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Sunday's Story/ Pebbles of Dërmiu...

2023-10-22 09:45:00, Kulturë Agim Xhafka

Sunday's Story/ Pebbles of Dërmiu...

Besnik and Frida were the happiest couple in town. They got married 20 years ago, and every time their lives got more exciting colors. As if God himself had blessed them and tirelessly confessed the blessed monopaths from which they walked. To begin with, the grandfather bequeathed a large plot of land in the city where they built three palaces. Then they secured a lot of wealth from the sale of the apartments. So in the suburbs they built a villa for the couple with their son and daughter to live in, and next door they built a flour factory. Big and so productive that year after year the family's bank account swelled, swelled, almost bursting.

However, Besnik and Frida, as well as son Genci and daughter Ola, lived a not perfect, but average life. "With expenses - no excesses", which is their motto every day. In the midst of this climate, which fortunately had spring always, came the heavy blow that became the prologue of the drama of the happy couple, in love as much as love itself. One morning, while Ola was driving her car to the faculty, she had just started her law studies, a large concrete mixer makes a wrong pass and runs the girl off the road.

Unfortunately for her, there was a big concrete wall on the side and the impact was heavy. But luck was again on the side of the girl, that where the collision happened a few months ago, a private hospital specialized in trauma was operating. So the miracle happened, in three minutes they moved him to the operating room. The parents arrived so quickly that the accident happened almost next to the villa, Ola had just left the house.

The doctor asked to know what blood type the parents had because the patient had a lot of bleeding.

- AB, - said Besnik.

-How? Really? Do you have it correct? - the doctor wondered.

- Yes.

-So, you adopted the chick?

- No, no, it's my daughter.

- There is no possibility that it is yours because your blood type speaks differently, - said the doctor as he entered the room.

The faithful was shaken. Like that bull in the toreador wars when they cover his eyes with the red cloth. He almost jumped out of his chair like a grasshopper.

-Who, who, who is Ola's father, my?

Frida seemed to have two pairs of eyes. A pair whose eyes popped out of wonder and terror and a gentle pair, the usual ones who spoke and looked lovingly at the man she loved as much as herself. That's what they often said to each other.

-Besnik, what are you talking about? Are you in your right mind, man?! Collect your mind!

-Did you hear the doctor! Did you hear it? You are not the father of the oyster, he told me!

Then they left each other until the operation was over. They sat at opposite corners of the pavilion, like fire with gunpowder.

Everything went well, the girl came home with some damage to her legs. Since that day, Besnik did not sleep at home, but in the factory. Frida was dealing with her daughter and she was crying. She didn't want her daughter to know what the doctor said. But he also wanted to clarify this mistake. That's what she called it. That he knew very well that he did not want to see anything but Besnik, not to approach him even for a flirtation with his eyes. One morning she texted her husband. See you at the hospital for DNA analysis, he wrote. He took the boy's and the girl's hair and Besnik was seen at the laboratory. They met there and after a few days for the results.

- You are 99.98% parents of the boy, Genci, - the first envelope wrote.

- You are not Ola's father, - wrote the second envelope.

- This has been known for two weeks now. But this is still not telling us her partner, - spoke Besniku and looked at Frida with disgust and hatred.

At that moment Frida opened the third envelope. He read it and froze. She threw her husband at his feet and ran away. Besnik lifted it from the ground, opened it and read:

- You are not Ola's mother.

He read it again, reread it. Those words came to him like waves on the shore. The same, at the same pace and with the same meaning. Oh god, oh horror, come take me, he was begging. Attacks, conjectures, intrigues, revenges, anger, infidelity were crushed. Everything. It was like that day when he was crossing the road towards Librazhd and a big rock fell in front of his car window, which grabbed the car and threw it into the river like a walnut shell. He escaped, he was exhausted and still sleeps from the anxiety of that day. He ran to catch his beloved wife, to ask her for forgiveness, to beg her to have mercy on her, to despise her, but not to abandon her. That he was a piece of ass who didn't even love himself anymore. But Frida was winded. He reached the door of the villa. He hugged her and before he said the words of apology, his face became wet. From his wife's tears. Even he was caught by the sob of truth. That's how they both cried, hugged and kissed each other. Because love was such a fire that it instantly consumed their error, just like the grill where the chops were coming that burns the unhealthy fat.

Drama had happened; the girl was changed in the maternity ward. They had given Ola instead of their daughter. This angel so beautiful, so wise, so loving. Inside, they wanted to find out who their daughter was, but they didn't want to say anything to Ola. And so with dilemmas and plans, so that the meat is cooked and the skewer does not burn, they met some strange news from the maternity ward. Five children were born that day, but apart from Ola, a girl, the other four were boys.

- So we have another son, - Besnik was happy.

Frida also smiled. Because he loved Genci very much because he was a boy full of good manners and full of love, he imagined that it would be good for two brothers to be together. They learned the names of the Chunas who thought that one of them was theirs and found themselves in the city. They would start from Dritani, the owner of a bar near the Trade Center. They would tell him openly what they were looking for as he was already over 20 years old. When they arrived at the bar, they unwittingly witnessed a fight between a young man and a drunken middle-aged man. The boy punched him, grabbed him by the jacket, threw him on the street and shouted to a bus driver who was passing by:

- Press this dung! Press! He borrowed 200 euros from me and not only is he not paying it back, but he wants me to rent it with beers every day. Press to save!

Frida and Besnik entered. We want the owner, they told the waiter. Unfortunately, the owner was that barbarian boy.

- On the day you were born, our daughter was also born. - started Frida.

- But there was a mistake. The girl we have is not ours. They changed it...

- With me, you know, - cut off Besniku's speech and became lively. - Now you, my father and you, my mother, what do you want from me?

- Let's do a DNA analysis, - said Frida.

- Let's do it, why not?

And while Frida and Besnik calmed down, the boy spoke:

-But to begin with, I want 50,000 euros. Otherwise, wear it.

That's what they wanted, and they stood up. They went out, took a deep breath as if they escaped from an underwater current that carried them for a few minutes to the depths and to the ground.

- Now let's ask what is the name of the midwife who changed our babies? - said Besnik.

- Why, what do we need?

- To make a fish fat. Boll that

He saved us from this monster, woman!

He calmly ran away to the villa. They would no longer ask for their blood. Ola, the fantastic girl, was enough for them. The one that was mine. There is no blood with them, it grew from Frida's breast and milk, from parental insomnia, from love, from education, from their passion.

- Children are like those stones on the shore in Dhërmi, - spoke Besnik while driving the car. - Which are so polished, so smooth, so soft that you like to hold them in your hand. That's what the waves have done to them that rubs and rubs them endlessly. It is like the hand of the family that caresses the son or daughter from the time it is born until it becomes a child.

Frida remembered Ion's pebbles and on one of them it seemed as if she had drawn her daughter's portrait. He said lightly:

- It was mine.

Then he looked at Besnik and added:

-Our daughter!

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