Nina (Part 1)
1.
And so it was that 300 Spartans met their fate fending off the combined forces of the Persian Empire. I sat through this fine feature film forcing myself to hold in the five pints of Fireman's Four until said battle's end. After a much needed restroom retreat, I reconvened with old friend and new outside of the Alamo Draft House Cinema and began the inner-debate over accompanying these characters to a Bosnian birth celebration or sticking to my original plan of seeing a friend and his father perform their fairly unique brand of rockabilly country folk at the Cactus Caf.
For some unclear (or long forgotten) reason, I followed south to what amounted to little more than a backyard barbeque with a small variety of cheap beer. We were welcomed whole-heartedly by Bosnian twin brothers who apparently just call every white guy "Mike." The newly born Child in question, Enzo (EZ as one of our earlier companions had already dubbed the kid) belonged to one of the twins and his young, blonde, assumedly quite American wife, Erica. Colette, Erica's sister, had apparently joined our group, along with young pseudo-hippy boyfriend in tow, at some point after the film had begun, and was, I suppose, the immediate connection to this interesting crowd in which we were now immersed.
I had, unfortunately, indulged in no less than two partial meals along with the excessive beer through the course of the movie and was, therefore, unable to appreciate the wide array of snack foods, both standard and Bosnian. I did not, however, allow any bloated belly of quesadilla and fried chicken tenders prevent me from further drinking. After all, following the Fireman's Four, (which is a Texcentric brew similar to a sweet IPA with a slightly higher alcohol content produced by Real Ale in Rio Blanco TX) the Bud Light was going down like cold water on a hot afternoon. And, by the time I had made it through a couple, I was finally beginning to overcome the previous night's hangover and feeling a bit more sociable.
2.
Colette, whom I had initially found to be quite adorable, was moving quickly beyond "free-spirited" and energetic to annoyingly drunk and flirtatious. The Bosnian crowd, consisting of the twins, a rather large and solemn guy manning the grill, his wife, and two other guys, one who looked like a sad foreign stereotype trying too hard to fit in, and his friend who reminded me almost immediately of every Texas Tech frat-boy potential date-rapist I had ever seen, were unimpressed and visibly irritated with her behavior. The US cracker crowd (myself, Cliff-an old high school friend, a young lady accompanying him, their workmate and her husband, Colette and her boyfriend, and Erica, the lady of the house) is apparently accustomed to the juvenile behavior of those who are simply desperate for attention.
Throughout the early evening, I had comfortably conversed with the folk I had come with and the unmarried Bosnian brother who was a riot at the time. I had not really paid much attention to Erica or Nina (the big Bosnian's wife) because they were spending most of their time inside with Enzo. Both women are exceptionally attractive, but, again, married and I'm trying to break that habit.
They eventually came out to join us; I assume after Enzo was put to bed. I had been talking to Tamara, my friend's companion, for a while, and Nina sat near us and joined the conversation. I liked her almost immediately, as she simply sat back and talked shit about everyone else. Not rudely, at all, she was simply filling me in on who was who and what I should look out for and/or be amused by. I pointed out to my friend her slight, but noticeable resemblance to a young Argentinean gypsy girl we had met while traveling through Costa Rica years ago. I had often referred to her as the most attractive girl I had ever seen, and proceeded to explain that I had since found out that Argentina had been heavily populated by Italians and eastern Europeans, as opposed to the predominant Spanish and Portuguese descent through the majority of central and south America. This heritage thereby combining my youthful west-Texas attraction to "latinas" with an ever-present draw to dark haired, blue eyed gypsy girls (though until recently I had no clue as to the ancestry of the Roma people - the term "gypsy" is apparently very insulting).
I went into the house to use the restroom as I was, as of yet, unsure if the backyard was, in fact, user-friendly, and I offered to top off her drink while inside. When I came back out, there was an uncomfortable silence as each newly formed little clique spoke softly amongst themselves. The Bosnian brother-in-law (yeah, I suck at names if it's not a beautiful woman or someone really entertaining) had a deep one inch long gash in his cheek and a good amount of blood running down his face. I asked what had happened, and Nina and Tamara told me frantically not to say anything. Apparently Colette had gone around playfully slapping everyone, again seeking attention. When she slapped her sister's brother-in-law (from now on Bosnian twin #2) When she slapped twin #2, he slapped her back. She slapped him harder, and he then slapped the shit out of her so she kicked him in the face barefoot and her toenail cut his cheek open and things went quiet.
3.
Nina and I kept talking (about what, I have no idea), and at some point, she simply asked me if I was involved. For some inexplicable reason, I confided in her that I had not been dating since October because of a friend's tragedy and the subsequent effect it had on me when she cut me out of her life. Nina was floored by my compassion for and heartache over this friend, and made it a point to tell me she thought I was "a catch." I was flattered and a little embarrassed, and I had not noticed our conversation was being watched.
After Colette's little bullshit kickboxing display, the Bosnian men had drifted to one side of the porch and were watching us closely. Nina mentioned she had been really scared of the guy's potential reaction when Colette had kicked him, and that if her husband thought I was hitting on her, he might kill me. She said something about Bosnian men being very proud and protective. I neglected to tell her I was familiar with the same insecure/possessive behavior from trailer-trash cousins back in west-Texas. I really didn't think too much about it, though, and told her to simply tell him what we had been talking about, because at the time, I really had not taken that much of an interest in her or at least I had not realized that I was starting to.
4.
She was pretty concerned over Colette, and we were both quite critical of her behavior to the point where we were making bets on when she would fall flat on her face.
Nina won.
I was asshole enough to watch her fall, but I immediately jumped up to help her back to her feet. She made some drunken attempt to "thank" me, but I dismissed her with disinterest bordering on disgust by that point.
After I sat back down and we resumed our conversation, the frat-boyesque guest called for people to dance along to whatever downloaded eastern European music they were blaring into the night. Feeling a bit ostracized and obligated, I joined in the small circle of men dancing hand in hand around the table on the back porch. I circled once or twice and sat back down to continue wherever we had left off.
Tamara had already mentioned to me that creepy guy #1 (the Bosnian frat-boy) had been blatantly staring her down for much of the evening. Now, Nina pointed out that his friend (creep #2) would not take his eyes off of her breasts. These two were the main instigators in the night's drunken dancing, and when the urge struck them again, I declined. It was soon after this that the man of the house (twin #1) called me out and began questioning me as to why I was even there.
"Who's Enzo?" - "The baby."
"Whose baby?" - "Yours."
"Who's the mother?" - I was about to say "the blonde" when Nina whispered to me, "Erica."
So, I shut him up, but it was cleat that the now completely segregated group was looking for any excuse to pick a fight over my "dishonoring" one of their friends by simply speaking to his wife ...a conversation that consisted in large part of me talking about another girl that I love with all my heart.
5.
So we (the cracker crowd minus a now passed out Colette and her faux-hemian boyfriend) adjourned ourselves to the trampoline far in the backyard. Much to my amusement, there is a shed next to said trampoline, behind which, everyone (well, the guys, anyway) had been pissing while I had continued to go through the quiet routine of not waking the baby as I went inside to use the restroom.
While we were sitting out there drinking, Tamara tells me the aforementioned creepy guy #1 had been trying to rub on her ass, so I slide between the two of them to keep him away. The rest of the Bosnians (including Nina) decided to join us, and the night finally began to return to its previous enjoyability.
We're all talking and passing a smoke that twin #2 keeps referring to as a "menthol" when I get a text message from a friend who had declined my invitation to join us for 300. He asks how the movie was, and, for the sake of drunken amusement, I requested that someone speak to him in BCS (Bosnian-Croatian-Serbian or Serbo-Croatian) when I call him. Nina volunteers, and I toss her the phone after dialing. She says something that, regardless of actual content or meaning, sounded like a circa 1965 James Bond villainess demoralizing an inferior officer it was really quite sexy. She throws the phone back at me, and I tell my friend that I'm hanging out with a bunch of Bosnians and I will fill him in tomorrow.
The other Bosniaks are visibly unnerved by whatever camaraderie might have formed between Nina and I, and they begin speaking to one another in their native tongue while looking directly at me an act that is as disturbing as it is insulting in any unknown language. She says something sounding fairly defensive, and the conversation/intimidation dies down.
6.
The creepy frat-boy-ass-rubbing Boz had elected to stay behind when his equally revolting friend had departed. At some point on the trampoline, I had found myself alone with the remaining women of the group: Nina, Tamara, and Rebecca (Cliff's workmate). Tamara told of creep#1's groping and why I had divided the two of them. It was either then or soon before that someone called a cab to get the perv, but when it arrived, he had rejoined us and refused to go. Nina was telling her husband to make him go, but he did nothing, and the night quickly digressed to an air of all around discomfort. The ample supply of cheap beer somehow disappeared, and Cliff, Tamara, and I, perhaps well past any point of desired presence, decided to depart.
Upon leaving, twin #2 exuberantly shook our hands, calling us both "Mike." Erica graciously hugged us and thanked us for coming, and Nina said how great it was to meet me, but, under the circumstances and the close, watchful eyes of her husband and his friends, I barely put one arm around her shoulder when she hugged me goodbye, even though, by this point, I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her to run away with me.
We leave and head to a pool hall very near by, expecting to find another home-town friend who is there almost every night. He's nowhere to be seen, but we order a round anyway. It was during this "one-for-the-road" that I began to realize Nina's interest in me had made me feel better about myself than I had in six months, if not longer. It's been about a week and a half since then, and I still can't seem to (or simply don't want to) get her out of my head. I've told a few people about all of this, and the reaction has been just about the same from everyone: "You're going to get yourself killed." I just can't help but wonder just how loveless and obligatory her marriage might be and what a life with her would be like.
Epilogue of sorts:
I guess my years of spending so much time with um professional dancers broke me of any tendencies toward jealousy. If you pay attention to body language and vocal intonation and the eyes, it's not difficult to see the difference between harmless flirtation and a genuine sexual interest, and, between Nina and I, (unless I wasn't paying attention) there was neither. We really just enjoyed talking to one another, and her husband's concerns stemmed almost entirely from his own insecurities and his pride (which was hurt mostly by his own friends), and jealousy/insecurity and unwarranted distrust is the absolute best way to send your spouse/lover into the arms of someone else. The shitty part of all of this (aside from the likelihood of never actually seeing Nina again) is that I really liked a few of the people at the shindig that night, and I probably won't be welcomed back. well, that and the slim chance that this retelling will somehow make it back to them and lead to my inevitable demise, but hey everybody's gotta die of something.
1.
And so it was that 300 Spartans met their fate fending off the combined forces of the Persian Empire. I sat through this fine feature film forcing myself to hold in the five pints of Fireman's Four until said battle's end. After a much needed restroom retreat, I reconvened with old friend and new outside of the Alamo Draft House Cinema and began the inner-debate over accompanying these characters to a Bosnian birth celebration or sticking to my original plan of seeing a friend and his father perform their fairly unique brand of rockabilly country folk at the Cactus Caf.
For some unclear (or long forgotten) reason, I followed south to what amounted to little more than a backyard barbeque with a small variety of cheap beer. We were welcomed whole-heartedly by Bosnian twin brothers who apparently just call every white guy "Mike." The newly born Child in question, Enzo (EZ as one of our earlier companions had already dubbed the kid) belonged to one of the twins and his young, blonde, assumedly quite American wife, Erica. Colette, Erica's sister, had apparently joined our group, along with young pseudo-hippy boyfriend in tow, at some point after the film had begun, and was, I suppose, the immediate connection to this interesting crowd in which we were now immersed.
I had, unfortunately, indulged in no less than two partial meals along with the excessive beer through the course of the movie and was, therefore, unable to appreciate the wide array of snack foods, both standard and Bosnian. I did not, however, allow any bloated belly of quesadilla and fried chicken tenders prevent me from further drinking. After all, following the Fireman's Four, (which is a Texcentric brew similar to a sweet IPA with a slightly higher alcohol content produced by Real Ale in Rio Blanco TX) the Bud Light was going down like cold water on a hot afternoon. And, by the time I had made it through a couple, I was finally beginning to overcome the previous night's hangover and feeling a bit more sociable.
2.
Colette, whom I had initially found to be quite adorable, was moving quickly beyond "free-spirited" and energetic to annoyingly drunk and flirtatious. The Bosnian crowd, consisting of the twins, a rather large and solemn guy manning the grill, his wife, and two other guys, one who looked like a sad foreign stereotype trying too hard to fit in, and his friend who reminded me almost immediately of every Texas Tech frat-boy potential date-rapist I had ever seen, were unimpressed and visibly irritated with her behavior. The US cracker crowd (myself, Cliff-an old high school friend, a young lady accompanying him, their workmate and her husband, Colette and her boyfriend, and Erica, the lady of the house) is apparently accustomed to the juvenile behavior of those who are simply desperate for attention.
Throughout the early evening, I had comfortably conversed with the folk I had come with and the unmarried Bosnian brother who was a riot at the time. I had not really paid much attention to Erica or Nina (the big Bosnian's wife) because they were spending most of their time inside with Enzo. Both women are exceptionally attractive, but, again, married and I'm trying to break that habit.
They eventually came out to join us; I assume after Enzo was put to bed. I had been talking to Tamara, my friend's companion, for a while, and Nina sat near us and joined the conversation. I liked her almost immediately, as she simply sat back and talked shit about everyone else. Not rudely, at all, she was simply filling me in on who was who and what I should look out for and/or be amused by. I pointed out to my friend her slight, but noticeable resemblance to a young Argentinean gypsy girl we had met while traveling through Costa Rica years ago. I had often referred to her as the most attractive girl I had ever seen, and proceeded to explain that I had since found out that Argentina had been heavily populated by Italians and eastern Europeans, as opposed to the predominant Spanish and Portuguese descent through the majority of central and south America. This heritage thereby combining my youthful west-Texas attraction to "latinas" with an ever-present draw to dark haired, blue eyed gypsy girls (though until recently I had no clue as to the ancestry of the Roma people - the term "gypsy" is apparently very insulting).
I went into the house to use the restroom as I was, as of yet, unsure if the backyard was, in fact, user-friendly, and I offered to top off her drink while inside. When I came back out, there was an uncomfortable silence as each newly formed little clique spoke softly amongst themselves. The Bosnian brother-in-law (yeah, I suck at names if it's not a beautiful woman or someone really entertaining) had a deep one inch long gash in his cheek and a good amount of blood running down his face. I asked what had happened, and Nina and Tamara told me frantically not to say anything. Apparently Colette had gone around playfully slapping everyone, again seeking attention. When she slapped her sister's brother-in-law (from now on Bosnian twin #2) When she slapped twin #2, he slapped her back. She slapped him harder, and he then slapped the shit out of her so she kicked him in the face barefoot and her toenail cut his cheek open and things went quiet.
3.
Nina and I kept talking (about what, I have no idea), and at some point, she simply asked me if I was involved. For some inexplicable reason, I confided in her that I had not been dating since October because of a friend's tragedy and the subsequent effect it had on me when she cut me out of her life. Nina was floored by my compassion for and heartache over this friend, and made it a point to tell me she thought I was "a catch." I was flattered and a little embarrassed, and I had not noticed our conversation was being watched.
After Colette's little bullshit kickboxing display, the Bosnian men had drifted to one side of the porch and were watching us closely. Nina mentioned she had been really scared of the guy's potential reaction when Colette had kicked him, and that if her husband thought I was hitting on her, he might kill me. She said something about Bosnian men being very proud and protective. I neglected to tell her I was familiar with the same insecure/possessive behavior from trailer-trash cousins back in west-Texas. I really didn't think too much about it, though, and told her to simply tell him what we had been talking about, because at the time, I really had not taken that much of an interest in her or at least I had not realized that I was starting to.
4.
She was pretty concerned over Colette, and we were both quite critical of her behavior to the point where we were making bets on when she would fall flat on her face.
Nina won.
I was asshole enough to watch her fall, but I immediately jumped up to help her back to her feet. She made some drunken attempt to "thank" me, but I dismissed her with disinterest bordering on disgust by that point.
After I sat back down and we resumed our conversation, the frat-boyesque guest called for people to dance along to whatever downloaded eastern European music they were blaring into the night. Feeling a bit ostracized and obligated, I joined in the small circle of men dancing hand in hand around the table on the back porch. I circled once or twice and sat back down to continue wherever we had left off.
Tamara had already mentioned to me that creepy guy #1 (the Bosnian frat-boy) had been blatantly staring her down for much of the evening. Now, Nina pointed out that his friend (creep #2) would not take his eyes off of her breasts. These two were the main instigators in the night's drunken dancing, and when the urge struck them again, I declined. It was soon after this that the man of the house (twin #1) called me out and began questioning me as to why I was even there.
"Who's Enzo?" - "The baby."
"Whose baby?" - "Yours."
"Who's the mother?" - I was about to say "the blonde" when Nina whispered to me, "Erica."
So, I shut him up, but it was cleat that the now completely segregated group was looking for any excuse to pick a fight over my "dishonoring" one of their friends by simply speaking to his wife ...a conversation that consisted in large part of me talking about another girl that I love with all my heart.
5.
So we (the cracker crowd minus a now passed out Colette and her faux-hemian boyfriend) adjourned ourselves to the trampoline far in the backyard. Much to my amusement, there is a shed next to said trampoline, behind which, everyone (well, the guys, anyway) had been pissing while I had continued to go through the quiet routine of not waking the baby as I went inside to use the restroom.
While we were sitting out there drinking, Tamara tells me the aforementioned creepy guy #1 had been trying to rub on her ass, so I slide between the two of them to keep him away. The rest of the Bosnians (including Nina) decided to join us, and the night finally began to return to its previous enjoyability.
We're all talking and passing a smoke that twin #2 keeps referring to as a "menthol" when I get a text message from a friend who had declined my invitation to join us for 300. He asks how the movie was, and, for the sake of drunken amusement, I requested that someone speak to him in BCS (Bosnian-Croatian-Serbian or Serbo-Croatian) when I call him. Nina volunteers, and I toss her the phone after dialing. She says something that, regardless of actual content or meaning, sounded like a circa 1965 James Bond villainess demoralizing an inferior officer it was really quite sexy. She throws the phone back at me, and I tell my friend that I'm hanging out with a bunch of Bosnians and I will fill him in tomorrow.
The other Bosniaks are visibly unnerved by whatever camaraderie might have formed between Nina and I, and they begin speaking to one another in their native tongue while looking directly at me an act that is as disturbing as it is insulting in any unknown language. She says something sounding fairly defensive, and the conversation/intimidation dies down.
6.
The creepy frat-boy-ass-rubbing Boz had elected to stay behind when his equally revolting friend had departed. At some point on the trampoline, I had found myself alone with the remaining women of the group: Nina, Tamara, and Rebecca (Cliff's workmate). Tamara told of creep#1's groping and why I had divided the two of them. It was either then or soon before that someone called a cab to get the perv, but when it arrived, he had rejoined us and refused to go. Nina was telling her husband to make him go, but he did nothing, and the night quickly digressed to an air of all around discomfort. The ample supply of cheap beer somehow disappeared, and Cliff, Tamara, and I, perhaps well past any point of desired presence, decided to depart.
Upon leaving, twin #2 exuberantly shook our hands, calling us both "Mike." Erica graciously hugged us and thanked us for coming, and Nina said how great it was to meet me, but, under the circumstances and the close, watchful eyes of her husband and his friends, I barely put one arm around her shoulder when she hugged me goodbye, even though, by this point, I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her to run away with me.
We leave and head to a pool hall very near by, expecting to find another home-town friend who is there almost every night. He's nowhere to be seen, but we order a round anyway. It was during this "one-for-the-road" that I began to realize Nina's interest in me had made me feel better about myself than I had in six months, if not longer. It's been about a week and a half since then, and I still can't seem to (or simply don't want to) get her out of my head. I've told a few people about all of this, and the reaction has been just about the same from everyone: "You're going to get yourself killed." I just can't help but wonder just how loveless and obligatory her marriage might be and what a life with her would be like.
Epilogue of sorts:
I guess my years of spending so much time with um professional dancers broke me of any tendencies toward jealousy. If you pay attention to body language and vocal intonation and the eyes, it's not difficult to see the difference between harmless flirtation and a genuine sexual interest, and, between Nina and I, (unless I wasn't paying attention) there was neither. We really just enjoyed talking to one another, and her husband's concerns stemmed almost entirely from his own insecurities and his pride (which was hurt mostly by his own friends), and jealousy/insecurity and unwarranted distrust is the absolute best way to send your spouse/lover into the arms of someone else. The shitty part of all of this (aside from the likelihood of never actually seeing Nina again) is that I really liked a few of the people at the shindig that night, and I probably won't be welcomed back. well, that and the slim chance that this retelling will somehow make it back to them and lead to my inevitable demise, but hey everybody's gotta die of something.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
annalee:
More adventures!
aki1:
interesting