Chapter Seven
Kiev. A beautiful green city, where around almost every corner one can find something interesting. Here’s Andriyivskyy Descent, the long winding street of cobblestones and the house where the famous writer Mikhail Bulgakov lived. He wrote The Master and Margarita, the story of good and evil that has been read around the world. Here was St. Volodymyr’s Cathedral, with frescoes painted by the world-famous artists Mikhail Vrubel and Viktor Vasnetsov. Holy Sophia Cathedral, Saint Andrew’s Church, St. Michael’s Golden-Domed Monastery. Kiev Pechersk Lavra, the monastery that started out as a series of caves, and the Museum of the Great Patriotic War.
All this created a lasting impression on me, and Mike was just stoked on the beauty of the city, its historical and cultural heritage. I felt proud of my little Ukraine, and gratitude to this overseas man for his sincere interest in our history and culture.
There in Kiev, I introduced my American guest to my son. I was pleasantly surprised how quickly the men hit it off. Mike liked my son a lot; Vova liked Mike.
Oksana and Ken seemed not to get along well for some reason. She kept hinting to him that she needed him to buy something, many things, for her, and he, the silly, just did not understand those hints. Oksana was getting angry. Ken was getting perplexed.
Back home, Mike and I invited them for a dinner at my place. Mike decided to cook himself and please us with roasted pork ribs with barbecue sauce and baked potatoes as was traditional for his homeland.
Dinner was already on the table in my little kitchen, spreading an unusual, appetizing flavor all over my flat, when suddenly Oksana said, “Listen, Polina, let’s switch our guys.”
“What do you mean, switch?” I was surprised.
“Well, easily! I don’t like Ken. I like Mike more. He’s handsome. And I am beautiful too. A better match. And you, as I’ve understood, don’t really care whom you sleep with. You’re not going to get married. By the way, Ken is not that bad in bed. How’s Mike?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t tried,” I said sarcastically.
“At all?”
“At all.”
“Foolish woman! You’ve just wasted your time! Or maybe you are just a stick-in-the-mud.”
“Who told you I’m not going to get married?” I ignored her offensive tone.
“Veronika.”
“Well, you know, I can change my mind.” I seethed with indignation.
“Polina, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?” said Oksana with superiority in her voice, and laughed aloud.
It reminded me of something! Déjà vu, I thought, and then I totally lost control.
“Who the hell do you think you are, Oksana? Want to try for Mike? Be my guest! Do you really think every guy drools over your shape? Just bleach your hair white, put on that screaming red lipstick and you think it’s done? Like that’s all you need? Do not get too offended then if he doesn’t want to experiment with you! What are you gonna do then? Huh? You won’t end up with either of them. Go ahead, try it!”
“Oh, he will want me,” said Oksana, and confidently paraded, wiggling her hips at Mike. Apparently, she was really confident in her irresistible body, platinum-blonde hair, and red lipstick. Mike was sitting at the table, ready to start dinner, when Oksana plopped down on his lap. Caught in surprise, Mike jumped up and Oksana with all the beauty she was ready to use a few minutes ago as her unfailing weapon, fell down splat on the floor.
As she fell, she grabbed the tablecloth, which was set with a steaming hot dinner. Cutlery, the bowl with hot baked potatoes, the pork ribs Mike had cooked according to a special American recipe, ketchup, all that with a crash ended up on Oksana’s head.
“Aarrgh!” cried the temptress.
Ken rushed over to help Oksana get up, but then suddenly stopped, apparently realizing that something was not right in the way she had sat down on Mike’s lap, and right in front of him. He turned to look at Mike, and Ken’s expression could hardly be described. Something combining surprise, indignation, anger, and confusion. Mike’s expression was no better. In addition to all the above-described feelings, his face reflected fear. Then all of us looked at Oksana, sitting on the floor and screaming wildly, and we cracked up. Loudly and uncontrollably.
The picture in front of us was so hilarious that we could not stop laughing. You know from school, if you have to be serious in the classroom, your mouth automatically stretches into an idiotic smile, and your body is shaken by stomach and throat spasms caused by the hidden laughter.
As ill luck would have it, Mike’s special barbeque tomato sauce had spilled right onto Oksana’s head and was slowly running down her face and her long blonde hair. Right on top of her head, like a small hat, there was a pork rib, slathered with the same sauce. In one hand she was holding a potato, probably caught in an attempt to save it from falling to the floor. Sitting there on the floor and crying, she looked like a large child. Only the expression on her face was not childish at all. It was awry with hatred and anger.
“What are you all laughing at?”, Oksana screamed hysterically. “And you, you American pest, it seems funny?
Ken could not understand what she was saying, but he easily determined that her words referred to him, and that they were not nice or friendly.
“Polina, what did she say?”
“I didn’t understand,” I said, trying to calm things down after the hysterical laughter, even though I perfectly understood what the furious Oksana was screaming at him.
“You, you schemer! You set it all up on purpose, didn’t you?” Oksana attacked me.
“Me? Ha-ha-ha! No, how could I? Oh-ho-ho! I had no way to know that you would try to get my man. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha. Now, if I had known, then I would definitely have planned something like this.”
“You are scum, all of you!” was Oksana’s conclusion when she tried to get up. She shouldn’t have done that. In getting up, she bumped into a side table. It fell down, and all the bottles of beer and vodka, the bowls of canned cucumbers and tomatoes broke into pieces on the floor. Anger and hatred are always bad counselors, let alone when it comes to romance, then it is necessary to be especially delicate. But Oksana didn’t know that or was just overcome with her emotions. Whatever it was, she also lost this round in my favor.
I looked at Mike. He looked at his dinner, his hours of work destroyed, lying on the floor. Offended, he turned away and left the kitchen. I suggested to Oksana that she take a shower, and then I went after him.
“What was this all about?” asked Mike.
It was impossible to explain now what Oksana had wanted, and why it had happened. Using all my English vocabulary I convinced both men that tomorrow I would certainly explain all to Veronika, and she would translate, and offered to take them to a dinner at a nice restaurant.
After her shower, Oksana cooled down a bit, but the evening was still ruined. Anyone’s attempt to smile she took as a personal offence. Ken kept badgering me as to why she wanted to sit down on Mike’s lap. I diligently pretended not to understand what he was asking. Finally everyone went home.
The next morning, I called Veronika and explained everything to her. She translated to Mike, Mike talked to Ken, trying to turn everything to a joke. I had no idea that Ken believed in this joke version, but I didn’t care, because Mike suddenly hugged me tightly and kissed me. Oh, it was a truly passionate kiss!
Chapter Eight
Mike and I spent another week talking, walking around the city and having dinner together. During this time, we met up with Ken and Oksana only once. I invited them to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day in the office, where I was hosting the event. Their faces didn’t look happy, unlike Mike’s and mine.
Before the American men left, we decided to go out to dinner once again, for a farewell dinner. We chose a cozy restaurant with traditional Ukrainian cuisine, with waiters in traditional costumes and the appropriate interior decoration. Before that, after thorough thinking, I decided to study English, and if Mike didn�
��t mind, to keep in touch with him. After all, even my grandmother could read and write in Polish and English, besides Russian. Why couldn’t I?
I wasn’t counting on anything more than a virtual friendship. But my unwillingness to get married was no longer that firm.
All of us were at this good-bye party. The gorgeous Veronika and her husband Vladimir, beautiful Oksana with the same expression of contempt fixed on her face. Mike and Ken were excited about the upcoming dinner and their departure. And I? I was a little confused, unable to figure out what I wanted more: for Mike to leave and for me to return to my normal life, or for him to stay, and for me to turn my calm and lonely life on its head, and live merrily and happily with my new American friend.
I couldn’t say now who came up with the idea to determine which of the men could drink more, but I must say it was a bad idea. Everyone got drunk. Vladimir, accustomed to our vodka, was perfectly managing the amount of alcohol, but our guests were drunk as lords. Whatever that meant. At first Mike was trying to prove to me that he drank only once in a blue moon. But besides the word blue, I did not understand anything in that sentence.
But because I was drunk and knew for a fact that in Russian the adjective blue was used to describe a homosexual, I decided he was admitting to being gay. I was shocked, and immediately decided to end the relationship. Thank heaven Veronika noticed that I was about to make some stupid decision, and when I explained to her about everything I had supposedly realized, at first she laughed for a long time, and then explained that this expression meant rarely. There are months when the full moon appears in the sky twice a month. But this happens not very often. And that gave birth to this expression.
After this it was my turn to laugh. So after all, I decided not to jump to conclusions when I was drunk. Happy, I ran to hug Mike for not being gay.
Meanwhile Ken decided to get acquainted with all the diners of the restaurant. He sat at different tables, started up sociable conversation, then drank with them, ate, and even danced the Hopak, not worse than any Ukrainian.
At the end of the evening he stole toilet paper from the restaurant to take to America, show his friends and discuss with them the question: how could such a rigid paper touch such a delicate place as someone’s bottom? So, we had a great time and enjoyed the evening to its fullest.
That night poor Mike was driving the porcelain bus in the john while I was sitting in the kitchen drinking tea and having no idea how to help him. Shame will never allow him to come to see me again. Those were my thoughts.
Next morning I was barely able to wake him up to get to the airport in time for his flight back to Alaska. But though it was evident that he was suffering from severe hangover, he acted normally, and even tried to joke when talking about our last night together.
Ken and Oksana were not talking to each other.
“Polina, did Mike give you any money?” she asked.
“No.”
“At all?”
“At all. Why? Why would he”
“Ken gave me four hundred hryvnas, so I tore them up and threw them in his face.”
“Why? After all, it’s good money, almost $100. I could live for a month on that.”
I did not want to talk to her. Not only because of a sleepless night, but in general, I was feeling down.
At the gate Mike said, “I left the book I was reading on the table. Inside I put a letter for you. I tried to write in simple words, but if you don’t understand something, ask Veronika to help you. When you read it, you’ll understand. Thank you for everything.”
Well, that’s it, I thought. He probably wrote that I was a good woman, and thanked me for everything, but we were too different and too far from each other. So it’s the end of my adventure and happy time with Mike.
Back home, first thing I did was open the book. I found the letter and three hundred dollars that Mike had put between its pages. Considering the fact that it was possible to live for a hundred dollars per month, this sum was a fortune to me. The letter was easy for me to understand. I read without any difficulty:
“Dear Polina,
I spent two wonderful weeks with you. You are a very nice woman. I’d like to leave you some money as an investment in the development of our relationship. I suspect you would refuse to take it (I am sure you would), so I left it in the book, together with the letter. I would like you to find a good teacher who can help you learn English so that we could know each other better. I would like to return soon. Thank you for your hospitality. Mike.”
I was grateful for the money, but the rest didn’t sound too real. Time would tell, I decided, mentally patting my guardian angel on his warm, silky head.
After he came back into my life, I never lost him again, and from time to time, talked to him in my head, trying to figure out how to not hurt him again, and asked for help or advice. After this I lay down on the bed and immediately fell asleep like a baby.
Chapter Nine
Victor was a heaven-sent tutor. He had been teaching English at the local university in the department of foreign languages. Tired of the stupid rules of our educational system and various limitations on foreign language teaching methods, he gave up the work at the university and was now giving private lessons to children and adults like me. He had personalized and individual approaches to everyone, therefore the results were quick and evident. Mike wrote to me every day, called every week. And after a couple of months, I could understand him more or less and was even able to answer some questions.
I was studying hard. All the walls in my flat were covered with posters with words. Later on there were phrases I had to memorize. On the ceiling there was a huge poster, which contained neatly written irregular verbs in three columns. They also had to be learnt by heart. Waking up in the morning and opening my eyes the first thing I saw was this list of irregular verbs. The same when I went to bed. Willy-nilly, I couldn’t help but read them twice a day, so soon remembered every one of them. And even when I was taking a bath, in the mirror, instead of myself I was looking at the lyrics that Victor asked me to learn at home. When I wrote an answer to Mike, I first showed it to Victor. He was checking not only grammar mistakes, but also the general sense of the letter.
Once, after reading my letter, he asked, “And what are you trying to say here?”
I explained.
“But you’ve written totally the opposite! In English, there can’t be two negatives, the so-called double negation, because the denial of one denies the latter. As the result you get a positive statement.”
That’s how tricky the English language turned out to be.
But after he clearly explained my mistakes to me, we used to laugh at what Mike would have thought if he had read the letter the way I first wrote it.
Sometimes, even after thoroughly learning a given task at home, in the morning after getting to class, I discovered that I remembered absolutely nothing. That made me angry. I even cried a few times. Victor smiled silently, gave me the opportunity to cry out all the insecurity, and would explain the material again. So the time was going fast for me, doing my work, and being in English class.
Chapter Ten
The second half of April was particularly good because of its wonderful weather. Warm air, full of the delicious scent of flowering apricot and cherry trees, was tickling the nose, and increasing the content of adrenaline in the blood. I wanted to sing, dance, and enjoy life. I wanted to love. And it was not just me. Cats were screaming at night. Thank heaven I was not a cat, otherwise I would scream myself hoarse, I thought, and I laughed. But I was a human being and my system of self-regulation to fix myself up was working perfectly.
Self-regulation of mood became my primary target as soon as I got discharged from the hospital after the accident. I thought if the mere thought of a lemon could make salivary glands produce saliva, why not imagine yourself joyful, happy, and make your body produce those hormones responsible for good mood? It turned out you could! Of course, it didn’t happen b
y itself. I had to learn how to do that, and I worked hard to succeed. The development of these abilities took me about two years. But what a wonderful result. The technique of this phenomenon is described in the books of many doctors, psychologists, and even in some fiction.
One of these techniques I learned from my former classmate, whom I once visited after surviving the explosion and burns. Having settled down in one of the most favorite places of Ukrainian women, the kitchen, we made some tea and plunged into a passionate discussion about the meaning of life and how to make this life more happy. Nina, the name of my classmate, was an artist. Most such people had a creative and very delicate soul. There was a total collapse and disorder in the country, and such delicate sorts, such as my Nina, suffered from deep imbalances that prevailed in almost everything. I was not one with a delicate nature, but I also suffered. So we both were looking for a way to happiness, or at least some spiritual comfort, conversing with pleasure on how to learn to be happy.
Until recent times it was believed that genes, education, and training built up a character, while character affected one’s destiny. But then there began to appear different studies of scientists, doctors, and psychologists, which promoted the idea of Kozma Prutkov, Tolstoy’s character who always said, “If you want to be happy, be happy.”
Many philosophers and religious had already come to the conclusion that a thought is material. Now neuroscientists and physicists confirmed it. It turns out that we are able to create our own destiny. Or, at least, to dream, so that those dreams could be fulfilled. With a dream, a wish, or a prayer, which may create some sort of space in the cosmic ethers, which the universe rushes to fill in the shape of our thoughts.
One of the main conditions for fulfillment of one’s desires is to be happy. First be thankful for everything that surrounds you, and therefore you’ll be happy. And then you can dream and make plans for this dream to come true.
My Angel Page 10