Belgrade Noir

Then one day everything changed. It was one of those hot days where the air moves slowly, the cornfields breathe heavily, and the sun’s your enemy. I’d stayed in all day. Mom had gone to the shop and I was waiting for her to come back with sweet treats. I was sitting in the kitchen listening to the radio, without a care in the world. As soon as Mom came back I knew something had happened. Her hands were shaking as she spooned coffee into the džezva and she had a big smile across her sweaty face. I’ve got a great idea, she said, putting a cup on the plate.

Mom had heard the shopkeeper gossiping with Jovanka next door, telling her about going to her cousin’s wedding in the city that weekend. I kept munching on my šampite and said nothing even though I was getting slightly worried. Guess how this cousin found her husband, Mom said to me, her face glowing and red. I couldn’t guess, I had no idea how to find a husband. I knew something was up. The woman replied to a personal ad in the paper

, Mom said, nearly shouting. The man, her future husband, put an ad in the paper looking for a wife, and she read it and felt in her heart that this was the one. And now they’re getting married! Just think about it. Pastry crumbs were flying from her lips as she excitedly told me the story. We’ll do the same, she said.

My dear boy, we’ll run an ad. I’ll write it so you don’t have to worry about mistakes. Think! All the women of Serbia are going to read it. Your wife won’t be someone from our tiny little circles who could end up being a distant relative, yuck. The whole of Serbia will see our ad and there’ll be someone who realizes right away that this is her man, the only one for her. This is how we handle it. This is how people do things now.

She wrote the ad and I didn’t object. I couldn’t, even though I had a bad feeling from the start. I should’ve paid heed to that feeling. Maybe she would’ve listened to me if I’d protested enough. I could’ve stopped eating. That would’ve shown her how serious I was. But I couldn’t. And I thought to myself, Mom is wiser and more experienced and knows what’s best for me. Plus, I don’t like to starve myself.

The ad ran in the July 15 issue of Večernje Novosti

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Women of Serbia! I am looking for a wife for my 42-year-old son. Only hard-working, honest women with serious intentions. “Country Mouse.” (D094109)

And that’s how we found a wife. She was from Belgrade, short and compact, like her name, Una. She called us two weeks after we’d posted the ad. I knew Mom was already worried after no one called even though she tried to hide it and pretended to be cheery and hopeful. We’ll find you a fine wife, my dear boy, she said every night as she tucked me in. There’ll be a call tomorrow, I just know it. A week later I felt secretly relieved. That’s when I was sure I wouldn’t find a wife, neither a fine nor a bad one, and was happy. I didn’t want one. I wanted to be left alone with Mom. And then one night Una called. It was after my bedtime. Mom was watching a crime show she wouldn’t let me watch. I heard the phone ring and Mom getting up from her chair.