14. Oh my, cute radio guy!

Life returns back to our “abnormal normal.” My father tries to be on his best behavior, he takes his medication every day, and for the most part, he leaves my mother alone. I don’t hear about any more jealous outbursts, even as he keeps checking the clock obsessively every time she is not home. However, his grandiose ideas of being famous and  being a composer on TV and radio never go away. He is completely and absolutely preoccupied with it in all of his waking hours. 

As things are relatively calm now, I don’t travel home every single weekend anymore. Every other or every third weekend will do. Yes, I feel guilty about it but I have a chance to be away to clear my head and I take it. Emily and some of my other friends live further away from our school in Kosice and they don’t travel home very often. So we all have fun together on our days off. I am somewhat confident that there will be no surprise visits from my father, at least not until another one of his breakdowns catches up with him.

Several months of this routine go by. I am 17 and when I try hard, I can pretend that my life is as normal as can be. I can almost live like any other teenager. 

It is one of the weekends at home and I am actually enjoying myself at my grumpy grandma’s house. It is Sunday evening and it is time for me to pack up and go back to the dorms. I have an early morning Monday class. I decide, however, to catch an early bus in the morning instead so I can stay with my grandma this Sunday evening.

On Monday morning, I am predictably having a difficult time waking up. I sleep in late and then rush out the door, grabbing my jacket, my bag, my wallet. No time for make up, no time to put my contact lenses in, my big glasses will have to do for today. I get on the bus, sit down and breathe a sigh of relief. 

Then I notice him. 

He is sitting in the seat in front of me, but he is at an angle where I can see his profile. He is very handsome. I mean, really handsome!

“I have seen this guy before,” I think. My brain is working hard, all neurons are on overtime, trying to place him. “Ok, I know he lives on my street, because I’ve seen him from the window. I am sure he went to the same elementary school even though he must have been several grades above me because we never interacted before.” 

I keep glaring at him because I can’t help myself. At the same time I don’t want to be too obvious. I don’t want to creep him out. He must feel my eyes on him because he turns and looks at me, then turns back. “Ok, ok, ok, don’t look Jarka, don’t stare……oh my gosh!” 

A sudden light bulb goes off in my head. “Isn’t he the guy on the radio??? Frank, Floyd, Fletcher….what is  his name? Finnley! It’s Finnley, he is on the radio!” Now I remember. There is this newish radio station that every teenager and young adult listens to and this guy works there. I think I’ve heard him on his show before. I will have to listen again, I decide. Whew! I figured it out. I relax in my seat and stare through the window, fully aware of his presence nearby.

He gets off the bus first and I walk behind him. To get to my school building, I have to go through a big city park with narrow sidewalks, lots of benches, and trees. I have to hurry to make it to my class. But for now, I just follow Mr. radio guy Finnley. His stride is already pretty fast. And it turns out he is walking through the park too. For a while I keep walking behind him, but I really need to run. I will have to pass him somehow. I pick up my pace and attempt to go around him, my bags in full swing behind me. As I am at his level about to walk by him, I turn my head, look at him and say “Hi.” 

Oh gosh, what am I doing? I can’t believe I just said something. He hesitates, pauses, looks at me and says “Hi, how are you?” I slow down my pace to match his. Seeing him up close and straight in the face, I can’t deny that he is gorgeous. He has dark, almost black hair, and I think he may have blue eyes too. I can’t tell for sure. I keep blinking at him, feeling like a fool. Oh why, whyyyy did I not put some make up on this morning? He has to see me in my idiotic glasses. Ugh. I am so angry at myself.

“I, I, uhm, I saw you on the bus” I don’t know what else to say. I already feel stupid.

He smiles “I know, I saw you too.” 

I want the ground to open up and swallow me right there.

“Hi, my name is Finnley, nice to meet you,” he is so confident and calm.

“I am Jarka.” In this moment I forget all about the school, my class, my friends. I forget everything. 

Now we both walk slowly through the park, talking the entire way. He goes to college and studies engineering. I was right, he works in the radio station and he loves it. I admit that his voice is perfect for the radio and I am not surprised he was able to get a job like that. He tells me the times when I can listen to his show and he tells me he will play a favorite song of mine. He walks me all the way to my school building because it is on his way too. Once we reach the front door, we stop and face each other.

“Well, unfortunately, I have to go. I am super late to my class,” I say but I truly don’t care that I am late to my class anymore.

“Listen, Jarka, are you busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up and have dinner?” he asks.

I squeal silently in my head. He is asking me out. My big glasses and all.

I try not to appear too eager and answer “Yes, I think that may work.”

I burst into the classroom after I run up the stairs and speed through the school hallway. I am trying to be quiet but all eyes are on me. Emily saved me a seat next to her. I plop down, my bags next to me, and I am grinning from ear to ear. “Psst, I have to tell you something,” I whisper. In the next few minutes, I pass her notes recounting this morning’s events at the bus and the park. Her eyes get wide and I know she can’t wait to hear the rest.

“Jarka,” my music history teacher announces loudly. “Since you were late and you still cannot stop talking, can you please tell us about the early life of Johann Sebastian Bach?” 

Oh darn, I don’t want to think or talk about Bach….I don’t want to think about famous composers….

Famous composers…..radio…..TV..….famous composers….radio…..famous composer…..radio guy…….in all of my excitement, this obvious connection doesn’t form in my mind just yet. 

For now, I remain in my beautifully oblivious state of infatuation for a little while longer.