“Polina, and who is that?” Mike asked me, pointing to a statue with ears the size of its head, which stood next to the figure of a crocodile.
“That’s Cheburashka.”
“Who is the Cheburashka? Is that a bear cub, born in Chernobyl?”
“No! Chernobyl has nothing to do with him!” I burst out laughing. “It’s just a toy. From a book. Imaginary one.”
But Mike stubbornly saw a fat little bear cub with huge ears, even if not from Chernobyl. So for now I had to agree to “just a bear cub with big ears.”
We were walking a lot, talking, laughing, and fooling around like kids. Mike turned out to be cheerful, inquisitive, and light on his feet.
“Dushka, look! And who is that?” asked Mike, pointing to the figure of Tiiani-tolkai, from a fairy tale about Dr. Aybolit, a veterinarian. It looks like an antelope, or a horse with two heads, and is a close friend of Dr. Aybolit, whose Russian name means “Dr. Oh-It-Hurts.” At first I tried to explain who this imaginary animal was, which was also not an easy task, and then wondered, “Where did you hear this word, dushka?”
It turned out that Mike heard it in the bar car of the train, where we looked in for a dinner on our way here. There one of the drunken customers used it addressing a waitress. She didn’t get offended, and even laughed, so Mike concluded that the word was good, remembered it, and decided I would be pleasantly surprised.
I was surprised, so he was extremely happy and pleased with himself.
Back home, in December we repacked our bags and went off to the land of legends and Pharaohs. To Egypt.
Chapter Sixteen
During my first airplane flight, I felt like it was the last day of my life. Of course I did my best not to display that, but after Mike showed the marks from my nails, which I dug into his hand every time we hit an air pocket, it would be foolish to persuade him I was brave and courageous. Moreover I was reassuring myself that everyone was scared the first time. But honestly speaking, I was very happy when the plane landed at the airport of Hurghada, where a guide, an unkempt Egyptian with a face only a mother could love, was waiting for us with his taxi.
He drove us to an unusually clean and beautiful five-star Hilton hotel. For me, an ordinary Ukrainian woman, struggling to make ends meet, strongly determined there was no way I could fall in love, not to mention get married, such a difference from my everyday life seemed like a miracle. Or maybe it was a miracle. My life was turning into a fairy tale. And I felt like beautiful Belle from my favorite American Walt Disney cartoon movie, Beauty and the Beast. Mike, however, didn’t really fit the Beast’s part, but for the Prince, transformed from that Beast, it fit him perfectly.
That evening we were standing on the balcony of the hotel and enjoying a starry sky.
“Do you know the name of constellation, looking like the Big Dipper?”
“Yeah, it’s the Ursa Major.”
“And do you know where the Minor one is?”
“Over there, the little dipper? And then, further the handle of the Big Dipper is the North Star. It must be very well visible in Alaska.”
Mike was standing behind me and I could feel his warm breath. He gently took me by my shoulder, turned my face to him and hugged me. I clung to his strong body and felt that no one in this world could make us apart. Then he gently kissed me on the forehead, temple, lips.
“You know, lady, I love you...”
Chapter Seventeen
Achic hotel, gourmet food, a tour on the ancient Nile River with a few stops to visit the legendary temples built by the pharaohs of Egypt during thousands of years, extraordinary legends about love, power, and betrayal accompanying each of these temples. These were built in honor of the aspects of the many-sided God of the Sun, Ra, or other gods and pharaohs themselves. There were pyramids where pharaohs were buried together with their wives, servants, and wealth, and the Sphinx, whose nose was first shot off, not by troops of Napoleon as many believe, but by the order some zealot Mamluk in 1380 AD.
A declaration of love in an exotic land. Wasn’t it all like a tale from The Thousand and One Nights?
Hospitable Egyptians were drumming up business, calling us into their shops, treating us to cold or hot hibiscus tea in the hopes that we’d buy something in their stores. In one of these, Mike and I went to get souvenirs for friends before leaving Egypt.
It was December 25. In a distant, unknown world American people were celebrating Christmas. We went shopping for souvenirs. In one of those stores, with millions of beautiful bottles of various shapes and sizes, hundreds of species which had been pressed into fragrant oils, Mike asked, “Polina, can you wait for me here, please? I need to go with the owner of the shop for ten minutes. This is his brother, Mahmed.” Mike introduced me to another dark-skinned man in a long gray galabeya. “He will stay here with you.”
Should tell you honestly, I got so scared that my hands went numb, my head went dizzy, and my stomach felt nauseous! This was it! Tomorrow morning we were supposed to fly home early. Here it was—the price of love. It was a trap for foolish, old, homely women such as me. He brought me here as goods, then he sold me and now was leaving me all alone without money or documents. He would fly away and these men would use me in all possible ways. I’d heard of many such cases.
God, I prayed, what was I supposed to do? Did I yet again get myself into a big mess? One I’d never get out of? He’d had a wonderful time, and now just wanted to get rid of me. Of course he sold me! It was my own fault. I had asked for it myself: “if someone suffers from it then stop it now.” So there it was. Everything would stop. In my head the pictures appeared more and more horrible. Every minute I was expecting Mahmed himself or one of his co-conspirators to seize me, tie me up, or hit me. I stood, rocklike, in the middle of the store, unable to move. I was afraid that there were secret doors, which were plenty in number in pyramids all over this country.
And what did I expect? People told you, “look in the mirror!” I cursed myself up hill and down dale. An idiot! Lived long enough to get gray hair, but still naive as a kid! They say wisdom comes with age. But sometimes age comes alone. That was on the mark for me.
I mustered up my nerve. I had nothing to lose, for he that is born to be hanged shall never be drowned. Mahmed was sitting quietly at the table and drinking his tea. He invited me to join him, but afraid he might put some poison or sleeping pills in it, I refused. He did not insist. Minutes passed. Nothing was happening. I calmed down a bit. And then the shop owner came back with Mike. Happiness streamed from his face.
The shop owner was also smiling, and together with his brother they gave me kind, even admiring looks. Sizing up the situation, I decided never to tell anyone about the horrible ten minutes I’d experienced in the distant, foreign country of Egypt, standing alone in a small perfume shop. In fairy tales, terrible episodes happen also.
Mike came up to me, took my hand, and looked into my eyes.
“Are you cold?” he asked, seeing that I was trembling like an aspen leaf.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Are you sick?” I could hear disturbance in his voice.
How could I think so badly of him? Again I began to curse myself. What else should I have thought? I don’t know this man! It’s really only the third time in my life I’ve seen him.
“I hope not,” I replied. “Shall we?”
“Let’s go.”
We said goodbye to the Egyptian brothers and, hearing their congratulations when we were leaving, I thought that was for Christmas day. Mike kept my hand in his and was squeezing it tight.
“Here we are.”
I looked up and saw Sultan Jewelry Store. He probably wants to buy me some jewelry for Christmas, I thought. Well, perhaps, I should let him do that. After all, it was the third time we had spent some days together.
Chapter Eighteen
Our world is infinitely changeable. I was just suspecting a man of the worst of crimes, human trafficking, and now was ready to accept an expens
ive gift and become obligated to him. But I still didn’t know what destiny had prepared for me by introducing Mike into my life, and what obligation he was going to involve me in.
We went inside. It was a nice jewelry store, not too big, but respectable. Showcases, located on three sides, were shining with cleanliness, gold, and gemstones. Five Egyptian men, apparently salesmen, stood in a row, clapping their hands and shouting, “Welcome,” “Congratulations,” and “Merry Christmas.” I, logically assuming that they were giving us their best wishes for Christmas, thanked and wished them Merry Christmas as well.
“Polina.” Suddenly Mike turned to me. He took my hand and I felt that his hand was slightly trembling.
“Are you also cold?” I asked, jokingly.
He looked straight into my eyes. His expression was serious and he reminded me of that man I saw for the first time a year ago, to whom I opened the door of my apartment, his eyes cold and piercing.
“I want you to try on one ring and choose a second one, too.”
“Two rings? Why two?” I was surprised.
He motioned my eyes to the counter with two rings lying on it. One was big, the second one was smaller. They were wedding rings.
“Oh!”
“I love you, Polina. Will you marry me?”
I froze on the spot. Even in fairy tales people often feel numb, I thought to myself. Suddenly I felt a strong headache and ringing in my ears. My body got stiff and refused to obey my wish that it relax. In just few moments, when I was able to move, I looked around at the men standing in a row. They were crying out, clapping, and laughing. It was obvious they were delighted.
Mike did not move either. He stood in front of me, staring into my eyes. His own eyes expressed suspense, mixed with doubt, and with something very tender as well. Why? I wondered. Why is he looking at me this way?
Something dripped on my hand. Dear heaven, those were tears. My tears, or his?
The men fell silent. Mike was waiting, while I was speechless.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when finally I was able to whisper, “Yes.”
A storm of applause and shouts of joy shook the Sultan Jewelry Store.
Did I say that? I thought, and said aloud, “I’m sorry. I was just not expecting that.”
Tears were still running down my cheeks. I rubbed them off my face together with my make-up. Could you imagine what a beauty I was at that moment? My head was splitting from pain into thousands of pieces, and I had the feeling that I had stepped off a cliff. Directly into the deep unknown.
But Mike looked happy. He kept hugging, kissing, and embracing me.
“Please, Polina, choose one more ring, the engagement ring. Ali will show you where to choose.”
Ali took me to the counter, where I saw many gold rings with little white stones. “So many beautiful rings with zirconium,” I said, as I admired them.
“Can I have this one with three stones? It suits the wedding ring.”
“Of course you can,” Mike smiled somewhat mysteriously. “Now we have to wait until they adjust the size. It will take twenty to thirty minutes. We can stay here or walk around the local shops.”
“Let’s sit down here. This headache is killing me.”
While we were waiting, I calmed down a bit and my sense of humor or something similar to it was coming back.
“Usually when a man proposes to a woman, flowers and champagne are the essential accessories,” I quipped for some reason. Champagne? Why would I say that? Again I was chastising myself. Not long ago you were dying of fear in the perfume shop across the way, thinking that he had sold you into slavery! I was ashamed.
“I promise you champagne this night for dinner. And as for flowers, well, in America, if a man gives vegetables to a woman, then he can do without flowers.”
“Vegetables? I’m lost.”
“It’s simple. Tell me, what measuring units are used for diamonds?”
“Carats.”
And then it hit me.
“Carrots!” I laughed. And then realization hit me one more time.
“So those little white stones were dimonds?”
“Yes. They’re diamonds,” modestly replied my future husband.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mike, for choosing a ring with three stones,” I started making excuses. “I did not know they were diamonds. Can we change to another? No? What a shame.”
“Why change?” Mike surprised. “It’s a very beautiful ring.”
“But it’s too expensive,” I murmured almost inaudibly.
But he still heard me.
“It’s not an overly expensive ring. Take it easy.”
But I couldn’t take it easy, because in my understanding, diamonds were not something that could be “not overly expensive.” But I said nothing else. Suddenly I felt very tired, not to mention the headache was still with me.
Chapter Nineteen
While I was sitting there in silence, Mike told me his plans for the wedding in the Ukraine as soon as we got back there. He wanted me to invite my son and his wife, relatives and friends, who, in his opinion, had become his friends, too.
That evening in the gorgeous restaurant at the Hilton, we celebrated our engagement. Early in the morning, we were sitting in the plane on our way home. Mike had his eyes closed, smiling, and holding my hand, on which a ring with three diamonds was sparkling, while I was thinking about the tricks of fortune.
How did it happen that, in barely half an hour, I’d lived a whole life? From humiliating and deadly fear in that little perfume shop up to the highest degree of happiness in the jewelry store across the road. How did it happen that during this half an hour I changed my principles and agreed to marry a man I didn’t really know? A man I first suspected of betraying me and selling me to the slave trade, and then agreeing to spend with him the rest of my life in sorrow and joy. How did it happen that after living forty-five years of my life in one country, I would be able to see America, and maybe not just her? Oh my heavens, I was really going to leave my homeland, follow this man, and leave everything I had here. My son, grandson, friends, work, the very country itself! Did I trade all these for three little shiny stones?
Chapter Twenty
We returned home for New Year’s Eve. Again, I thought about the tricks of fortune, all the reversals in a period of one year that seemed as long as a lifetime The previous New Year’s Eve I was a miserable, abandoned, hurt, impoverished woman.
Today everything was almost obscenely contrary. I called my son.
“Hi, dear.”
“Hello, Mom.”
“Vova, Mike has proposed to me,” I started right off the bat. “I said yes, but am very scared. Everything, however, can still be canceled.”
“Mom! Come on! That’s great! What are you afraid of? Why cancel? Mike is a good man.”
“How do you know what kind of man he is?”
“I feel it.”
That was true. Vova often “felt” people, especially when he was little. Some people could easily get his trust while others could not, neither for love nor money. When he began talking, sometimes, pointing to some of our guests, which were always in quantity in our home: “This is a good man. And this is a bad woman.” And we also had the opportunity to find out that the kid was always right.
“And even more,” Vova continued, “you are a young woman. You need to have your own life, because if you don’t, you’ll be like many mothers being a royal pain in the neck to their children. In this case, me. Of course, I will try to be a good son, but you know that would not be right.”
I couldn’t but agree with that. Some of my single female friends really could not find a better occupation than to be nuisances to their kids with their advice, illnesses, and problems.
One point for Mike. And an important one.
But I still had my doubts.
“But I’ll have to go to America and leave you here. And little Vanya. Everyone will assume that I’ve betrayed my motherland.”
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“Oh, Mom. Why betrayed? Now the whole world opens its borders. People live where it’s best for them, but not always where they were born. And what do you mean, betrayed? You’re not selling the secrets of our country. You haven’t stolen anything or killed anyone. You’re just arranging your personal life.”
Two points for Mike!
“And me, you’re not abandoning me. I am an adult, a married man, capable of solving my own problems. After all, we do not see each other often, and you can call us from there, too.”
Three points for Mike!
“And what if my life will not be good there and it won’t work out?” I protested weakly.
“If it doesn’t work out, you can always come back. This is not the Soviet Union anymore. Now people are free to move around the world.”
Four points for Mike!
“What are you counting there, Mom?”
“Oh nothing! Thank you, dear.”
So Mike won, and my son brought him the victory. That made me happy.
Chapter Twenty-One
It’s amazing how events can change us and our attitudes about the world. All of a sudden, from not that young a woman, exhausted with life, and constant troubles, you turn into the Queen of the Ball. Your soul is no longer tormented with doubts or any sense of insecurity. It lifts you up to the heavens, together with dreams, enjoying life, laughter, and cheers. Suddenly, how beautiful life is!
The usual room of the restaurant turns into a palace with white marble columns and exquisite dishes of exotic flavors. It is filled with flowers and music. You are surrounded by the crowd of people. They look at you with admiration, and some even with jealousy. Everyone is happy for you and say only nice things to you.
Life itself seems magical, especially if the event is happening on the eve of the old style New Year according to the Julian calendar. Nowadays it falls on January 14. This holiday itself is so incredibly dreamlike, that it intensifies this impression. And why? Because there is one man, the man who is now dancing with you, and looking at you with admiration and love. (His suit was more than necessary for this occasion.) For him also everything has changed overnight. He’s received his prize. He’s been looking for it. And now, finally, he has it in his hands a woman he wanted to become his wife. He looks at her as if she is the greatest treasure of the world.
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