I was making up a dialog by a dialog, but didn't dare to speak. She was mesmerized by what was happening in the garden, and I was mesmerized by her.  

Her suit reminded me of school – a skirt, a jacket, a blouse, nylon tights and old loafers.

She was vacationing with friends at the lake and her nose got burnt. She told the story to an acquaintance who came to say hello. She asked me if I minded if she sat down - my bench was in the shade.

Only us and the birds remained. They were twittering, we were silent, trying to memorize everything around us.

Still not daring speak, I was wondering who she was when she was young.  I wanted to think that she had lived here all her life and could tell me in the smallest detail about the city.

She was looking at the time. Maybe she was waiting for someone. Or maybe it was time to go back, because somebody was waiting for her.

I wonder what her name was.

The scent of the flowers wafted in the silence. We were taking deep breaths, in and out.

She stood up, smoothed her skirt, smiled at me, and walked toward the exit. I counted to ten, got up and followed her. We met again at the front door of Schlossstrasse 89. I noticed the confusion in her eyes.

-Entschuldigung, darf ich? – I smiled awkwardly and slid the key into the keyhole.

-Bitte Schätzchen, – She answered with relief.

I let her go forward. She went to the elevator. I went up the stairs.

The doorbell rang, and before I could close the door, I just shouted “geöffnet”.

- Schätzchen, bist du schon Zuhause?

- Just came in.

-Would you like a cup of tea, dear? I'll tell you about my walk today. By the way, I saw a girl in the garden of the castle, she reminded me of you, her smile. 

-Yes, Grandma, I've already put the kettle on.

Her name is Anna and she's had Alzheimer's for 7 years. We always go for walks together, but she hardly ever notices.

In those moments when she turns to me without knowing who I am, I am afraid. Afraid the day will come when she won't remember me, won't remember how much I love her. But I keep silent. I don't tell her. I don't try to remind her. I'm afraid that day has already come.

Published 14th April, 2024.

‍

Rita Chernysheva (she/her) is an aspiring Russian writer, based in Nuremberg, Germany since April 2022. She is a linguist and translator by first education, a graduate of several 'Write Like a Girrrl' Russia courses, and is now a student of German Philology and Book Studies at FAU, Erlangen. She writes in the auto-fiction and young adult genres. The debut short story "Villa Villekulla" was published in the project "Chto ya znayu o pape" by writer Marina Kochan.

‍