Right one at the wrong time

The hotel room

Chapter 16:

Ana stood at the edge of the bustling party, feeling as though she was on the outside looking in. The laughter and chatter around her seemed distant, muffled by the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in her mind. She almost felt disorientated and her attempts to make sense of her strong reaction to Cornelia’s performance had led her nowhere. She simply couldn’t shake off the discomfort she felt after witnessing the Swede’s performance. The moment Cornelia’s lips had brushed another woman’s neck on stage, something within her shifted. It was as if a discordant note had been struck, sending ripples of dissonance through her. It had unsettled her more than anything else.

Determined to find some semblance of logic, Ana decided to approach her friends, Kosta and Marija, for their perspectives, hoping they shared her unease. She found them in the heart of the party, their faces alight with amusement and ease.

“Did you also think what Cornelia did on stage was a bit...inappropriate?” she tentatively asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. And yet her voice was laced with a tiny hint of hope for agreement, for some validation that her feelings weren’t unfounded.

But Kosta merely shrugged with a smile. “Inappropriate? I found it quite bold and entertaining. She’s funny.” This was not what she had hoped to hear. His words, intended to defuse, only intensified Ana’s internal conflict. The ease and amusement in his voice was like a cold splash of water. He didn’t see what she saw, didn’t feel what she felt.

Marija laughed light-heartedly, confirming Kosta’s opinion. “It’s all in good fun, Ana. I think Cornelia just loves to test boundaries. And we’re here to celebrate. That’s what she’s doing.” With every word they said, Ana felt more and more isolated.

Ana tried to force a smile, to nod along as if she too understood, but it felt like a mask that didn’t quite fit. The conversation drifted away from Cornelia’s performance, but Ana remained anchored in place with the laughter and music of the party swirling around her. Why did it bother her so much when her friends found it harmless, even amusing? She replayed the performance in her mind, searching for the humor she must have missed, the angle from which it could be seen as just another piece of entertainment. But all she found was a growing sense of alienation. It wasn’t just the act itself that troubled her, but also her own reaction.

The stark contrast between the nonchalance of her friends and her own troubled feelings emphasised a deep loneliness. She realised that her reaction was less about social norms or the appropriateness of Cornelia’s behaviour but more about coming to terms with her own inner self.

Would she have reacted the same way if Chanel had been the one on stage? Or Monika? No, definitely not. And that was the problem. Her eyes lost focus and stared into nothingness. As if surrounded by a cloud of cotton wool, she felt completely detached from what was happening and from all people. Her mood plummeted and she was no longer in the mood to celebrate. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure.

“I’m tired. I think I’ll go to my room.” She had to get out of here as quickly as possible. She had no strength left to fight what she had been trying so hard to do for the last few days. Fight against herself.

Kosta, turned to her, his eyebrows raised in mild concern. “Are you alright? The party has literally just started”

“Yes. Like I said, I’m just tired.” And without another word, she turned round and left.

-

Ana had taken a taxi and was now back in her room. The light was off, but she had switched on the TV to mute her thoughts. But they were too loud. Far too loud. She didn’t even look at the screen, didn’t even know what was on and just stared into space. Around her the flickering light, casting shadows that danced indifferently around her.

She sat there on her bed - still fully dressed for a night she wished to forget, makeup and style now feeling like a mask that hid her true chaos. Her gaze wandered aimlessly back and forth from the mundane, yet suddenly significant objects in her room. The rubbish bin, the vase, the contrasting colours of white and black, her bedside table and finally, her mobile phone - each object seemed to echo her internal conflict.

Ana had always considered herself to be a person of certainty, someone who knew exactly what she wanted in life: a loving husband, beautiful children, a great career as an artist. And yet, here she was, questioning everything.

She was still having great difficulty categorising everything. But the need for order was immense. Konstrakta was here at a competition. She was here to represent her country and to win. She needed to concentrate. All of her thoughts should be solely and entirely on the Eurovision Song Contest. This strange blonde woman, who she had only known for about a week now, was not allowed to take up so much space in her head. Ana had to sort this out. Now.

Yes, Cornelia was attractive; acknowledging that was easy, logical even. In a very last attempt to find a reasonable and banal explanation for her reaction earlier, Ana began to philosophise. Was it not normal to feel drawn to beauty, regardless of the form it took? Was it normal to feel this way? To feel attraction that maybe crossed the lines of friendship, of simple admiration? And after all, they weren’t even friends in the first place. Shouldn’t her husband be the one who made her feel that way? The memory of the first time she met Cornelia flashed through her mind. The Swede was everything she was not - free, unattached, seemingly unburdened by the responsibilities that weighed heavily on Ana’s shoulders. She continued to think about the moments and conversations they had together. The kind of conversation Ana hadn’t had with anyone in a long time.

Desperately searching for an explanation that somehow made sense, she still felt a tinge of contempt and anger towards Cornelia. But perhaps it wasn’t towards her personally, but rather towards what she had triggered in her. Towards what she had done to her. What she had done to her just for the fact that she existed. That she was the way she was. Ana was on the verge of completely regretting that she had applied for the ESC at all. Then it wouldn’t have happened in the first place and she would never have met this woman.

But she did. Which was why she was sitting here now, incredibly afraid of admitting the truth. It wasn’t just the truth, but the fear that it could ruin her whole life. And it would. She was a married woman, for goodness’ sake, with two kids who depended on her.

Perhaps that was why she was trying for days now to reinforce her dislike of Cornelia by thinking negatively about her as a defence mechanism. As if clinging to this negativity was a kind of lifeline. Maybe it was simply easier and safer to hate this woman, to hold on to a necessary shield that kept her from facing the possibility of liking Cornelia - liking her more than she should.