In Zasulauks neighborhood
In Lady Baiba’s living room a flimsy photo hangs on the wall of a large companion on Candera street. She never misses the chance to narrate an anecdote, evoked by this flimsy photo. It is Lady Baiba’s fixed rite to encourage you to have a seat in her living room and have tea with her. She feels an inner temptation to select a figure in the photo. It might be her refuge. And Lady Baiba saw this as good, for her things are either good or going to become good.
This was my brother, Arturs. She poked with her thin fingers at a slim man in the middle of the photo. He was the heart of every party; I still see him dancing. We followed each other everywhere. He was a good man. She tore away her tears rolling down on her face.
Oh, and this is my neighbor, Martins. She picked a young blonde man right next to her brother. Martins is a good friend of mine. I’m used to his voice, when he hoots ’common Baiba’. We go to the central market by my car and we will buy groceries’. She waved with her arms, imitating Martin’s motion. When my brother got sick and he wanted to go to a nursing home, he would protest by saying, ’No way, I will come help. You are not going anywhere.’ Martins came every day, every single day, you know, ’til…. Such a good man, she stressed. She mumbled ’such a good man’ again, making her point clear.
Lady Baiba sighed and then continued sharing her stories. This is Maxim and his woman, Sofia. Maxim is Russian. She pursed her lips and said, ’But a good man;’ nevertheless, she toned her sentence as if it was a really big compliment. Maxim is a mechanic and repairs everything for me in this house. ’No problem, Baiba.’ He is living in one of those small apartments, she blinked towards a grey Soviet styled block on Zalves street. Such a good Russian man, honestly.
She took a deep breath, suggesting now she closed her wise sayings and started looking after her dog with her deep set eyes. She just left a stocky man on the very edge of the photo, leaning to the wrong direction. Who is that man, ma’am? Such a…? Ideals are left at the bottom line?!