Читать книгу Tales of Ghosts. Playing Another Reality. Edgar Allan Poe award - Alexandra Kryuchkova - Страница 9

Natasha adored the theater since childhood and went to premieres almost every weekend. A tall, slender, blue-eyed blonde, with an uncommon power to attract men, she had just graduated from the best Theatre Institute and decided to devote herself to the stage. Late autumn, Natasha played her first major role. Tired but happy, she was walking to the dressing room, when suddenly someone caught up with her and took her by the hand.

“Congratulations! You were great!” Sergey, the theatre director, said enthusiastically.

“Thank you,” Natasha replied calmly. “I don’t like compliments. See you tomorrow!”

…Sergey returned home and, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he heard the usual words.

“Try walking in my shoes! I’m so tired of your nightly returns!”

“We had a premiere tonight. And you knew about it. I offered you to come, but you refused! And Natasha was amazing! A really talented actress. Not what I thought of her.”

“That bitch must have already confessed her love to you, and you hung up your ears, idiot!”

“Don’t talk like that,” he asked wearily.

“The theatre became everything to you! You sneezed on me and on our son! You live your own life in which there is no place for us! And you appear and disappear like a ghost!”

“You’re wrong,” Sergey tried to argue.

“No, I’m right! Theatre is an entertainment for idlers, a waste of time! Lazybones! You adore doing nothing, and the theatre is your shelter!”

Sergey silently turned around and walked off into the night.

…It was snowing outside. He wandered along the road, wherever his eyes looked, immersed in heavy thoughts. He loved his family. And his wife, he had loved. Sergey for the first time realized the gravity of the past tense verb! Yes, he had loved, once upon a time, because everything was long gone. Flat-dacha-flat. To plant potatoes. To buy groceries. To take them there. To pick up from here. To fix the faucet. To give money for a fur coat… When he tried to talk with his wife about something unearthly, she was completely uninterested. So, he withdrew into himself, and the only outlet for his soul became that small experimental theater he had recently established. The theatre was the only thing that kept him on Earth. He plunged into his brainchild and lived in the theatre for real. Sergey caught himself thinking that everything had been turned upside down: he was himself in the theatre, while he became an actor in real life…

Turning automatically to the right into a small lane, Sergey reached the playground and sat down on a swing. Suddenly, as if sensing something, he turned around. Behind him, a girl was sitting on exactly the same swing.

“Natasha! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you know I live there?” pointing out the house across the street, she asked in surprise.

Sergey remembered that he had paid attention during the interview to the address, indicated in her CV, although said nothing about their shared neighborhood.

“Sorry, I forgot,” he apologized embarrassed, “but why aren’t you at home?”

“I slammed the door, and then realized that I had left the keys in the flat. The neighbors are asleep, and it’s still a long way till morning. I’m sitting here wondering what to do…”

“Do you live alone?”

Natasha nodded. He wanted to ask something else to keep the conversation going, but…

“When you don’t know what to talk about, it’s better to keep silent,” she suddenly said. “Listen, how quiet it is! What stars! We’re always running and looking down at our feet. And they’re always up there, so beautiful. They are looking at us… There’s the brightest one! When I die, will I reach that star?”

“Yes, you will, surely, but you’ll become a star in your lifetime! Why… don’t you ask me how I ended up here?”

“And why should I know about that?”

…Sergey opened the door lock with the help of some iron they had found on the road and … returned to his home, without even drinking a cup of the kindly offered tea.

“See you tomorrow!” with bated breath he whispered to Natasha at the door.

…And all week they returned from the theatre together, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. They seemed to be on the same wavelength, to communicate ‘the same language’ and to understand each other perfectly. However, as usual, all of a sudden, something that would have made Sergey glad just a little while ago, happened, and…

He entered Natasha’s flat for the first time.

“I’m sorry to be uninvited,” Sergey said with a heavy exhale.

She didn’t seem surprised at all by his appearance and with a gesture invited him into the kitchen. He sat down on a stool and didn’t know where to start.

“Today I dreamed of my mother,” Natasha turned to him first and, as always, in a completely calm voice. “She told me to live ‘here and now’.”

“Today, the doctor told me… it’s cancer.”

“Tea or coffee?” Natasha asked still calmly.

“Coffee.”

She was standing by the stove with her back to him. Sergey came over and put his arm around her.

“We all will fly to the stars one day, darling,” Natasha said quietly, addressing him as ‘darling’ for the first time, and added, “There’s a great mystery in it, that you’ll discover soon.”

“It’s funny! My wife started screaming, my friends began to feel pity. You are the only one… If you only knew…”

“I know…”

“I would like… the rest of my time… Well,” it was hard for Sergey to speak, and he thought, “God, how much of the precious time we waste in life on all sorts of nonsense!”

Natasha held out a cup of coffee.

“I promise you that since tomorrow,” she said slowly and clearly, as an oath, “all the following days will be the best of your life!”

Sergey took a sip of coffee and smiled. It was a childish smile. Open. Kind-hearted. Happy…

At that moment Natasha’s phone rang. A friend was leaving for a business trip and asked to shelter her black cat for a couple of days.

“Cats are great! Especially black ones! As long as they don’t cross your path! Okay, honey, I have to go,” Sergey winked at Natasha, putting the cup on the table. And already at the door he stopped and asked again with hope in his voice, “So, see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow!” she nodded and smiled.

Sergey left, singing some children’s song. He suddenly felt completely happy for the first time.

They never saw each other again.

That night he was hit to death by a car while crossing the road on his way home…

February 11, 1994