On sunday the 14th dad was in Zajač, on a slava. The grandfather, as I hear, barely flicks his lighter.
Mom and I are painting things - the cask for the chandelier, the coffee table. It doesn't take paint lightly, as it's already lacquered. Barely laid one layer when she arrived. Gave me her new address and showed me on the map where it is. Says mom won't let her go to Sombor. At least we spent a few hours in a warm place. Then escort her to the bus station, she gets a ticket for 20:00, more than a hour of wait. We sit somewhere, eat popcorn, talk. The "Isus Hrist superstar" is taken off, some subnor* somewhere was bitching about it, just based on the title, they don't know what it's about, better do something on partisans. Who don't deserve such treatment, but explain it to the fools. Had I been of that kind, I'd see to stay alive and fuck the mother to such heirs who refuse to think up new stuff but keep repeating mine. And then talked some about school and why Tejka stopped visiting.
On monday at school they publish the house rules, forbidding everything, specially bringing tobacco, alcohol and explosives (!). The last item has known origins, NMN wanted to make a little exhibition or just to equip his cabinet, so he put out a word that he's collecting things of the kind, and Jolpaz brought a hand grenade from his attic, either empty or without the initiator, and it would all have passed unnoticed, had not his father asked at a PTO "is it normal that students bring bombs to school" (note the plural and the plural, and in serbian there's a difference between finite and infinite verbs; with infinite it's not an one-time event, it sounds like a regular occurrence). Before you get a chance to explain... it ends among house rules. Umpteen other things are forbidden, hairspray jewelry makeup. A student will be dežurni at the entrance. Dictatorship light.
Grandfather died this morning. Pancreas cancer, brandy therapy, old wound when horse hit him and broke a few ribs... everything. Dad and I stayed in Zajač two days for the funeral. Three hundred customs, none make sense, but they stick to each. Open coffin. I wrote that "the body looked awful", but then it was the first time I saw one dead. And the coins on eyelids I thought were some local custom, but turned out to be a worldwide trick to keep them closed while the body cools. I was among the four (or six) coffin bearers, from the house to the hearse. There's good two kilometers to the cemetery, walked it slowly, the whole column. The first two hundred meters on the main road, causing quite a clog, but everyone respects a funeral. Not a honk.
(some fourty years later, 13-X-2018., we tried to find the grave, mostly to check what did uncle Staja do with the 40000RSD he got from me while dad was dying, but didn't find it - the cemetery was thrice the size and the trees grew. Found others, though)
Friday 19th. At school so-so, nothing. Last class the artist mocked Oli Boj endlessly. Later, talking with her, I understand that not only she missed each joke, she's completely unaware that there were any. So shallow. Afterwards, she was waiting for me so we dropped by DC-99 to see about Sombor tomorrow. She didn't want to come to my place, wouldn't know how to handle a family in mourning, but we just made her have dinner with us. She was kind of angry with me for that and pinched me a few times, and then she had to leave. Dad told her to stay, he'll drive her. She stayed until half ten, then we drove her to kinta, where she went to the disco to talk some about that. At home I had her letter, about their first corpse.
On saturday we went to Sombor, saw a lot of films, heard interesting stuff. Mika Putnik didn't forget his promise, just get into the academy, and work work work learn learn learn and we'll back you up. Then it will work by itself.
On sunday dad and I were painting the big, four wing garage door, and my cask chandelier. Exactly at 16:00 I drew myself at the station. Waited a bunch. She appeared in something red, looking lovely, just when I tried to imagine how would she look in red. Boza and baklava at Prleski, then to the river, caught in a rain. Luckily, she's got an umbrella. Stood under sdk for half an hour until it stopped. She checked up her anatomy on me, counted the muscles in my shoulder. Saw her to her bus, then made mine at the worst outpour.
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*SUBNOR is the union of people's liberation war fighters, i.e. veterans