Intertwined Fates. Ariana Bazhenova

the real thing. Please call me the next employees to sign…

      He kindly invited me to sit in his office and went off to the lab. I consulted the incoming employees, feeling that every pair of eyes that glanced at me was to my advantage.

      «They are probably curious about who this young girl is, with whom their boss talks for so long, laughs so loudly, and now she is sitting in his chair. They will start discussing. Let it be so, the more attention I attract, the better, I will begin to associate myself with Lev and take my place.»

      Some employees were not there, and we agreed that I would come for the documents tomorrow. I was about to leave when a young, black-haired girl in a turtleneck came up to me. Involuntarily running her gaze over me, she said with poorly concealed irritation:

      – It seems you forgot some documents there.

      I was amused by this reaction, and with an exaggeratedly polite expression I answered:

      – No, everything is fine, they will remain with you for signature until tomorrow.

      The next day, I was already impatiently standing in the endlessly long white corridor from the very morning and pressing the doorbell at the treasured blue door. Usually one of the lab assistants opened the door for me so that the director did not have to run himself. But now the door opened, and Lev stood in front of me, holding some kind of drawing in his hands. Today he was clean-shaven and dressed in a neat white shirt, emphasizing his aristocratically thin facial features and concentrated gaze – there was no trace left of yesterday’s stretched sweater and slight stubble. I wanted to believe that these changes were connected with me, that an exciting desire to please had awakened in him too. Perhaps the reasons were different, but I was unable to give up this romantic illusion.

      «Hello, Leo,» I said barely audibly, as if I was afraid that by calling him by a diminutive form of his name I was crossing the line, but at the same time I wanted to boldly cross it. «I’m going to get some documents.»

      «Yes, of course, here you go,» he eagerly rushed into the office and brought out a folder.

      He handed it to me, hesitating and not in a hurry to let go of it. I looked up, and our gazes met again, lingering on each other. A warm fire flared up all over my body again.

      Frightened that I was looking into his eyes for too long, I quickly snatched the folder and took a step back, pressing my back against the door.

      «Have a nice day,» I nodded at last, then pressed the handle and disappeared into the corridor.

      Finally, the ice between us began to melt! My thoughts were already far away… And yet, do I dare to dream of something more?

      ***

      December 29. I grabbed my suitcase and stepped over the threshold of the airport. A few more hours and I would be in Moscow, together with Kate, my childhood friend.

      My soul was filled with joyful anticipation. We maintained a close connection and were planning to celebrate the New Year together for the eighth year. There was absolute trust and respect between us, friendship over the years made us sisters, withstanding all the storms of conflicts and mistrust with dignity. We were united by a common outlook on the world, humor and memories, and in case of trouble, each of us was ready to lend a shoulder and offer our help.

      The meeting at the airport was noisy and filled with poorly restrained joy. I hugged Kate tightly. We will always have each other. Now here, when we moved to two capitals from Siberia at the same time, we had no one but each other. We vied with each other to share impressions and emotions, standing in the cold and waiting for a taxi home.

      In the morning, I opened my eyes and stretched with pleasure, looking around at Kate sleeping on the neighboring sofa and the modest interior of our shelter with a view from the window of a snow-covered metropolis. Large flakes of snow were falling softly outside the window, and loose snowdrifts had grown on the roofs overnight. In the middle of the room stood a tall artificial fir tree – we still had to decorate it today. Without wasting time, we got up, prepared a simple breakfast and went to the city center for a walk.

      As soon as we left the metro, I felt how I wanted to straighten my shoulders and stretch out, looking up.

      I finally took a deep breath, feeling how much the narrow streets and gloomy low sky of St. Petersburg had been squeezing me all this time. Moscow inspired and carried me away. The monumental grey high-rises of New Arbat rose in a long row, divided on both sides by a wide avenue, at the end of which the ivory-coloured high-rises of Kutuzovskaya and the glass monoliths of Moscow City could be seen. Old Arbat ran parallel to the New one, creating an interesting mix of styles – the light facades of low-rise houses with stucco and the laconic grey of the skyscrapers played in contrast with each other. The trees along the avenues were richly decorated with golden and red balls, people scurried along the spacious sidewalks, and the wide multi-lane roads, like an avalanche, were filled with a dense stream of cars, menacingly approaching and quickly rushing past. Everyone was hurrying somewhere on this sunny day in the scenery of a generously decorated city, the snow crunched under the feet of hundreds of boots, the hubbub of voices was heard, and a general joyful excitement hung in the air.

      Festive joyful jitters, anticipation of a magical night when you can throw off all your worries and leave them in the old year, entering a new period of life, where there will be 365 chances to get closer to your dream. Fluffy snowflakes, bright garlands, soft cinnamon buns and glasses of mulled wine in your hands, heartfelt conversations with Kate, a sea of laughter and smiles. Having moved to St. Petersburg, I was so afraid of being alone on this important holiday, and now, celebrating it with a close friend, I felt that life was welcoming and leading me in the right direction. Kate and I moved quite recently, in the heat of youth we began to conquer big cities – we had immeasurable energy and desires. And a happy life loomed ahead, brighter every day, and so many opportunities! We finished decorating the tree, threw silver tinsel on top, took a glass of champagne in each hand and sat down on the sofa, discussing the latest news for the past six months.

      After a little hesitation, I finally decided to share my joy with Kate.

      – Do you remember how I once told you about Lev? The one I liked and with whom we were assigned to do a project together, but in the end, at our first meeting, he called everything bullshit and laughed at the rector?

      I was inspired and felt my thoughts being entangled in a pink haze. Taking a sip of champagne, I continued.

      – We saw each other the other day. You know, it’s funny, I put on a nice blouse, and he suddenly became so kind to me! He even volunteered to take a test and wished me a good vacation, and he smiled so much… Oh, these men!

      But my friend’s reaction was not at all what I expected.

      – Kir, are you still hoping for something? – Kate asked with a confused smile.

      Her question abruptly cut me off, and I fell silent, unable to find the right words. My cheeks began to burn slightly from awkwardness. Yes, perhaps I shouldn’t have hoped for something, and so enthusiastically told my friend about my games with a married man.

      And how could I have thought that something could work out between us, and his recent warm attitude meant something? Nonsense. Kate is right. We are just working on a project together.

      – I hope? No… It’s just such amazing changes in behavior, I wonder. It’s all psychology, – I smiled conciliatorily, hiding my gaze and feeling my cheeks continue to burn.

      And yet, I didn’t think that Kate and I could ever have misunderstandings. After all, before we shared absolutely all the news with each other.

      I fell silent awkwardly and wilted, feeling the pink haze dissolving. From