Читать книгу Tales of Ghosts. Playing Another Reality. Edgar Allan Poe award - Alexandra Kryuchkova - Страница 20

London had been a childhood dream of mine ever since we were told about its sights in English classes at school. I studied the same sights at the preparatory courses of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and then at the University. It seemed that even before visiting London, I already knew it better than any other city in the world. I had little chance of getting the UK visa, so I put off a trip to London to the last page of perhaps my last passport. Nobody knows what turn of fate has already got the very brick that will suddenly fall on your head, or what else would happen to prevent your vacation abroad.

Everywhere I traveled alone. Vitaly threw up his hands, as he always had some reasons not to join me. However, on Christmas Eve, he vowed that we would definitely go somewhere together within the coming year.

I worked as the head of the purchasing department, free of job for traveling three times a year: for May holidays, August and Christmas time; and there were just three pages left for visas in my passport.

Vitaly traditionally spent May and Christmas holidays with his wife (whom, like many husbands, he vowed to leave, but would have never done so, because he felt “pity for her”, since “she won’t survive, and you are strong!”), therefore, for our joint trip only August remained.

Knowing my cherished childhood dream, Vitaly told me to go first to London, for May holidays, and suggested having a rest with him in August somewhere on paradise islands. Well, it made sense, didn’t it?

I really enjoyed London! I walked it up and down and returned home with a feeling of complete satisfaction. By the way, the British had released me a multi-entry visa for six months, but I didn’t see much point in going back with limited funds, it was much more pleasant to visit something yet unexplored!

There were clearly more wonders on Earth than the seven encyclopedic ones, and I was already dreaming of where I would go for Christmas after August in Paradise with Vitaly, as the boss urgently demanded to get me a German visa for a business trip to Munich. So, my travel bag was getting less for one wonder of the world! And more, I had already traveled all over Germany, including Munich, in vacation and not during a business trip. Anyhow, my negativity reached the ears of the Universe: as soon as the Germans granted me a single-entry visa for five days in July, the business trip was immediately canceled by the very same boss! However, since the stamp in the passport couldn’t be canceled, the penultimate page turned out to be irretrievably damaged and wasted for nothing! My inner indignation from my own helplessness went off scale, but in the end, it never came out, because… every day brought me closer to the cherished August islands with Vitaly!

I scoured the Internet, called all the travel agencies that dealt with islands to choose the best Paradise for us, and mentally I was already rather there than in my homeland. Having prepared a bunch of beautiful dresses and bought a couple of charming swimsuits, I signed an application for my vacation, which became more and more problematic every year, because the boss was mutating into a slave owner…

And so, a couple of days before departure, Vitaly called for me, beaming with anticipation of Paradise, to discuss our plans in a restaurant. He listened carefully to all my dreams and wishes for the main course, and ‘for dessert’ he suddenly said,

“Lara, I’m leaving… for London.”

“What do you mean… London?!” I asked, still understanding nothing. “And when are you leaving?!”

“It’s a business trip to London for the whole of August.”

“Yesterday you said you had agreed your vacation! in August! with me! on the islands!”

“Yes, but today… everything has changed… Maybe in September…”

“My boss won’t let me go in September!” I was about to die. “As well as in October and in November!!!”

“Go alone to Paradise in August.”

“What’s to do alone in Paradise?! It’s only for couples!”

“Then go somewhere else,” Vitaly suggested calmly, which made me furious.

“Somewhere else, where is that? I have no time to apply for a visa!”

“Go to visa-free Turkey.”

Oh, I wished he hadn’t even mentioned Turkey to me! I turned white with anger!

“Turkey? Where you have been relaxing with your wife for so many years? So that, lying alone on the beach, I couldn’t help imagining how sweet it was for you both there?!”

“Lara, darling! I could tell you to come and stay with me in London, but I will work from morning to night, and you’ll get bored. You’ve just returned from London! Besides, I will live not in London, but in a town about forty minutes away from London by train. In a single room at a local hotel with English breakfasts only. I figured out how much your visit will cost. It’s very expensive for you to travel to London every day instead of waiting for me in a bare field, to have lunch and dinner, plus the extra charge for a double room. You know how small are rooms in Britain, and the flight is not a penny! I can neither pay for you, nor to tell you to pay yourself, because it’s a throwing money away! By the way, there’s an abnormal heat in London now. People are bathing in fountains! And you said you couldn’t stand the heat. To come to London for a week just to stay with me for a weekend, bathing in fountains?! Remember, it’s bad luck to come back!”

Despair overwhelmed me, and tears were ready to come out from my eyes. I jumped up from the table, threw my napkin into the bowl of my favorite fruit salad.

“I hate London! I hate it! HATE!!!” I shouted.

Deathly silence reigned around. Everyone froze, including the waiter with a cup of espresso, he was about to put on our table.

I grabbed my bag and, noticing nobody on the way, headed for the exit.

***

I traded a fortnight vacation in Paradise for a weekend with Vitaly in London, landing at Heathrow airport on Friday night.

As soon as I switched on the phone, the bell rang.

“Lara…” Vitaly said as doomed, “I’ve been called away to their office on the weekend… But… I’ll come in London to see you tomorrow night, okay?”

I traded a fortnight vacation in Paradise for one night with him in London.

***

On Saturday, around lunchtime, I sadly looked at myself, collapsed into the fountain of Trafalgar Square at +40C.

People didn’t even realize that I felt sick from the heat… and that I was no longer there… I thought, “Truly, it’s bad luck to come back!”

What did I trade my life for?

Can we say that it was Vitaly who killed me?

***

Vitaly died in a car crash at midnight between that damn Saturday and Sunday, almost reaching London. He fell asleep at the wheel…

Did he trade his life for a night with me?

No, it was me who killed him…

***

On Sunday we sat for a long time on the banks of the Thames, making a plan to which countries we would fly without passports before disappearing forever…

July 2003