I’m sitting on a rusty metal chair on the roof of a theater. The film’s about to start and everyone is lighting their cigarettes, emotionally preparing for the film. The theater, once closed, was taken hostage and squatted in by a group of film students. Now, it plays daily films for $1, one of them being my friend’s new feature film.
I’m planning on out going after the film, so I’m dressed unusually fancy for an event that’s filled with people wearing leather on leather. My cherry red nail polish is sparkling through my peep toe heels and each step is creating overly dramatic clicking sound that no one is paying attention to. In the corner, I see the director, my friend, dressed in a leather jacket and black pants. The main actress, standing beside him is also wearing a black leather jacket and black pants. I wonder if they purposely planned that fashion faux pau. The theater roof is surrounded on three sides by deteriorating apartment buildings and every so often you can hear a part of the building falling off, hitting the pavement. The screen sits in front of the murky Belgrade sky, with cigarette smoke filling the air and my nostrils.
A friend of mine spots me sitting alone and takes a seat beside me, he’s wearing khakis and a navy blue polo shirt. His name’s Milutin. He has soulful eyes and works in the IT sector. On Tuesday nights he takes German classes and on Sundays, he plays the bass in a heavy metal band.
“Check out the turnout,” he says, adjusting himself in his seat.
“Yeah man, the theater’s packed,” I say, looking around.
I wiggle into my seat, trying to find a comfortable position.
“Am I gonna make it through this film?”
“Not in these gypsy seats,” he replies, moving his hips into position.
The outdoor lights turn off and the screen goes dark. The roof filled with people immerses into a deep silence. The film is about a girl who falls in love with her female best friend. It’s black and white. I prefer color.
On screen, the main character is writing a love note to her friend, with her breath being the only thing you can hear. With each breath she takes, a male voice interjects from behind me and Milutin.
“You motherfuckers!”
My friend and I turn around to see an old man with long shaggy hair in a baby blue t-shirt on his balcony yelling at the crowd below.
“Turn that shit off you fucking fucks!” he yells as he shakes his fist to the crowd.
The film continues to play without anyone noticing his requests.
“Shame on you! Shame on you assholes!” he continues to yell. “I’m coming down there to fuck you up!”
His door slams shut.
I choke on my laughter as a tear gently rolls down my face. The main character, Sarah, finishes writing the letter.
“He’s going to come down here and ax us,” my friend says with a whispering chuckle as he nervously playing with his fingers.
I turn around and see a couple behind us.
“It’s okay, the guy behind us and his girlfriend will be the first ones to go,” I say reassuringly.
“Okay, good. As long as we’re not the first ones,” he says as he crosses his arms and stretches his legs out under the seat in front of him.
Sarah hands her friend the letter and tells her not to open it until later that night.
“Where do you want to lick me?” a female voice behind me says.
I stare at the screen while trying to tune out the film so I can hear the conversation.
“Where would you lick me?” the male voice replies charmingly.
They start to giggle. I haven’t turned around yet, but the girl has an annoyingly loud voice and every time she speaks, people in front of me squirm in their seats. I turn around casually after a couple minutes, seeing the couple making out viciously. I can’t see the girls face, but she has black hair and a strong jawline. The guy has a mushroom cut matched with a red plaid shirt. I turn back to face the screen, feeling slight jealousy.
I sit for another ten minutes to find out where they’d lick each other, grab my bag and leave the theater.
In front of the theater, my friend is waiting in her car. I walk quickly to the car and get in.
“Oooh, I’m so excited for tonight,” she says as she drives away.
“It’s time to dance,” I say, turning the volume louder.
We’re driving to our favorite club, Lasta. It’s a floating club on the Danube river and though the crowd is usually full of silicon body parts, but the music is great.
The club’s empty. Three dutch looking guys are sitting and smoking in the corner while all the servers are standing at the bar, texting. We walk in and start dancing on the empty dance floor. Seeing as I’m one of the only women in the club, one of the dutch guys approach me. He’s wearing a purple dress shirt and blue jeans – his hair is combed back.
“Hi,” he says with red drunken eyes and a wobbly smile.
“Hi,” I replied with a smile.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No”
“I can understand why.”
“What?”
“I said, I can understand why you have a boyfriend”
“I do not have a boyfriend”
His eyes start to bulge in amazement.
Oh god.
“Okay, well it was nice to meet you,” I say as I start to dance-walk away.
Minutes later, we leave the club.
As I hobble out with sore feet, I see our friend passing the club on his bicycle.
“Vuk!” we both yell out as we throw our arms in the air.
“I thought you guys were going to be here, I was going to go into the club but it’s not my crowd,” he says as he rides around in a giant circle.
Vuk’s wearing a white baseball cap, a lime green polo, and biking shoes.
“Let’s go to your house Vuk,” my friend says.
We put his bike into the car and drive to his place.
The three of us are laying on his new bed as he’s showing us his new body pillow.
“Look, you can just,” he grabs the pillow and puts it between his legs “do this. It’s like hugging someone.”
We stare at him in silence. Seconds pass as he falls asleep hugging the body pillow.
We put our shoes on and sneak out of his apartment. As we leave the building, we hear a loud fart coming from his window.
I throw my head back in laughter, my friend falls to the ground, grabbing her crotch. As I watch her trying not to pee, I grab my crotch in a panic.
My friend turns on her car to drive me home. I get into the car, unsticking my pee-stained pants from my skin. We drive the rest of the way to my house in silence. We arrive at my front door. I sit there for a second before opening the car door and stiffly getting out of the car.
I close the car door and bend down, looking through the window at her pee stained crotch.
“Well,” I pat the car door, “another good night.”
thelonelyserb 