Читать книгу Ruby - O.A. - Страница 3

I open a textbook on histology. A chill runs down my spine. My hands shake. A little more and I will cry. I have only one day to prepare for the exam. In no case can I fail it since this is the third and last retake. If I fail, I will be expelled from the medical academy and then I will have to go home or even worse, join the army. We could say that life would end right there. I open the textbook at random: “Cytoarchitectonics of the Spinal Cord”. Lord God, I don’t have enough days to remember even that name… How did I manage to enter a medical academy? How is it that I have absolutely no knowledge of the training material I have already passed? How could I allow this to happen?

“Oleg, wake up! Get up.”

Camilla was standing by the bed and shaking my shoulder. From her tousled hair and the fact that she was wearing her giant Eiffel Tower night shirt, I could tell that she had only just gotten up.

“Oleg, get up. We have an urgent meeting.”

“How glad I am that you woke me up,” I said in a whisper. “… even if only to report that a meteorite is flying at us and we will all die, that would be definitely better than what I was dreaming about. What time is it?”

Cam looked around in confusion, trying to find a clock.

“I don’t know, about four in the morning. We’re in trouble. Amir’s father just died.”

Amir and Sophia were already sitting at the kitchen table. Sopha was wearing pajamas, and Amir a pair of jeans and a buttoned-up lightweight windbreaker. Each had a mug of coffee in front of them. Two more mugs were waiting for me and Camilla.

Why coffee so early? Why drink anything at all right now?

While Amir waited for a taxi to the airport, he told us that his father had died of a massive stroke at the age of 64. His sister had told him this news at about one in the morning. Sophia had helped him buy a ticket online on the next flight to where his father had lived. Then Camilla had made everyone coffee before waking me up. I sat and did not know what to say. Best friend that’s called.

What can you say in such a situation? Will comforting words make it easier? If I were in Amir’s place, I would not want to discuss the issue, nor accept words of condolence from which it certainly would not become easier, nor would I want to see anyone.

The worst thing of all is that I did not feel any empathy at all for my friend’s or what he was feeling. Maybe it was because my brain hadn’t woken up yet? But what if I really don’t care? Amir is alive. Each of us will face the death of our parents someday. Almost everyone, in fact, goes through this. It’s part of life. You can’t prepare for it, it can only be accepted. Someday I will have to go through it too and at such a moment I will have absolutely no time for condolences, but now I cannot and do not want to put myself in Amir’s place. I just want to sleep. Does that make me a bad friend and a bad person?

“My dearest friend, please know that we are with you,” I said and that only because I had to at least say something.

“Thanks, bro, I know. That’s it, the taxi has just pulled up.” Amir got up and put his phone in his windbreaker pocket. “It’s time…”

We all left the table and went into the corridor.

“Okay, guys, I’m not saying goodbye. When everything is over… I don’t think I’ll be long.” Amir put on his backpack. “I should be back in two weeks, maximum in a month.”

The sisters and I took turns hugging him.

Sophia closed the door behind him.

There were about two and a half hours left before the alarm went off and as luck would have it I now had no desire to sleep.

A quick death from a massive stroke is probably not so bad. In my opinion, anything is better than being locked inside your own body and slowly fading away… Waiting for it to stop functioning and shut down.

After I had received my university diploma, I decided that it was time for me to change cities to a larger one. I had to go to a place where very few people knew me and where I could finally afford to have a relationship with a guy.

It always seemed to me, probably thanks to the suggestions of adults, that everything should be done in order: “First, get a diploma, then hang around wherever you want,” “first enter some university after you finish school, then you can rest and relax,” “first finish your studies so that you will not be expelled, then you can do whatever you want.” However, it was only now that I understand how much time had been lost, but really that is another topic.

My choice fell on a large city in the south of the European part of the country. In the city itself, my stepfather’s nephew lived with his family, whom I had to stay with until I got on my feet when I first got there. Outside the city, in a small village, lived the nephew’s mother, my stepfather’s sister grandma Dusya, an amusing 82-year-old granny. Having worked all her life at a cement plant, she was still able to plant and dig up potatoes in her incredible garden, keep livestock and take care of the house.

As soon as I arrived and unpacked my things, my stepfather’s nephew took me to visit his mother and say hello. Everything went well at first, until he decided to go to the melon fields for a watermelon and I was left alone with grandmother Dusya.

While she was setting the table, I went out to the garden to look at the sunflowers. Returning to the house I heard the continuous whistling of the kettle. Going into the kitchen, I turned it off. Grandma Dusya was lying face down on the sofa in the living room. As was learned later she had had a stroke. I immediately called for an ambulance in which we went to the hospital without first waiting for her son.

After Grandma Dusya was transferred from the intensive care unit to a regular two-bed room, for the first few days I lived with her in the hospital (after consulting with her son, we both decided that it would be better to keep her under the supervision of someone close, not just the medical staff). She was now completely paralyzed and she could not speak. I’m not even sure if she understood everything one hundred percent. Her gaze was blank most of the time, but there were also lucid glimpses and times when it seemed that she wanted to say something but was not able to.

About two weeks later (before the damn bedsores appeared which somehow arose despite my efforts to stretch her legs and arms and massage her, for which I had the skills) her stool appeared normal and her ability to speak began to return as a bonus.

Once, to my question: “Grandma Dusya, how are you doing today?” she was able to answer: “As white as soot”, but the improvements were like waves, coming and going.

I don’t even know exactly what I was experiencing all the time I was taking care of her. I think it was some kind of mixture of pity, sympathy and understanding. I thought I understood what her gaze was trying to communicate and I also had thoughts of helping her end it all, but these remained only thoughts.

All the time that I was caring for grandmother Dusya, my psyche reacted very strangely. I imagined myself as an actor in some sitcom and treated what was happening as if it was an inadmissible irony as I understand now.

In the end, naturally, a miracle did not happen and she died. Long tormented and unwittingly tormenting all of the people close to her.

I believe it was a terrible, heavy death. Therefore, Amir’s father was lucky and the fact that it happened unexpectedly was also fortunate, for Amir as well. Death is not easy in any way, but the levels of its severity are also different. It can come crashing down on you, crush you, steamroll you into a pancake or completely wipe you out and leave nothing at all that was once you. I believe that it all just depends on the factors of time and surprise.

Then again, maybe I really don’t think so, and my thoughts are caused by the irritation that Amir’s father had a stroke on a weekday, when I need to get some sleep before the next working day, and not on a weekend, when I don’t have to set the alarm.

I hope I’m not a bad person.

Part 2

When I got home from work, Cam and Sopha were already in the kitchen.

“Looks like I had a nervous breakdown. In five minutes we’ll meet at the same place.” I said loudly and, taking off my shoes, went into my room.

After washing with cold water, going to the toilet and changing into pajama pants and my favorite T-shirt with an image of Daria7, I kind of calmed down a little and went into the kitchen.

“I have had too little time to orient myself after your words.” Camilla put a plate of scrambled eggs and tomatoes on the table.

“So, we are ready to listen, tell us, what happened?” Sophia moved to the windowsill, placing a cup of either coffee or cocoa next to her.

“I yelled at a colleague today because he, passing by and seeing my thoughtful look, asked: ‘What? Dreaming about girls?’ Girls… With that question he opened such a Pandora’s Box… All I remember is that I was yelling at him. I remember some kind of uncontrollable blind rage, but I have absolutely no memory of what I was shouting at him.” I took a deep breath. “I hope I didn’t tell him to fuck off… although that cannot be excluded.”

“So you were outraged by the question about girls?” Sophia took a sip from the mug.

“Yes. Why girls? Now I understand how inadequate my reaction was. Such behavior is not typical for me at all.”

“Are you still taking the medication? Exactly in the doses as agreed with the doctor?” Cam asked.

“Yes, Yes, Yes!” for a split second, rage flashed in my chest again. “I take these fucking pills all the time and they have a lot of damn side effects. I don’t understand why they don’t help me. Maybe I’m not bipolar at all, but just suffering some kind of psychosis, and they are not treating me for what I am sick with. And when they finally understand this, it will be too late.”

“Listen, you’ve been taking them relatively recently,” Sopha began, “it should take some time, the body needs to get used to them. And most likely, these drugs have a cumulative effect of course for them to start working. It takes time before they accumulate in the right amounts in your body. You are worrying too much.”

“You’re just a veterinarian, not a doctor! How would you know?” Sophia’s last phrase blew away my remaining nerve cells. I even felt a throbbing behind my eyeballs from the rage that consumed me. “I’m worrying too much? That is, I’m making everything up? I’m just getting myself wound up? It’s not really that bad?”

During the last three questions, tears were already flowing from my eyes and mucus from my nose. I covered my face with my hands and burst into tears. I caught myself thinking that when I entered the kitchen, I seemed to be watching myself from the sidelines.

Could it really be me?

So… You need to drive away such thoughts.

Drive-drive-drive them away from yourself.

“Excuse me,” I squeezed out through sobs. “I am very ashamed of all of this.”

“It’s okay,” Camilla hugged me from behind. “You know that we are close and we love you.”

“Sopha, I’m sorry, please excuse me,” I continued, feeling guilty.

“Never mind sunshine. I understand everything perfectly.” Sophia took another sip from the mug.

What is she drinking?

“How are you doing with Herman?”

“You know… Everything seems to be fine. Herman is a very, very good person. Kind, and a little weird. I don’t know. I mean in the sense that I haven’t had SUCH guys before. He is very gentle and courteous. We slept together. I mean really just slept. We both lay down next to each other and fell asleep. He didn’t even hint about sex in any way, not that I’m against that. It feels like he is either from an extinct breed of gentlemen or is still a virgin. He kisses me gently on the lips when we meet and before going to bed but he hasn’t even tried to put his tongue in my mouth. He’s like a big bobblehead. On the one hand, everything suits me but on the other hand… I don’t understand what is going on in his head. I like it but it does cause a little, just a little, strain because I don’t quite understand how to behave around him… sometimes.”

During all the time that we have lived together, Sophia has had serious relationships only twice. The first time was with a nice lawyer who went to Canada for a couple of months, and in the end stayed there. The second time was with a fitness trainer, who was also a psychologist but in the relationship the psychologist was just Sopha. They broke up due to the fact that, having received a marriage proposal from him, Sophia voiced an alternative: if after ten years of living together they were still together, then she would most likely agree, because for her marriage is a jump into the abyss of the unknown, with a parachute that may or may not open.

Well, as for me, both the lawyer and the psychologist were unworthy assholes. That’s probably because I could not imagine myself with them, but I can imagine myself with Herman. Therefore, I think that he is a really good choice.

The evening, which began with hysteria, smoothly spilled over into emotional conversations and shared memories.

“Cam, can you do a reading for me?”

Not that I really wanted to know what was in store for me. Rather, I was even afraid of that. I just wanted to please my friend.

“I thought you would never ask.” Camilla burst out enthusiastically. “What card layout do you want? A Celtic Cross, a Horseshoe or…”

“The one that is the simplest and the fastest.” I interrupted.

“Give me a couple of minutes.” Cam went to get the deck.

“So then, I am going to sleep. Don’t stay up too late.” Sophia got up from the table.

“Okay, Mom. Goodnight.”

“So, so,” Camilla tapped her fingers on the table, “you got three cards: the Hanged Man, Death and the Emperor. It turns out the alignment is only of senior cards. We’re looking at the near future, aren’t we?”

I nodded.

“I can tell right away that there will be something unpleasant but you can handle it. There will be some strong nervous tension. You will look at the situation with the wrong mood, from some kind of curved angle that is incorrect. The Hanged Man card often indicates an enclosed space. I would say that you will be sent to jail. And the Death card is nearby. Death indicates danger or some kind of trouble, moreover unexpected. I like the Emperor’s card. It says that either you will be well protected or you will prove yourself an authority. In any case, you will keep the situation under control. Do you want to try to get more details?”

“No, thanks, my eyes are already closing, I’m going to bed and I’ll think about the situation in the morning.”

I didn’t understand a damn thing.

I cleared the dishes off the table and put them in the sink and was on my way to the bathroom when Camilla said to me: “And one more thing… Beware of water. I can’t figure out why yet but the Hanged Man is water.”

“Yeah sure, exactly.”

So, I shouldn’t wash now?

“Probably, you are just going to have some fun during the upcoming weekend.”

I didn’t answer.

After brushing my teeth and placing the toothbrush in the glass, I took out the dental floss. After unrolling the desired length and securing it around my middle fingers, I began to gently insert the thread between my teeth. I started on the right side, then the front teeth and then closer and closer to the desired place, the upper left wisdom tooth.

When I reached it, I took a deep breath. And as I exhaled, pressed hard with the dental floss into the gap between the teeth.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I smiled. All my teeth were covered in blood. I call it my Red Smile.

It seems that this time I overdid the strength part a little…

There are times when I can’t cope with stress, I go through outbursts of anger or suffer waves of despair, which is almost always then, I resort to the relief that pain gives me if I remember it in time.

When I feel physical pain, mental pain disappears somewhere into the background, I can’t concentrate on it and it dissipates like fog.

The main thing is not to forget about allowing for the possibility of making myself feel such pain. And it needs it to be quickly accessible.

I do not consider myself a masochist, but when you are drowning, you’ll not only grab a life vest but also a red-hot pipe if necessary.

My red-hot pipe is a deep cut in my gum that needs to be refreshed periodically. If I feel impending alarm, I press my tongue on my gum. Then there are the toenails on my big toes, trimmed to grow into the skin. If I feel that I am about to lose control, I shift the center of gravity from my heels to my toes.

I remember the operation to correct the septum of my nose. For me it was, perhaps, not the happiest of times but in fact it was one of the best because for the first days after the operation and during the following days of healing, the inability to breathe through my nose allowed me to concentrate only on my physical condition. Besides the physical pain there was also a wonderful feeling, as if there was a country filled with rainbows in my chest, one in which elves and unicorns made love. Each one with its own kind of course. At that moment that is how I imagined inner harmony.

Part 3

Someone was standing outside the circle of light cast from the lantern. Levy knew it couldn’t be Ethan or Caleb. The silhouette of the man did not move. Levy carefully backed away until he disappeared around the corner of the building. It appears that he was unnoticed. He needed to look for some other way, there wasn’t much time left.

Levy returned to the building of the third section of the surgical department. If he went to the end then there would be a chance to come out on the other side and exit unnoticed, but he couldn’t turn on the flashlight, otherwise the creatures would react to the light again. However, it takes a very long time to move by touch in the dark.

Below was an underground floor! There were no windows down there so therefore no one outside would be able to see the light from the flashlight. He continued moving along from memory to the exit onto the stairs, Levy opened the door and went through it but even in the dark he could see that the stairs were not there. He turned on the flashlight and saw there was a long corridor in front of him which did not fit into the scheme of the building in any way. This was simply not possible. Some 15 minutes ago there was a staircase behind this door. So, the changes had already begun…

Levy felt a strong draft, which meant that now he was not alone on the floor. Maybe there is just the one he saw in the light? There was too little time for reflection. He took a step forward and carefully closed the door behind him so as not to signal his location with noise.

The light from the flashlight pulled part of the corridor out of the darkness. It seemed that it had no end and if there was, then the power of the flashlight was not strong enough so that the light penetrated to the farthest point. There were no windows in the walls on either side only old ragged wallpaper and in some places the already familiar black mold.

Levy quickened his pace. About 20 seconds had gone by but there was still nothing ahead but darkness.

On the wall to the right, Levy saw a painting. It depicted a naked man in a cage hanging in the air over a fiery abyss. A chill ran down Levy’s spine. He recognized his own features on the face of the person who had been drawn.

Further, on the right side there were more pictures. One showed a man who looked like Ethan. He was impaled and around him, terrible twisted children danced in a circle. The next picture depicted a man who looked like Caleb, or rather, parts of him. The arms, legs and head were torn off from the torso and lay around it forming the shape of a five-pointed star.

The next picture depicted Sandra. With two heads: one with closed eyes and a sewn-up mouth, the other with horns and eyes from which a bright light came.

The further Levy ran, the larger the corridor became. The ceiling got higher, the walls moved farther apart and he could see more pictures and their plot was unchanged, only torture and death.

And then the corridor ended. If at the beginning only two people could fit side by side in it, now the walls were at a distance of about five meters from each other and the ceiling was at the level of a two-story house. There were three doors in front of Levy with inscriptions he could not understand: Suspensus8, Mortem9 and Caesar10.

He took a bottle filled with flammable liquid from his backpack, unscrewed the cap and stuffed a piece of handkerchief into it. The result was a Molotov cocktail. Anything at all could be waiting outside the door for him so he needed to be prepared for anything.

Levy chose the door in the middle, marked Mortem. The handle was icy, but it turned easily. He found himself in a room that looked like a huge ceremonial hall. It was not clear whether there were windows here or not, since all the walls were covered with draperies made of dense red velvet fabric. Light came from lighted candles placed along the walls, so the flashlight could be turned off. It felt that the room had been specially prepared for some event.

Levy’s breath caught in his throat at what he saw in the center of the room, a metal cage, as in the picture.

“It turned out to be much easier than we thought.” came Sandra’s voice.

Because of the echo, Levy could not figure out exactly where it was coming from.

“What do you want from me? What do you want from all of us?” he asked the emptiness in a trembling voice.

“Don’t pretend to be a fool you saw what awaits each of you. That is what I need. Only then can I enter your world.”

Levy took a few steps forward and saw the source of the voice; a creature with Sandra’s appearance peeked out from behind the cage like a small child playing hide-and-seek.

Levy slowly took a lighter from the back pocket of his jeans, but did not dare to use it yet, since he was still about seven meters to the cage and he could not calculate his strength.

“Is there no other way?”

“Even if there is, it is not interesting for me. What could be better than watching your torment?” The creature came out from behind the cage, “Do you think you die after death? The beauty is baby, that here you will be dying forever. It will never stop.”

“But what’s the point?” Levy slowly took two steps forward.

“For this place to live it needs to be nourished.” the creature opened the door of the cage and made an invitation with its hand. “Well? Will you do it yourself or should I help you in?”

Levy struck the lighter, set fire to the Molotov cocktail and threw the bottle at the monster but due to the terror that held him back and his shaking hands, the effect of surprise did not work, the creature caught the bottle and laughed.

“What, you wanted to set me on fire?” the vile creature continued to laugh. “Do you think I’m afraid of fire? My, oh my! I am fire!”

The creature smashed the bottle on the floor and stepped into the puddle of fire.

“I am the damned fire!” It howled in a voice that no longer belonged to Sandra.

What happened next can only be described as an eerie performance. The fire completely engulfed the creature, but at the same time it was clear that it did not hurt it. The creature flew up above the cage and spread its arms in the pose of a crucified Jesus. Its eyes lit up with a bright light and a flaming liquid that resembled lava flowed out of his open mouth.

While the creature floated in the air, the fire reached the walls. Levy realized that, most likely, only a miracle would help him get out alive.

Part 4

The support group meeting was supposed to start in 25 minutes, and I still hadn’t found the building I was looking for. The GPS navigator in the phone pointed to a building complex that has a bunch of buildings that are not displayed on the map, one huge series of continuous labyrinth-like-courtyards.

“Are you lost?” I heard a somewhat familiar voice coming from somewhere behind me.

Turning around, I did not immediately notice the bearded bum I had met recently. He was sitting on some steps by an old rusty door on a large sheet of cardboard. He looked exactly the same as when we had first met. I was sure that his smell had also remained the same, so I decided not to come closer and keep my distance while talking to him.

“Yeah, hello. I’m looking for the eighth entrance to the thirteenth building. Can you tell me, am I actually moving in the right direction?”

“I recognized you! Thank you for the food you left for me! You still look sad.”

“And you are still alive,” I somehow burst out.

“Yeah, you know… There are good days and there are bad ones. I’m feeling better now and I’m not going to die at all. Not today, not tomorrow, not anytime soon.”

“That’s great, you’re great!”

I felt a rolling wave of either melancholy or sadness, probably because he remembers our conversation. Yes, most likely, this is what upset me but I don’t know why. I felt that understanding the reason was somewhere very close, I just needed to dig a little deeper but now I don’t have time for that, because I need to find the damn thirteenth building with a frickin eighth entrance.

“So can you tell me how to get to the thirteenth building?”

“It is located behind that one,” the bum pointed to the building behind me, “but to get there, you need to return to the roadway and go in from the other side.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Are you going to a psychologist?”

“How did you know?”

“You’re not the first one who can’t find that building. And psychologists work there.”

“Do you live here?”

It’s a bum, dumbass! He’s homeless!

“Not specifically in this place but in the nearby courtyards. There are still entrances without combination locks, many awnings under which you can wait out the rain and I just like it here.”

“Then I think I’ll see you again. All the best!”

“And all the best to you,” the bum smiled. “… and, don’t be sad!”

I! AM! NOT! Sad! It’s just my face.

“I won’t.” I mumbled and headed in the right direction.

The room for the meeting or the session, I don’t know what to call such an event, turned out to be very similar to a school classroom. The tables were all placed along the walls to provide more space in the center of the room. By the entrance was a table lined with empty plastic cups, disposable plates, a thermos, an electric kettle and a large plate full of shortbread cookies mixed in together with candy in wrappers. There was also a box with blank stickers on the table. As a large middle-aged woman who noticed my confused look explained to me; I had to take a sticker, write my name on it and stick it on my clothes so that it was clear what my name was. Then, when everyone is assembled, everyone will take a chair and sit in a circle.

That’s not how I imagined everything.

To be honest, I was hoping to see some bright, outstanding personalities. Nice guys with tattoos and girls like Amy Winehouse11, but the circle turned out to be much more boring, I would even say that it was somehow insipidly so.

To the left of my seat was the large woman who had given me the little briefing ten minutes ago. The sticker suggested that her name was Lydia. I won’t be surprised if she’s some kind of Lydia Petrovna or Lydia Ivanovna and a teacher of Russian language and literature at some school.

To her left was a handsome man of about 40 with a short haircut. His jacket had a sticker with the name Roman. I dared to assume that he was the psychotherapist leading this group. On the one hand, it’s nice that he’s so cute but on the other it means that I will hardly succeed with him, since he is a “doctor” and I am a “patient”. Eh…

The next was a girl named Lisa. Her most distinctive feature was a crooked nose apart from that, at first glance, she was an ordinary, unremarkable girl.

A tall man with curly black hair sat next to her. On his sticker, the name was written in very clumsy handwriting, so I could not make it out. I decided that he was probably a computer science teacher at some university and the students probably love him because he doesn’t give bad marks.

To his left was another girl but it’s better to immediately describe the three girls who were sitting next to him. I assumed that they came here most often and already felt at home here. This could be seen by their behavior. Alena, sitting next to the curly haired man was short, with long hair pulled into a ponytail. She smiled too much for me.

Natalia was sitting next to her. A tall woman with thinning hair dyed black. Another distinguishing feature she had were her nails, the length of which, in my opinion, she had gone too far with. And there were more than enough rhinestones on them.

Directly to my right was Galina, a woman with short hair and thick glasses.

All these three smiled and laughed too much. I wanted to ask them: “What is your damn problem?”

“Good afternoon everyone! So nice to see new faces!” for some reason it was Natalia who said this, and then, standing up and taking the tablet of paper on which she had been sitting, continued: “Let’s say hi to Roman and Oleg.”

What the hell?!

All those present greeted us rather weakly.

I didn’t understand anything. Maria had said that a specialist would be leading the group and I had thought it would be a man.

On Roman’s face one could see slight bewilderment as well.

“Today much fewer than usual have gathered.” Natalia continued. “Let’s start with you guys. Tell us about yourselves.”

She turned to me and Roman.

Since I didn’t really like anyone here, except maybe Roman, I didn’t feel any embarrassment. Moreover, Natalia, with her nails, did not in any way resemble a psychotherapist, psychologist, psychiatrist, or anyone like that. Therefore, I decided not to be too ceremonious.

“I beg your pardon,” I began, “will you be leading this group? My therapist said it was being led by a man. Therefore, I want to clarify whether I am in the wrong place or what.”

“Yes, Evgeny Petrovich is now on vacation, but we have already gotten together without him from time to time. There are many of us, we have our own Facebook group, and we all know each other. Alena and I are usually the hosts. Therefore, you are welcome to our friendly company.”

No thanks.

It was very unprofessional for Maria to merge me into a group of morons like that, without finding out whether it is still being led by a “specialist” or not.

Well, I was setup.

“Which of you will start first?”

I made a pointing gesture with my palm towards Roman.

“Hello everyone. My name is Roman. I am 38 years old. I am a journalist…” and he has a beautiful voice. Such a pleasant, soothing timbre… “I was diagnosed about a month ago. I learned about you from my psychotherapist, who sent me here for the duration of her vacation.” Do we have the same one by any chance? “Anything else I need to tell you all?”

Roman sat with his back straight, his hands on his knees, a very interesting pose. He seems very pleasant and sweet to me.

“I think I’ll say on behalf of everyone that we are very pleased to meet you, Roman.” Natalia smiled.

Don’t you dare come on to him you bitch.

“Oleg?”

It seems like I need to show off and please Roman. Hope he’s not straight.

Here we gooooo!

“Hello everyone. My name is Oleg. I am 30. I have type 2 bipolar disorder. I was also referred here by my psychotherapist who also went on vacation. Everyone seems to be here on some sort of vacation flash mob.” I made a short pause so I could jump in ahead of Natalia, and as soon as she opened her mouth to say something, I continued: “Oh, yes, I’m also gay.”

“We are pleased that you are here, Oleg.” She said somehow crookedly, after a second pause, Natalia smiled crossing her arms over her chest.

Behind her, this movement was repeated by almost everyone, except for Roman and Lisa.

“Who wants to share their successes with the group or tell everyone something?”

I definitely don’t like it here. More precisely, I do not like Natalia with her crossed arms and all those repeaters who did exactly the same.

“For the record I have all the signs of depression written all over my face.” Lisa began, spreading her arms. “People disgust me, except artistic people. No offense.”

Her I like!

“And not just disgust, they are nauseating to me, and I hate them.” she continued.

I think we’ll get along.

“Life itself pisses me off and these stupid, cheerful people. What are they so damn happy about? Some dubious pleasures from which not a trace will remain after death. Everything is completely screwed up this whole life is completely screwed.”

I take my words back it’s not so bad here.

“Why the hell do you have to go to work and to feed a body which only causes headaches? Wash it, shave it, comb it, now it’s cold, then it’s hot. Then it gets old and becomes ugly, which makes it even more upsetting. It also hurts and scars are left on it. And then death and so much effort just wasted for nothing. If not for my daughter, I would definitely do something to myself.”

To be honest, I thought it would be more boring here. After Lisa, someone else spoke up, but I no longer listened to anyone and disappeared into my own thoughts. I did not expect that the state she described would be so similar to mine. Not at the moment but in general, I understood, even knew exactly what she was talking about. Not about death. I never intended to do anything to myself. There were times, of course, when I wouldn’t have minded if something had happened to me, some kind of accident, a meteorite or some kind of ruptured aneurysm, but I myself would never do anything like that.

There had been a time when Cam, Sopha and Amir decided that I wanted to jump off the roof but I had just been sitting on the edge then. At that time, I still did not have a diagnosis nor medications. I had drunk a bottle and a half of wine that evening, but I was not drunk. I WAS VERY ILL. I felt such an extreme level of destructive sadness, melancholy and hopelessness, that I can only associate it with rust eating up sheets of iron.

I took the key to the door leading to the roof. I don’t know why, but out of all the residents of our particular entrance, the key was only kept by us. I grabbed the bottle with the remnants of the wine and went to sit upstairs to look at the city at night. I never thought of jumping.

If I had decided to commit suicide, which is unlikely, I would have first written a damn touching note and drank sleeping pills to leave in peace. Flying off the roof on the other hand would definitely cause me to experience high stress.

So that’s it, but the guys decided that I had wanted to jump, which made me very upset and angry. As a result, as soon as I heard Sophia behind my back, who evenly said that I needed to calm down and crawl away from the edge so as not to do anything stupid, I in anger threw the bottle from the roof, got up abruptly and went back to the apartment.

At first, the guys were very wary, but no one spoke to me on the topic. They just pretended that nothing of the kind had happened.

After the time allotted for the meeting came to an end, I was the very first to leave the facility, when there were still people who were staying for tea and that healthy plate of cookies and sweets.

I decided to go into the courtyard where my friend, the homeless person, was sitting, in order to ask what he needed in the form of basic necessities, and if possible, to buy them.

“Oleg,” I heard a voice behind me, “wait five seconds.”

It was Roman.

“I didn’t have time to get to know you personally,” he approached with a quick step and held out his hand.

“Glad to meet you Roman,” I replied with a handshake.

Taller than me by a head. Pleasant appearance. Nice scent of perfume.