Everything in the Hands of God
ALEKSANDRA DANILOVIC
Marko
The burning passion for football is this flame that rose deep within. It’s where the fire started, well, when he wasn’t around his dad. The aggravated vocals and triumphs echoed through every wall of their home, “You better fucking play well this weekend if you want to be scouted.” Trapping Marko in a gilded cage, unable to speak his tongue stuck in the back of his throat. It was the anthem of the house. The fire started to be extinguished.
It was game day; he put on his jersey number 6 and his grazed white mercurials. Before he got on he put three fingers together, closed his eyes, and crossed himself, he kissed the pitch. He whispered, “Sve u rukama Bogu- everything in the hands of god”. The pressure was on, the crowd screaming at each other in the grandstand, coaches pointing and waving directions. But everything in Marko’s vision blurred out except for the ball and the goal, in the moment when the whistle blew he caught consciousness, he couldn’t concentrate, the outside noise became too loud and tainted his mind with thoughts of poison, his body stiff and numb, he didn’t know what he was doing. When the whistle blew at halftime, he was back on the bench. His dad held a hasty gaze from across the field, piercing into his eyes. He sharply hung his head low, looking at the scuff marks on his boots. The ref called full-time, now this was the moment the scout for the Australian Socceroos signed the right wing on his team. The drive home was silent, but the silence spoke more than the words his father used to taunt him. Marko’s mum came to the doorstep and hugged him so tightly, the warmth of his mother’s love was all he needed, his father barged between them and through the door frame colliding into both of them. Marko treaded upstairs dragging his football bag on his shoulder and threw around all his clothes, causing havoc, pulling undies out, pulling all sorts of items, and placing them in the suitcase that had been sitting on the top of his chipped wooden wardrobe. With no commotion, he nonchalantly says “I’m fucking done.” which was followed by a smartarse remark “Good luck son”. The flame disappeared.
He drove to his grandparents' place, trying to act like a total stoic. Baba was already cooking from the morning, plating hot potatoes and steak, medium rare, just how Marko liked it. Baba let out a gentle sigh, snatching his hands under the table, her shaky hands corded with blue veins wrapped around his, lovingly kissing his scarred knuckles she said to him “Sve u rukama Bogu- everything in the hands of god”.
Leks
You know the days in summer when it feels like complete euphoria, when the sun is burning your skin, the sand crackling beneath the soles of your feet like you're walking on crunchy leaves. It's like the feeling of electricity, the electricity you get in your veins. You try shaking it off but it’s stuck there. People say it’s love but I hadn’t experienced that genuinely with someone yet, I gained acceptance with that because that was the first step in having inner peace, the second thing I had was a deep knowing that it didn’t matter how or when I got someone I just knew I'd receive the desired love I was worthy of “You get it when you don't expect it”.
This particular summer night I jumped into my little Mitsubishi Mirage and picked up Ksenija. Ksenija is one of those people I shared a soulmate connection with, although completely platonic, I couldn't imagine my life without her presence. We drove through the bends and curves of the city landscape admiring the pedestrians on the sidewalks and creating stories behind the faces we spotted, her laughter was the soundtrack to my happiness. We made it to the spot, we sat down on the sloped embankment and in the light saw a parade of couples scattered on the grass locking their hands together and burying their heads in each other's lap. Through our laughs and jokes about PDA, we both knew how much we wanted that for us. Ksenija slyly commented “When’s it our turn man” I scanned the area again and smirked. Looking down on my hands I grabbed her round head and pushed it onto my boney shoulder “Now is the time.” We peacefully looked at the water crashing into the harsh rocks of the shore and out into the distant lights that blurred together like a clustered ball. I knew this was the place someone would ask me to be their girlfriend. Before we got too sentimental, Ksenija grabbed my keys out of my hand and strutted to the car. I didn’t catch her looking back at the couples, but my eyes were stuck on them.
As the days grew longer and the summer heat continued to prolong, I was worn out with drinking and fed up with clubbing. I was surprised I didn't get spiked at these dirty venues with the behavior from the boys. I’d dance to the music, waving my hands side to side, moving my body sexually, erasing the thought of the hangover to come in the morning, the flashing strobe lights and sweaty smell suffocating my nose. The girls there were vomiting bright yellow fluid in the corner of the DJ booth and security guards stumbled through the crowds of people that carried vast spectra of fruity vapes blocking out the notes of alcohol in the air. Men grabbed at each other’s collars pushing and grinding on each other like they were about to participate in a UFC match. Looking at my surroundings a switch flicked in my head, it hit me. I needed to go to church. My heels stuck to the club floor, the faux leather began to peel off, kind like the skin of a banana. I trodded down the stairs acting like I had elegance, I couldn’t keep the facade up “Fuck this, i’m done.” The straps of the heels indented into my feet, cutting the blood circulation, they were undoubtedly swollen and full of blisters. I watched the city wake up. People walking with overpriced coffees in their hands, while i was in shambles, I didn’t care how I looked. As I stepped foot in the sacred building, and the choir from above penetrated through my ear drums. The Sunday service began, this old lady’s shaky hand corded with blue veins grabbed mine and whispered “Sve u rukama Bogu- everything in the hands of god.” I smiled and crossed my eyebrows.
Us
Summer is prolonged through March. My dad frantically called me to finish work early. I wasn’t sure why he kept persisting with me to go to my brother's stupid football game. He played so far away, about an hour and a half to be specific. I used the classic excuse to my boss “I feel sick, can I leave.” I murmured it under my breath as I was packing silver earrings behind the dirty glass counter. She blankly stared at me, veering her head over the scattered cardboard boxes.
What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t deny or accuse me of lying, so she nodded her head. I took my lanyard and crooked badge off and waltzed out of the store, customers bustled through the busy shopping center, careless of anyone in their way. I had a big party to attend after my brother’s game, so I put on a white mini-dress, straightened my hair, put harsh black eyeliner in my waterline and lipgloss. I hear a loud voice “Leks hurry up we are going to be late.” I rolled my eyes to the back of my head with frustration I screamed “I’m fucking coming, give me a second man." Dad drifted corners and ran stop signs, acting like a Formula One driver.
I wasn’t interested in Filip's game so I sat on the metal bench in front of the canteen. To my surprise, these older boys came together lining up in a format next to each other. There was only one out of the 12 boys who stood out to me, one with religious tattoos everywhere, he turned around and smiled, the apples of his cheeks sat so high on his face, I knew that sweet smile was all the love I needed. He walked up to me while staring at the ground, and he raised his head “I’m Marko” I contained the excitement. It was like electricity hit every nerve in my body. I genuinely couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he. He followed his introduction with a smart arse comment “Is this what you wear to a football match?” With that remark, I simply agreed and shrugged my shoulders. His coach shouted at him for the warmup. Scattering through his pockets he grabbed his phone and told me to put my number in it.
Before the first dinner, we made a few circuits around the block, the talk was shy, trying to familiarise ourselves with each other but backing away. Another few circuits around the block and we knew each other more than our family members. Our fingers gently intertwined with a loose grip, his hands knew how to hold on yet simultaneously set me free. We gazed up at the harsh brightness of the city lights around us, then made our way into the restaurant. We laughed at the same jokes, his warmth melted my chocolate heart, he spun me around on the sidewalk while I tried not to bump into anyone walking past. He snapped candid photos of me. You know the kind of photos that your mum takes when you go on family dinners and you’re caught off guard.
Love was reflected all around us, love was within.
His black ute was stationed in my driveway with the headlights illuminating the window of the living room. We began the drive, through the wide roads and intersections of the city, speeding in the tunnels, my head laid back in the seat, and a deep breath from my abdomen released out of my mouth. When I opened my eyes, I realised where we were. It was my favourite spot. Where the sound of children chanting their laughs was echoed through the starry night sky, where elderly couples sat together on the chipped wooden benches and veer at fishermen on the side of the bay, the place where the outskirts of the grassy embankments cradle the water harmoniously with the entire landscape. Mankind seemed just as abundant as nature. My head tilted slightly to my left, I gazed into his eyes and my smile was secured on my face naturally.
He said, “My Baba always told me this one phrase growing up and I finally understand it.” “Say it Marko”
“Sve u rukama Bogu.”
I turned my head to the water, I couldn’t believe what he just said. Seemed like our love came in just as unexpected as the waves we watched collide into each other, meeting on the shore, and for that I am grateful. If you can learn to make love neither aim nor master that is when it becomes eternal.
