling with the arms of his spectacles.

“Why wouldn’t I come?”  she said, taking her bag off the table and offering him a smile. 

For weeks the pressure to confess what he was feeling had been building.  Every synapse had been screaming to him that this was a bad idea yet his rib cage throbbed under the weight of it.  She was beautiful, fresh and adoring.  He felt like she really understood him, and could see her intellectual potential.  A quality he found immensely appealing.  Ann had always been there for him, loyal and loving, but in their years of marriage he never felt she was a match for him on an academic level.  They had long been leading separate lives.  But Sasha was here, right now, and he was sure she wanted him too.  He had batted the possibilities around in his mind for days and necked a couple of glasses of Tvestan’s homebrew before coming out tonight.  He was a decisive man, and now was the time to act, before he lost his chance, or his nerve.  He let it out.

“I feel so foolish doing this, but I love every moment we have together, Sash.  You make me feel ten years younger.  I know I’m old enough to be your father and everything, but I feel so, I don’t know – alive - when you’re around.”  He was breathless from the confession, it had been building for weeks. 

Sasha blushed and giggled nervously at the compliment.  He watched, captivated, as she swept her unruly blonde curls behind her ears and rested her peachy pert cheeks in her hands.

“If I’d known you were asking me on a date David, I would have made more of an effort.”

“You always look beautiful Sash.” 

He finally said it, then fell silent, waiting for her reaction.  The social overtures played out.  It was a relief when the waiter sidled over and jabbered in Bulgarian at the couple, and broke the deadlock. 

“I got the word ‘menu’ but…”  Sasha held a hand out to David, encouraging him to take over.  He enjoyed her submission, he liked that - attractive and willing to allow him to take the lead.  He responded to the waiter in stilted Bulgarian, keen to impress her, who chattered back, bowed and scuttled off.