Mission 777 Possible

Like Smoke

Forgive him – for his lack of love,

For all the torment and pain,

His eyes and fair hands —

You’ll remember them in winter time.

Forgive him – for his simplicity,

Of the human soul, so immature;

And for lacking bold impulses —

Like the forceful flow of a man.

Forgive him – for his lack of love,

For his indifference and neglect,

And for your nights’ suffocation,

From your tears, “broken” into blood.

Forgive him – you release him…

Let him be happy and healthy,

And his lack of love – you’ll recognize;

Towards you it will return – as love.

***

He doesn’t give you flowers,

And doesn’t drink in brotherhood;

Without him you’re worn out,

He doesn’t come, doesn’t appear in dreams.

I’ll howl like a wolf,

I’ll pine and drown

In tears, I’ll shatter my sleep,

Like a tightly strung string.

I’ll forget and curse,

All the flowers not given,

That stranger, like the moon’s dream,

And mine, like a dog’s life…

At dawn – dawn burns,

Boundless – without embrace,

Living without him is in vain,

What do you breathe, what do you eat?

He won’t give you flowers,

Won’t come and won’t be here,

In the glowing sky – to freeze,

And disappear, like smoke fades away…

Tourist Agency

It was the best tourist agency in our small town of Semivetrinsk. Everything here was top-notch for her. Marianna, in her fox fur coat, was already sitting in a leather chair across from the agency’s director. Incidentally, the director was also the agency’s only employee.

Bella Alexandrovna, wearing glasses, was like a fairy who would now choose a tour for Marianna, and magic would happen.

“Where are we flying?” asked Bella Alexandrovna.

“Let’s go for a five-star, Egypt, the best one, check the last-minute deals.”

With enthusiasm and inspiration, Bella Alexandrovna searched.

“Got it! Hotel ‘Royal Grand Sharm,’ seven days. Departure on January 7th, for Christmas.”

“Perfect, the sooner, the better.”

“I’m preparing the document package.”

I Choose Hopelessness

I choose hopelessness…

Like sailing without an anchor in the dark;

There is a place on Earth for death,

And there is a place for life on Earth.

My careless choice

Fell on the heavier fate;

With a painful, anxious tear,

With a mad trace that is more important.

I choose the path of separation…

Anxiety, tugging at a lock of hair;

Cold days, with chilled hands,

And faith, to bring back the past.

I choose without excess…

And somewhere a golden dome;

And outside the window, a wreath of cherries,

And a table in a simple room.

I choose a quiet evening…

Instead of pompous bustle,

And a night of freedom, where there are candles,

And the day’s gaping crowd…

At the Airport

The first people Marianna saw upon arriving in Sharm were two girls from Ukraine. One was plump with strange big lips, probably surgically enhanced. The other was a skinny brunette, lively. The girls had clearly come to have fun; they were already flirting and smiling at the Arabs in the airport. They would soon find the nearest bar and start enjoying themselves. It turned out they were staying at the same hotel as Marianna.

First Day in Sharm

Sharm El Sheikh. Evening. The first people I met were a lovely couple: a young girl and a guy. It was strange that they clicked with me, considering I was older than them.

“Let’s go for a walk around the streets of Sharm,” the girl suggested to me.

It was already getting dark, but the streetlights were on, and it didn’t feel scary at all. The evening was wonderful, with a gentle breeze carrying the scent of Egypt with its Arabian spices, perfumes, and the colorful atmosphere of the East.

We stopped at a street café, sat on soft couches at a table. The guy ordered a hookah, and I got coffee. The purple outfit Marianna was wearing reflected a special shade under the lights, adding to the mood. I looked good today.

Eastern music was playing, and a dark-skinned waiter approached the tables, serving food. There was a special tenderness between the girl and the guy, I noticed, and it was pleasant to watch this couple. After a while, they went to dance a slow dance, entwining like two lilies illuminated by the dim, shimmering lights of the café. Marianna admired them. Then the hookah was brought. The guy took a drag and blew out some smoke.

“Try it,” he said to me.

“I’ve never smoked this,” Marianna replied.

“It’s apple-flavored, it’s nice.”

Marianna took a sip of the hookah and coughed.

The young couple laughed. The evening was wonderful. My thoughts were still at home; I had just arrived today and already found myself in a cozy café.

The Guide

There were two guides, she remembered clearly.

One guide met us right away and held a meeting about the excursions. Everyone gathered in a large hall. Marianna remembered that guides often try to sell excursions, and you shouldn’t agree to unnecessary ones.

The guide gestured actively while speaking and spoke Russian well. He said that today you could go to Jerusalem. The trip takes only two days, and you can see the Dead Sea, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the holy places. The journey is very tough, he warned immediately.

At that moment, her phone rang. It was Nikolash calling.

Marianna stepped aside to talk on the phone, no longer listening to the guide.

“Mom, how are you?” Nikolash’s voice asked.

“Son! I’m at the hotel, everything is fine.”

“Did you eat? I left some food in the fridge.”

The connection was poor, and it was hard to hear.

“Son, I’ll call you back, I’m at a meeting with the guide right now.”

Marianna sat down on a chair. Should she go to Jerusalem? But it costs a hundred dollars…

No, I won’t go, maybe later. I’m very tired from the journey and the flight. Perhaps I just won’t be able to endure the tough trip to Jerusalem.

Lucia

Beach. Sharm El Sheikh. How great… just yesterday I was at home, and today I found myself on a beach in Egypt, thought Marianna, sitting on a sunbed and sifting sand through her feet, which were clad in swimming shoes she had bought for three dollars. She was examining them.

This meeting was not accidental. At first, I didn’t notice a certain woman behind me, blonde, with her hair tied back, narrow eyes, and a round face. I turned around and saw her… She smiled slyly, a bit like Mona Lisa, and was peering into her phone while lying on a sunbed. Then she started talking to me, and I, as if under some hypnosis, couldn’t take my eyes off this woman. We found out that she was from Kyiv and a psychologist who consulted her clients. I was interested in everything she said. Psychology, so to speak, from the horse’s mouth. She could talk about lovers, about rich people, my God… how little we know. Her voice seemed to lull me; we walked from the beach along the alley, and I listened to her intently.

“I am a member of the association of psychologists. And now I consult online; I moved away, but my clients still need support.” Marianna looked at the stranger with interest: that’s why she was always on her phone, probably writing to her clients. The woman and Marianna walked along a flower-lined path, passing by a table where an Arab was sorting out rental beach towels. I realized that evening was approaching, and people were leaving the beach.

Marianna and the stranger passed by the pool.

Marianna tried to ask about her own, pressing issue:

“I don’t understand why things are like this with my husband… maybe he’s just sick, or he had a childhood trauma… and things aren’t quite smooth in sex.”

“Many people find lovers here and live wonderfully,” the stranger continued.

“How so?” – asked Marianna.

“One of my patients, a friend, has a regular lover in Egypt, while her husband is a very wealthy man; she comes here and is quite happy; she compensates for what she lacks in marriage. Of course, her husband knows nothing.”

Is it really like that… (thought Marianna).

The stranger finally introduced herself: “Lucia” and, for some reason, also gave her surname – “Lyashinskaya,” laughing and saying, “If you don’t remember, better write it down.” An unusual name, noted Marianna – Lucia.

“I practice transactional analysis,” Lucia mentioned in the conversation.

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s the whole life of a person, from birth to death, the events are interconnected.”

Wow… I would like that too… from the very embryo, and Marianna imagined a person still in the womb, growing up, growing up… I would also like to understand (thought Marianna).

This was not the last meeting with Lucia.

In the evening, Marianna saw her again, and they ended up at the same table.

Evening. A table in a restaurant in Sharm El Sheikh. Lucia is sitting opposite Marianna. There are coffee cups on the table. The festive evening began, drinks were being served, the tables were filling up, and a show with dancing and music was starting on the stage.

“And how did your husband let you go alone?” asked Lucia.

“So what…” Marianna shrugged.

“Lucia, tell me… you’re a psychologist, if someone sends me emojis, they probably feel something for me.”

“Show me…”

Marianna showed the emojis from Alex on Viber:

“Or maybe he doesn’t care at all that I left.”

Lucia smirked:

“He’s just teasing you, laughing at you; send him how you’re spending your time.”

“Here,” she turned and nodded towards a passing Arab with a cocktail in hand, “take a picture of him and send it.”

Marianna looked at the very dark-skinned Arab and smiled.

For some reason, Lucia began to laugh, looking at her phone, then burst into an indecent fit of giggles without stopping:

“Oh, I can’t…,” she continued to laugh and look at her phone.

Who is she laughing at? Marianna thought – can she see everything, read my chat with Alex, and is she reading my thoughts, and am I really ridiculous?

“Yes… and this lover of yours… you can just go to him and take control, you need to take what you want.”

“How is that? What will he think…”

– I have an acquaintance, – continues Lucia, – she has five apartments just in Kyiv, a decent amount of money in her account, and no limits. If she likes someone, she just goes in and takes him.

Marianna imagined this scene in her head: a girl bursts through a door, a handsome guy is sitting on a chair in the room; the girl unzips her fly and sits on him; the guy just looks surprised and submissive. I can’t do that, I have complexes and no apartments in Kyiv. Yes, if you’re rich, then everything else seems trivial, no, more than that: you have the courage to subordinate others, not to be afraid.

– You are also here alone… like me, – Marianna.

– My husband wanted to go skiing, but I wanted to swim and sunbathe. So he went north, I went south, and we’ll meet at home later.

– Aren’t you jealous… I mean, he could find someone there…

Lucia smiles: – If he wants, he can even buy a woman, he is a wealthy man.

Marianna nodded understandingly. Logical… these are open relationships, no one is tied to anyone. There are people who live completely different lives, they are “different”; they spend their time differently and maybe look down on others, because they have a different life, they live differently…

– I like it here: I get up at five in the morning and go swimming, – said Lucia, – This morning I saw such a huge fish, it swam right next to me, can you imagine… In the morning, when no one is around, there are exotic fish, they are not scared by anyone.

– The sea is cold in the morning, – Marianna.

– You’ll find out yourself… when you go, – smiles Lucia: – The sea is warm.

Why would I go to the beach at five in the morning… never in my life…

Then Lucia brought drinks, and it seemed Marianna started to get tipsy. It became insanely fun, Marianna now saw only dancing people and heard cheerful music. Marianna remembered going to the dance floor with those people.

I think I’m getting drunk… There were still flashes of consciousness… I barely drank anything.

– Let’s go! – Lucia. We reached the exit from the dance floor, where the stairs led to the rooms. Lucia had to go down, and I had to go left. We stopped by the stairs.

– Let’s go to my room, continue the fun evening! – Lucia.

Marianna felt that if she didn’t stop now, she would completely lose control.

– Oh… I don’t know, this is probably the end.

– What kind of end… what kind of end do you want? – maybe this one? – Lucia pointed to a small mound of earth nearby, covered with grass.

– No… – Marianna recoiled.

– Come to my room! – Lucia said gently.

– I think I’ll go to my room – Marianna said, as if in a fog.

– Can you make it there yourself? – Lucia asked.

Marianna nodded, turned around, and, trying to walk straight and not fall from the amount she had drunk, headed towards her room. Marianna didn’t remember how she got to her room, or how she got into bed. Her mind was blank…

The next day, Marianna saw Lucia in the lobby, near the reception desk. Lucia was sitting with one arm draped over the back of the sofa and her leg crossed, clearly having noticed Marianna sitting on another sofa.

Marianna approached Lucia:

– Hi.

– Oh… hi, – Lucia smiled, looking deeply into Marianna’s eyes.

– I thought you wouldn’t make it… – Lucia said. Marianna noticed that the look from Lucia’s blue eyes made her insides churn, it felt like fear, as if she was being seen with all her thoughts and insignificant weaknesses.

– You were something else last night…

– What did I do?

– You were wild…

Marianna imagined herself participating in some incredible bacchanal. Oh God… what did I do, it’s embarrassing to say I don’t remember anything.

– Yeah, well… you were amazing, I remember… – and Lucia started laughing.

I must have been crazy last night, I better not ask any more, Marianna thought.

Lucia was scrolling through her phone.

Marianna took out her phone and opened the photo folder:

– Which one do you think I should post on Instagram6, this one or this one? I don’t think I look great in this swimsuit.

– Let me see! – Lucia said, scrolling through the photos and giggling: – Imagine if all your photos ended up on the internet. That happened to me once, everything I had written, all my photos, got posted on social media, just a glitch in the phone, all the information was uploaded. My friends laughed their heads off.

– No way, I don’t want that. There’s so much on my phone… – Marianna said.

It was interesting to talk with Lucia. Marianna didn’t realize it herself, but she was drawn to this woman, and in the evenings or just when entering the restaurant, Marianna would catch sight of Lucia and approach her.

***

Marianna, already in her room, lying on the bed, found the association of psychologists on Google. She scrolled through the names of the members but did not find Lucia’s last name. This must be some kind of secret organization, underground, of course I won’t find this Lucia Lyashinskaya, but I will write down the name on a piece of paper, really, tomorrow I won’t remember with my memory.

In the middle of the night, Marianna woke up several times in a cold sweat, listening to her pounding heart. She would open her eyes, look at her small icon, then at her phone screen, and whisper: – Alex, you are with me, I know, and it will be easier for me…

Doctor Badya

Marianna lingered on the beach. Sharm El Sheikh. As usual, not a single cloud in sight, the Egyptian heat is relentless. She wrapped a pareo around her head like a turban. It felt like her whole body had warmed up under the sun. Time to head back to the hotel, and with the breeze of Sharm, Marianna walked along the asphalt path, the long ruffles of her dress fluttering in the wind. She glanced up at the sea and the sun. Stopping, she looked up at the sun. Marianna felt a burning heat inside, like the fiery lava of the sun was within her, in her chest. What’s happening to me? Everything is fine… even the Kazan icon is nearby, but the lava wouldn’t go away, it was a piece of fiery plasma inside. Marianna pulled out a mirror and looked into her eyes: in her eyes were two blazing hot suns, the same lava that was inside, fire, a crazy all-consuming fire. Marianna was brought back to reality by a voice:

– Do you want a photo… a photo…

– You look great.

It was an Arab photographer; Marianna recognized him.

– No, thank you, – she declined and quickly tried to walk past him, moving further along the path.

She reached the hotel lobby.

I’m trembling… my hands are shaking, everything inside is shaking, I feel awful…

Marianna walked past a table where the guides were sitting. An Arab guide, who was encouraging people to go to Israel, was standing by the table facing Marianna. Another guide was sitting at the table, looking down. What to do… one thought. Marianna quickly approached the guide:

– I feel unwell…

– You look pale, go to the doctor, – and he waved his hand, indicating where to go.

Marianna quickly walked across the parquet floor of the hotel lobby. She spotted the doctor’s office below.

She entered and sat down on a chair, still trembling. In the office was an Arab – Doctor Badya, they said he was from Syria.

The doctor checked her pulse, looking concerned. A nurse was nearby.

Marianna spoke with difficulty:

– This is a phone number, – she pointed to a piece of paper, – if something happens to me… on the paper was written: Nastya, and her phone number.

– Tachyarrhythmia, – Marianna understood among the English words that the doctor was saying to the nurse as he drew medicine from an ampoule.

The doctor gave Marianna an injection in her arm, then rummaged through the shelves, searching for another ampoule, but seemed unable to find the necessary medicine, looking flustered.

– Do you speak English?

– No, – Marianna shook her head.

Oh… it was clear from Doctor Badya’s expression.

Marianna sat on the couch. The fear of death wouldn’t leave her, her legs dangling off the couch.

I’m like deaf and dumb, I can’t understand what he’s saying… (Marianna’s thoughts). The doctor continued to bustle around, checking her pulse every five minutes.

It seems to have eased…

Using a translator, Marianna understood that the doctor told her to come here every day. What is wrong with me… it’s all the Sun…

To Live

The restaurant had an abundance of food, shrimp were being served, meat was roasting on a spit, possibly lamb. I don’t want to eat at all, but I have to force myself. To live, I have to eat something. In the morning, I forced myself to eat an omelet. I sat and chewed, putting piece by piece into my mouth, and told myself: this is necessary to live. Funny… to pay for a seven-day tour in Egypt and not try anything. At least I’m alive.

No You

To hear you,

Where you are not…

The dawn has quietly flared —

A blush of dawn.

You’ll ask: “Where are you wandering?”

I’ll answer in return…

Here you are – seemingly close,

But you are not there…

It’s madness,

It’s a mirage.

You are not there – as if,

My heart is cut out…

Lady in Profile

Egypt. Hotel “Grand Royal”. A being sat on a chair at a café table. It was Marianna. She stared with a doll-like gaze into the distance, beyond the horizon, where the sea is, where the wind begins. Her figure was like a painting. Her dress, her most beautiful dress with roses, clung to her body. Marianna took several photos, or rather asked a girl to photograph her, and she could post them on Facebook7, the pensive lady in profile. If only her Facebook followers knew how she felt… what lay behind her mask-like, ghostly face; if they knew that I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I go to Doctor Badya because I almost died. After posting the photo on Facebook8, Marianna thought: I’m not sure I look good, probably everyone in the city sees me suffering with a very sad face, looking into the distance. But then a comment came in from the mother of my patient: “Dear Marianna Ivanovna! You are very beautiful! Have a good rest!”

Not Love

The tracks are covered this winter evening…

You told me – it’s not love, these meetings of ours.

My head is spinning, what is this?

I don’t want to find words, I believe in something else.

Somewhere,

Sometime,

To be born again!

My head will spin,

I’ll soar like a free bird!

I’m free from shackles!

The taste of love is not needed!

To soar like a bird among dreams,

Love makes everything worse!

Who invented this love?

I want to get drunk!

I’m free from shackles,

I’ll soar like a free bird!

Day of Calls

Marianna is sitting on the veranda of a hotel in Sharm El Sheikh. Her heart is still pounding, and her hands are trembling. She didn’t sleep well again and has no appetite at all. How untimely…

A message from the travel agent in Semivetrinsk on Viber: “How are you? How was the trip and have you settled in?”

She has to respond. With trembling hands, Marianna writes: “Everything is fine, the hotel is good.”

“Enjoy your vacation,” comes the reply. Then a call: it’s from Evgenia. Marianna picks up the phone.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Fine,” Marianna says in a quiet voice. If only they knew how unwell I am here… I feel out of place.

“Have you been anywhere?” Evgenia’s voice comes through. “Go to the Orthodox church there.”

“I don’t know, I’d have to go into the city, maybe take a taxi,” Marianna replies, thinking.

“Bring me something if you go to the church, bring me a cross or an icon.”

“Okay, if I get there.”

“Well, bye, enjoy your vacation.”

Then a message came on Viber from the Chief Administrator at work:

“How’s your vacation?”

“Fine, it’s very hot,” Marianna replies.

“Seek refuge in men.”

In men… what does she mean by that… Though, there are options, maybe it will indeed help…

Mephistopheles and Eros

Sharm El Sheikh.