Maja lies in my lap. She’s quieted her tears, and her head rests over my heart. She’s so light, her weight hardly registers against my legs; so small, I feel my arms could wrap around her twice.

I kiss her forehead and rock her gently, cooing to her that old song she loves by Yu Grupa, Crni Leptir, Black Butterfly.

Street lamp throws its light in a circle

While the black butterflies fly towards it

But they don’t know that there is the end

They are killed by the shine of its light

Long ago I was flying, I was a butterfly too

Light was luring me, it burnt my wings

Black butterfly, fly to the night

Wait for the morning, the dawn will come

Wait for the morning, the dawn will come…

For a long time, or not such a long time, I sit with her there, watching the sky, waiting. Just waiting.

Then, like God’s paintbrush, the first meteor streaks across the sky.

“Draga,” I shake her gently awake. “They’re falling. The dragon scales.”

“Beautiful,” she murmurs, her smile weak and poignantly lovely.

As more meteors come into the atmosphere, I ask her softly, “Shall I jump up and carry you to where they are falling? Then we can both make a wish.”

Maja shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that. My life with you was like a miracle. It would be selfish of me to ask for anything more.”

“Be selfish, draga moja. Ask for the world, and I will get it for you.”

She reaches a feeble hand up to caress the side of my face. Her eyes, which reflect the starlight, are sparkling with tears.

“Then, if I could have one more wish, I’d wish for you to be happy,” she says, turning her gaze back to the falling stars. “So many dragon scales… At least one of them must be for you...”

***

Serbia

2006

Slowly Yugoslavia dissolved, shedding countries one by one throughout the 90s, until Montenegro finally declared its independence in 2006, leaving us all alone. This meant more to the adults than it did to the children, though we still grieved the loss of that formerly great republic. Of course, I had my own problems at that particular time.

Following my depressive episode the previous summer, I’d had several privileges taken away. I think my account of the parties, the alcohol and the drugs had shocked my straight laced aunt and uncle. I suppose it gave them flashbacks of my worthless father, or perhaps they harbored fears I’d turn out like my mother, ignoring their help and sound advice and striking out stubbornly on my own. Either way, they became far more strict after that incident. Not that I could blame them…

Refusing to buy me another mobile phone or pay anymore of my bills, they encouraged me to enter the workforce, and to ‘learn the value of the Serbian dinar.’

“If you think money’s so cheap you can just throw it away on liquor and heroin, then go out and earn it yourself!”

So that’s what I did. I got a part time job at the movie theater, selling tickets and popcorn. It took me a few months, but I was finally able to save up enough to buy myself the used Nokia phone that would last me throughout the rest of my high school and college years.

As for Maja, I learned she’d been sick in those weeks of no contact—deathly sick. She’d been in the hospital with a severe case of pneumonia, fighting for her life. The whole time Baba had stayed by her side. It seems she told Stanko to call me and let me know what was going on, but he’d forgotten, or more probably failed to do so deliberately. That guy had held a grudge against me ever since I said I was taking Maja with me to America, though I think his disapproval only made his daughter cling to me all the more.

For Maja’s part, she forgave me completely for the cruel words I’d said to her over messenger. She even admitted she liked seeing me jealous, and pretended to flirt with the boy at the internet club on purpose, just to get me riled up. What can I say about that? We were kids, idiots, and hopelessly in love. Everyone that knew us knew we were spoken for. We were practically a married couple from the age of ten years old.

Before I knew it, we were seniors in high school. Maja already knew she wanted to be a children’s book author and illustrator, but I hadn’t a clue as to my future plans, besides being with her forever. This concerned my aunt and uncle, who, after pestering me for months to settle on a stable career path, finally forced me to take an official career aptitude test. 

The man told me I was conscientious, dependable with a preference for working independently. Among the jobs he listed as a good fit for me, I was, for some reason, amused to see ‘large animal veterinarian’ listed. I’m sure it was the last job I ever would have considered on my own.

“Do they have to take care of dogs?” I asked the man.

“A large animal veterinarian specializes in treating farm animals, typically horses, cattle, sheep, etc..”

“So you’re saying I wouldn’t have to treat dalmatians?”

I recall the man pushed his glasses up and gave me a funny look. “Why, no. I don’t expect so.”

The more I looked into the profession, the more convinced I became it was the right one for me. Large animal vets worked in the country, typically, which was my dream after these last few years in the crowded city. When I was younger, Mama and I spent a lot of time around horses, and I was fond of them. Dairy cows, as well. I recall she was friends with a man who owned a dairy farm, and he used to let me feed the calves.

My grades weren’t a problem. Besides an overall high GPA, I had excellent marks in science and biology, and the idea of caring for animals (not dalmatians) in a medical capacity appealed to me.

That night over dinner, I told Aunt Tamara and Uncle Goran my plans.

“What’s the annual salary?” my aunt wanted to know.

“In America, over 100k a year.”

Her brows lifted and her eyes widened.

“America?”

“Yes. It’s where I’m going to live.”

Though I think they would have preferred for me to choose something in business or finance, Aunt and Uncle were nevertheless supportive of my decision. They took education very seriously and absolutely insisted on putting me through university, willing to pay for everything so long as my grades continued to excel. They were even willing to let me to continue living with them after I graduated high school, but as a young man, I needed my own place.

Maja and I had been in a long distance relationship for seven years already. We couldn’t do another year. At that point, even the prospect of another day apart felt like agony. So when I told her I had been able to rent a cheap apartment with the money I’d saved up from my job, she left her family and came to Belgrade without hesitation.

I remember showing her the place. The first thing she noticed was her space dragon painting I had hanging on the wall.

“Take that old thing down!” she demanded. “It’s awful! I’ll paint you a better one.”

“Never,” I’d said with a grin, pulling her hip against mine to claim her lips with a vigorous kiss. “That one stays on display till the day I die.”

Suddenly on our own in the big city, Maja and I wasted no time making up for all the years we’d missed, and lost our virginity together that first night. Utterly smitten and delighted with one another’s bodies, over the following weeks there wasn’t a single thing lovers could do together that we did not try. Though always with protection.

“No kids,” Maja insisted. “No kids, ever!”

Aunt and Uncle were on the fence about my relationship with Maja. They knew her well, of course, but they disapproved of what they perceived to be her lack of ambition. A girl her age ought to be in university, they felt. It was foolish of her to work part time while writing and painting on the side. She ought to be in art school, or taking literary classes! But these were things Maja’s family could not afford even if they had approved of her moving to Belgrade—which they did not.

I recall the day Branislava and Baba showed up at our door. Baba was nearly completely blind at that point, but that did not stop her from striding up and slapping me across the face.

“How dare you?! How dare you carry on with Maja in this frivolous manner? Will you spit in God’s face as well? If you’re in love, marry the girl! But do not continue to live in sin!”

“You must stop this at once, Maja, it is disgraceful,” Branislava said. “Return to your home until Žarko is willing to provide for you properly.”

But Maja wasn’t having it. I still remember the way she screamed at her mother, venting every grievance, I thought, after a lifetime of servitude to that woman.

“I did everything you ever asked me to do! I did your laundry and your dishes, I gave up my sleep to feed your babies! Now at last I leave your house to find a little of my own happiness and you think I’m going to just let you take me back?! Get out! Get out of my house, both of you! I hate you!”

Branislava was indignant, but I felt that Baba was sorry. While Maja’s mother stormed away, I hesitated with Baba on the sidewalk outside of our apartment.

“We aren’t trying to do anything bad,” I said to her, my tone slightly pleading, willing her to understand. “We only wanted to be together.”

“I know that, my son, and I don’t blame either of you for what you’ve done,” she said, tears in her old eyes. “But you must marry her, Žarko. It is the honorable thing to do.”

Her words stayed with me that night as Maja made furious love to me. The following morning, holding her close to me in bed, I asked her the question that was on my mind.

“Do you think we can get married without a ring?”

“Why should we get married?” she asked, nuzzling my neck. “I have you and you have me. That’s enough.”

“Still. I’d like to do it. Not to satisfy Baba or anyone else. But for us. I don’t want to introduce you as my girlfriend. I want to introduce you as my wife.”

“My husband,” she echoed me faintly, and that single word made all the hair rise along my arms.

We looked at each other with mutual understanding.

Yes. This was what we both wanted.