The Driver

CHAPTER 7

In those three days I stayed in Brasov I met Izabela a few times. Either accidentally in the hotel lobby or at some coffee shop. We used to have fun every time because of our experience in the elevator.  On my last night there I invited her to dinner.

        I could not leave without the opportunity to be as close to her as possible for the last time. I did not know if there was a chance to see each other again in the future. There was a great attraction between us, and I still was not convinced if she felt the same way.

        I did not have the courage to ask her, and there was no point in going into detail because I did not want to ruin the evening.

        I had chosen a less sophisticated and elegant restaurant precisely so as not to give it the impression that it was a romantic dinner.

        She was gorgeous, as usual. She wore a red T-shirt that pointed out her breasts and tight jeans. She was having beautiful and appetizing shapes.

        I have imagined a few times what she would have looked like naked. I think she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

        I wanted to discover everything about her, but she was so locked in her that in those three days I could only find out that she liked to travel and that she was a writer.

        She did not stay in the same place much so she would not get attached to the people she met and especially the places she visited.

        Many years before she swore that she would be alone for the rest of her life. She had suffered enough, and she was sometimes forced by circumstances to do things she did not want to do or that did not cause her any pleasure.

        She had been humiliated too many times and forced to live a life she did not want. She always felt trapped in a life that was not hers and did not belong to her, and now she just wanted to be free as the bird of the sky.

        Our dinner went better than I expected. We were both very relaxed and laughed all the time. Even though we both had a dark side in our hearts, we still had the strength to laugh and make every moment worth the effort.

        I took the liberty of touching her hand. She did not pull her hand and that gave me the courage to keep touching her. I could even see the pain behind the forced smile she was trying to show me.

        I drove her back to the hotel even though we came separately to the restaurant and we separated in the hallway saying goodbye. We exchanged phone numbers and she promised to invite me for coffee when she will be back in Bucharest after two days.

        I approached her and kissed her. She did not retreat, and she hugged me. I hugged her and we stood there, motionless, for a few minutes. I needed that hug as much as she did.

        I walked into my room and threw myself on the bed. I did not know exactly what I was feeling at the time, but I felt good in her company.

        I felt silence in my heart that I had never felt before and I could not tell if I had to be afraid or if I just had to enjoy it.

        I did not have the wounds healed yet to be ready for a relationship, but I still wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.

        I turned my mind to the times when I worked on the community to distract myself from Izabela.

        She was in the room next to mine and I did not want to run into her just because my imagination was going crazy.   Sometimes it is hard to talk about what one of the hardest jobs in the world means. It becomes even more difficult when you see how much ignorance lies behind conclusions reached by those who do not know but rule anyway.

        Being a community driver is not about sitting on a chair and standing the wheel. To those who continue to support such aberrations, I recommend that they imagine what a community driver is going through and what they are experiencing! 

        Only drivers or their families can really tell the story behind the story, a really sad one!  What does it really mean to be a community driver?

        It means sacrifice. It means months spent away from home, in which the instrument of your work becomes, either you want it or not a roof over your head.

        It means exhaustion. A 2/2 space in the happiest case, where you must pile up everything you need to survive: clothes, bedding, cooking pots, and food.

        A time bomb dressed in a cylinder, the only hope at a hot meal, locked in a dangerously close cage to you. Zero comforts, zero privacy, zero conditions.

        However, the demands of you as a driver are high. You are asked for efficiency, promptness, fairness, and not least the quality of knowing how to handle and dealing with any situation.

        That you are exhausted, that you have been driving unknowingly, that you have not had a shower in days or that you are uneaten, it is nobody's problem.

        When uploads and downloads, you often agonize. At night it puts a lid on you... find parking, a parking lot where you can be as safe from thieves and robbers who have multiplied more than mushrooms after the rain.

        You open a can with cold food, you tie your doors tightly with straps, if you want to wake up alive, you pray that no one gives you tear gas at the yale or in winter at the sirocco’s intake while you sleep, and you fall into a deep sleep.

        In the morning you wake up in the same purgatory. You call your family for two minutes if you have the chance. You tell them everything is fine while you want to scream, and you hit the road.

        You are trying to get your own way at the thought that maybe today you can get to eat something warm, wash, or get through the middle of the day without feeling like you are collapsing.

        For those who do not want to understand how "easy" it is, we would tell them it is better not to find out. Until you call them "community drivers" think that everything you buy from the corner of your building or from supermarkets, only arrives with their help in warehouses.

        And for all of you, your friends, their relatives, or their wives, you should have all the respect in the world for what we do as community drivers.

        It does not make up for the hard life you lead, because we are aware that it is not easy for you either, but at least you know that you are always in our thoughts.

        I think I was already starting to speak out loud. I did not know if I was talking to anyone or I was starting to have imaginary friends that I was scolding for not knowing what life as a driver meant. Only my colleagues understood what I was going through.

        When I was talking to my family, they told me that I chose this job and I should not complain. I often preferred to talk to myself in the car so as not to tell them what I am going through. Even my wife could never understand me.

        I left Brasov early so I would not meet Izabela. I was so confused that I did not want to see her even though I knew her presence was all I wanted.

        When I got home, I realized for the first time that all that caused me the pain was loneliness. My time with Izabela made me think of myself as a man and as a human being. I only had casual relationships that involved only s*x.

        I did not want to fall in love anymore. I could not afford that after being repeatedly deceived by my ex-wife. The first time I had been cheated right after I had left in the race, shortly after our honeymoon. I felt something was wrong and I got back out of the way.

        I found out through my methods where exactly it was going to happen, and I went straight there. I was shocked by what I saw even though I knew what was going on. I remained disgusted and hurt forever. I swore to myself I would never trust a woman again.

        By her methods of a witch, she finally convinced me to forgive her. She promised me that it would never happen again and that it was just a mistake caused by her weakness for men. Perhaps, however, she would have been much better suited to the role of a prostitute than to the role of wife.

        After that, I was cheated a few times more, but I was already out of importance. I could not get hurt anymore. One time was enough to prove to me what kind of woman she is.

        I never understood what was in my head back then and why I continued to stay with a woman who had deceived all my expectations.

        I probably did not have the courage to give up the comfort of the family for fear of loneliness. I knew it was going to hurt me a lot and I would never be happy again.

        I saw Izabela again a week after I returned to Bucharest. I had thought about her the whole time, but I did not have the guts to call her.

        We decide she will call me when she got back to Bucharest. She had initially said she would be back in two days, but she probably wanted to stay there.

        I did not want to sound desperate, nor did I want to feel more than I already felt for her. I did not know her very well and the fact that she was always in different countries took me away from her even further.

        We went out for coffee as she had promised, and she told me that it was the last day she stayed in Bucharest. She was going to Switzerland for a short time.

        She never planned her stay in a country. She stayed as long as she felt she was okay. When she knew too many people and began to care about them, she would leave immediately without looking back.

        She only had one suitcase with her and never bought more than she needed. I was happy to see her again and she seemed lost in thoughts. She told me that she enjoyed meeting me and that she hoped to see me again when she returns.

        She would always come back to Romania when she felt she was getting involved with the people of the country she was in. I drove her to the airport and hugged her before she left. I was amazed but pleasantly surprised when she kissed me. That is when some creeps went through my body to soften my knees.

        I had never felt such emotions before, and it was hard for me to let go of my arms. It was a sweet and passionate kiss that would follow me day and night.

        I wandered around town for a few more hours with no specific destination and then I got home. I still felt the taste of Izabela's lips on my lips. I could still feel her breasts sticking to my chest. Her perfume was on my face, and I was not even going to remove it.

        I had met such a special and yet mysterious woman. I went into the kitchen and got a beer from the huge empty fridge. I did not eat much at home so there was only beer and a few products in the fridge that was probably long overdue.

        Not even a maid I thought of hiring. I was not a messy man, but the house still required little care and cleanliness. I went into the living room and lay down on the huge white leather couch.

        I turned on the TV and buttoned the remote in the hope that I would find something that would get my attention. At one point my phone rang. I quickly took it in my hand hoping it was her.

        "Hi, I'm sorry if I bother you. I hope I do not wake you up. I just wanted to tell you that I arrived in Switzerland and just checked into the hotel. I lay down in bed and the thought flew to you."

        "I am glad you're okay, and I am glad you thought of writing to me. I am thinking about you too. I don't know what is going on with me, but I can't get you out of my mind.'

        I had not been able to be honest with her when I was in her company, but through the messages, I had crazy courage. At least she was not in front of me to intimidate me with her beauty.  Whenever we met it was hard for me to speak openly and I was afraid to talk about my feelings.

        For me, it was love at first sight, but for her, I did not know what our date had meant. The fact that she had told me that she was thinking of me still gave me the courage to dream. To my surprise, she continued to write to me.

        "You know very well that I cannot afford to get attached to people, but I really liked your company. I had a great time with you and that is why I hastened my departure from Romania. I was supposed to stay another week, but when I realized that I miss you and wish I could see you I decided it was time to run away like I always do. Don't get me wrong, but I am still not ready for anything more.”

        "I am sorry you left because of me and I am sorry you are going through difficult times. I am in the same situation, too, and I am afraid of a relationship, but I can still say that you are the most wonderful woman I have ever met. You have something special that attracts me in a crazy way and I fail to get you out of my mind. I am glad to hear you had a great time with me and yet I am sorry we did not get to know each other better.”

        "I have always kept people away from me precisely so that I would no longer suffer and make sacrifices for them. I hardly escaped a life that I did not like and felt trapped in... Now I feel free and the fact that I do not get emotionally involved gives me the strength to move on every day. I am not ready to give up my life with myself, I still have a lot to learn about what I enjoy doing and what I do not enjoy. Take care of yourself, we will talk."

        "I am not either yet able to accept anyone in my life, especially a woman. I was disappointed with women and especially the woman who was once my wife and had to be with me for better or worse. She preferred to throw herself into the arms of any man who came out of her way. I have not healed yet, but the fact that I met you gave me hope that there are still women worth the effort. Sleep easy."

        Now I wanted, even more, to be able to have her in my arms, to kiss her and to feel her perfume again. I do not know if she had given me a small chance to hope to see each other again or I was just an i***t to dream about it.

        I turned off the TV and went to the bedroom to sleep. I knew I was not going to make it, but I was still trying every night to be fooled by the thought that maybe someday I would be able to get a deep, peaceful sleep.

        Even when I got drunk like a pig, I could not get much sleep- on the contrary, alcohol recalled memories that I thought I had erased from my brain.

        I had to recover, and it had to happen as soon as possible, or I risked going into a depression with no escape. I risked losing the last shred of manhood that remained in me.