Branka was fifty-eight, Milan forty-three, and they both knew those numbers before their first kiss. They had met through work they shared and, for several months, mostly saw each other alone. When he invited her on an outing with his friends, she accepted without visible hesitation. Afterwards she spent almost an hour looking at her wardrobe, trying to choose something that would neither hide nor emphasize a difference nobody had yet mentioned.
She decided to bring food. She made two salads, baked a pie, and packed spare jackets because the forecast predicted a change in the weather. In the morning Milan asked why they were taking enough things to lead an entire school class on an excursion. Branka laughed and said somebody had to think ahead. During the drive she reminded him to take water when he got out of the car, although he had just put a bottle in his backpack himself.
His friends greeted them in a meadow beside the river. They were all adults with their own bags, food, and opinions about the weather. Nevertheless, Branka began distributing plates, asking whether people had eaten, and clearing empty cups. While the others talked, she stood beside the open car trunk. Milan approached and took the bag from her hand. He did not say how wonderful it was that she looked after them. He asked when she would sit beside him.
"As soon as I finish this," she answered. He led her a few steps away, to a spot where they could still see the group. He said it embarrassed him when she spoke in front of his friends as though he did not know how to bring water. Branka felt ashamed and immediately thought her age had finally become a problem. She asked whether he wanted a younger girlfriend. Milan sighed. "I want you. But I don't want you to raise me."
That hurt because she recognized her own attempt to become indispensable where she feared she would not be desirable. She told him she did not know what place she had among his friends. He answered that he had saved her a place on the blanket, not a task beside the trunk. They returned together. When somebody asked where the clean forks were, Branka pointed at the bag and remained seated. The conversation had just reached a film that only she had seen.
Later it grew cold. Milan put on the jacket he had brought himself and spread his blanket over their legs. Branka did not straighten his collar. She described going to concerts alone in earlier years, before she began planning every outing around other people's needs. He asked whom she would like to hear now. She named a band, and he admitted he knew none of their songs. Branka took out her phone to play her favorite. This time she had something for him that was neither lunch nor advice.