Scene One. Meeting at the Port
27 May 1977
Part 1
Two days earlier the school year had ended, and Alice and her mother were finally about to leave to visit friends. At first it had been planned that Laura would go, because their mother was afraid to take Alice on a trip while she had not yet fully recovered. But the older daughter was far more eager to go to a Pioneer camp, where one of her potential suitors was heading. And so Anna, who had fought so hard to obtain permission for a three-month trip abroad for two people, decided that she would take her younger daughter with her, the one who had undergone a difficult heart surgery less than a year before.
The doctors had approved the trip, and Alice herself, after so many years of disability, rejoiced at any chance to feel the fullness of life. She was still one of the shortest girls in her 6-A class (or rather, already 7-A), but she already felt strong and healthy enough.
Several years earlier, during a period when she had been feeling relatively well, she and her mother had visited her father in Grozny. That journey to a region with an unfamiliar warm climate had left a strong impression on Alice, and so she expected no less vivid emotions from the upcoming trip. True, this time they were heading in a completely different direction, to the north.
After turning in front of the mirror in an outfit consisting of a red T-shirt and a short red plaid skirt, Alice concluded that she looked quite presentable for a trip abroad. Laura, who was seeing her mother and sister off, braided Alice’s hair into dragon braids and tied them with red ribbons, making Alice look like a wartime girl. But it suited her immensely.
The ferry ride across the Gulf of Finland was supposed to take only a few hours, so Alice hoped to arrive in the country of the “decaying West” (as they were told at school) looking fresh and blooming.
The journey to Helsinki was indeed short, and before Alice had managed to fully enjoy the voyage by water, she heard from her mother that they would soon arrive. Anna was a little tense, and Alice sensed her anxiety, but did not attach much importance to it, assuming it was caused by the upcoming trip to a foreign country. She knew that Anna had spent many years stubbornly trying to secure a trip to Finland, but she did not particularly wonder why it mattered so much to her.
Anna told her daughter that in Helsinki they would be met by her childhood friend Kajsa, who would take them to her home. Kajsa lived well, so Alice would be able to see how Europeans lived. Alice replied that she already knew everything about the lives of rich people, because she had been to her father’s four-room Stalin-era apartment and had ridden in his white Volga. Anna smiled ironically in response and said that Alice simply had no idea what truly wealthy life was like. In any case, Alice did not care much. She did not feel materially deprived.
As they approached the shore, Anna went to the railing of the ferry and began to peer intently at the group of people waiting on the quay. Alice came up beside her and looked as well. The ferry drew even closer, and a fragile red-haired woman in an elegant dress separated herself from the crowd and began waving joyfully. Beside her stood a fair-haired boy about Alice’s age, or a little older.
Anna stirred slightly and began waving back energetically, then turned to Alice and said:
— That’s Kajsa, the one I told you about.
From afar Kajsa could have passed for a teenage girl, she was so thin and airy, but up close it was clear that she was an adult woman, though one who looked wonderful. But the boy made a far stronger impression on Alice.
— Who is that next to Kajsa? Alice asked her mother.
— Apparently one of her sons. At least he looks exactly like Kajsa’s husband, Anna replied.
While the ferry slowly approached the pier, Alice studied the boy. He looked around with indifference and a hint of laziness, moving smoothly and softly. His face, hair, and skin seemed utterly unique.
The boy was very fair. Snow-white skin combined with very light, almost white hair and pale blue eyes. His facial features were fine and seemed perfectly honed, as if nature had worked on every line with special care. His appearance was classically beautiful, yet at the same time vivid and memorable. And Alice liked it.
When Alice and Anna stepped off the gangway, Kajsa approached them with a radiant smile and, after a brief pause, rang out brightly:
— How glad I am to see you!
She hugged Anna tightly. Behind Kajsa, walking slowly with his hands stuffed into the pockets of trousers that were clearly too big for him, the boy dragged himself along lazily, observing the reunion with a cold, indifferent gaze.
A few seconds later, however, a faint spark of interest flickered in his arrogantly narrowed eyes. Then he shifted his gaze to Alice, tilting his head slightly back, as if assessing her with his colorless, cold, tenacious eyes. Alice felt a little uneasy, but the awkward pause was broken by Anna, who said:
— Meet my younger daughter, Alice.
Kajsa looked at Alice, smiled warmly, and addressed her:
— Hello! I’m Kajsa. Your mother and I went to school together and were very close friends. And this is my son, Manfred.
Kajsa shifted her gaze to the fair-haired boy.
Alice looked at him as well and saw that the left corner of his mouth was mockingly pulled downward, as if he wanted to say, “Ah, well, yes, of course.” But when Kajsa turned toward him, he almost imperceptibly replaced the smirk with a beaming smile.
— Nice to meet you, he replied, in a voice just as clear and ringing as Kajsa’s.
Kajsa bustled about, worrying that Anna and Alice were tired from the journey, and told Manfred to help carry the guests’ suitcases to the car. He lazily picked up two suitcases and, once again casting an appraising glance at Alice from head to toe, carried the load toward the parking area. Alice had not expected such a fragile boy to lift fairly heavy things so easily.
An unpleasant feeling came over Alice. Her initial sympathy for Manfred was replaced by a faint but distinctly uncomfortable sensation. She clearly did not please him. That hurt, and a thought spun in her head: “What did you expect? He’s such a striking beauty, so confident. Boys like that won’t even look at you…”
Kajsa’s car turned out to be very unusual. Neither in her native Tallinn, nor in Grozny, nor in Kyiv, where Alice and her mother often traveled for consultations with Nikolai Amosov, had Alice ever seen cars like this. And at that moment she began to understand what Anna had meant when she said that in Western countries there were things Alice had never seen in her life.
Kajsa sat behind the wheel, Anna took the front passenger seat, and Manfred and Alice were seated in the back. All the way to the house Kajsa and Anna chatted cheerfully, while Alice and Manfred sat in tense silence, periodically throwing distrustful glances at each other.
Part 2
The school year had ended two days ago, and his classmates had scattered to resorts. Outside, the weather was sunny but cool, a May chill that reminded Manfred that this year they were not flying to Grenada because of some stupid friend of his mother who was coming to stay with them for the entire summer.
His mother never had friends… Or rather, her main friend had always been Manfred himself, and her current emotional state puzzled him somewhat. Especially today, when from early morning she had been rushing around the house in a state of euphoria, issuing orders to the servants about preparing rooms for the guests and cooking a festive lunch.
In the morning Chantal came by for Alfred, and they ran off to training at the mountaineering club. Manfred read the newspapers in boredom until Kajsa ran up to him and told him that he had to go with her and help meet the guests. This was the last thing Manfred wanted. Since morning he had been plagued by a feeling of irritation and dissatisfaction that he could not overcome. And now these guests on top of it…
But he thought it over and decided that he should not refuse to help his mother, though he ought to put up a bit of resistance, just to draw her attention to the fact that her good and proper son Alfred had run off with his girlfriend, while he, Manfred, was the one who remained her closest helper.
Overcoming his displeasure, Manfred pulled on a slightly rumpled shirt and trousers that had been bought for him to grow into. With his untidy appearance he wanted to emphasize his mood and evoke in his mother a barely perceptible sense of guilt for exploiting him, a twelve-year-old child, in this way.
When Kajsa saw her son’s outfit, she wanted to personally pick out something more decent for him, but since time was pressing, she had to close her eyes to his inappropriate appearance. All the way to the port Manfred drifted in and out of a light half-doze, or stared indifferently at the swaying branches of the trees lining the highway. The atmosphere itself seemed thick and viscous in its dull monotony.
Waiting for the ferry was just as uninteresting. The enormous structure slowly approached, and then, as if in a dream, people descended the gangway at an unhurried pace. After that Kajsa ran joyfully toward a fair-haired woman who had separated herself from the crowd. Manfred followed his mother unwillingly and, as he came closer to the guests, felt a strange weakness in his legs and a tight knot in his stomach.
Before him stood an utterly incredible girl. Against the backdrop of colorless Scandinavian women, she stood out with her beautiful olive skin and thick dark chestnut hair. What impressed him most were her huge, expressive dark chocolate eyes. The girl’s direct, open, and bold gaze evoked in Manfred a mixed feeling of admiration and fear. Admiration for the inner strength he so lacked himself, and fear of his own inability to stand on equal footing with such a person.
The constant discomfort Manfred felt in the presence of people like this now became especially acute. Awareness of his own inadequacy, worthlessness, and unworthiness stirred a desire to hide somewhere and admire this miracle from a secluded place, but that was impossible.
Trying to conceal his emotions, Manfred narrowed his eyes slightly, attempting to appear maximally indifferent and to drive away the thought that such a girl would never even look at him.
But as soon as Manfred had mastered one emotion, another surged in, forcing him to regain his shaken balance. Kajsa threw her arms around the blonde woman’s neck, and Manfred understood everything.
His thoughts returned to 1972, to that evening when all the residents and guests of Caribbean Grenada were celebrating Harvest Day, indulging in dancing and some mad, primitive revelry. Back then he, a seven-year-old boy, had slipped out of his bedroom. He could not miss the chance to watch what was happening, especially knowing that his mother had gone to the celebration wearing her finest clothes.
Seeing his mother’s skirt disappear into the darkness of a gazebo behind the dance floor, Manfred silently circled the structure from the other side and peered inside. His mother, in a state of some strange euphoria, was sitting on the lap of a local ominous shamaness, a large Black woman who lived in the wild part of the island and was known by the nickname the She-Devil, and was passionately kissing her.
At that moment, many things fell into place for Manfred. Watching his parents, he had felt that there was no spark between them, no emotion capable of sweeping one off one’s feet. Or rather, it existed only on his father’s side. His mother always took care of his father and was a good wife, but felt nothing toward him beyond gratitude.
Manfred knew that if he shared these observations with anyone, he would not be believed. His parents seemed such a happy, loving couple. But Manfred had always seen what lay behind this outward well-being. And he wondered how Alfred and Kristina could notice absolutely nothing.
Between his mother and the She-Devil there had been no spark of love, but there had certainly been passion. A passion his mother did not have for his father. And then Manfred understood that Kajsa loved women.
Watching her, observing the nature of her relationships with women, Manfred guessed that somewhere in the world there was that one person whom his mother truly loved. He sometimes tried gently to test the waters and find out whom his mother had feelings for, but seeing the inner tension that arose in Kajsa during such conversations, Manfred retreated.
Now he knew who it was. One embrace, one crossing of glances between Anna and Kajsa was enough to understand everything that had existed between them. The feeling Manfred experienced at that moment resembled a sharp awakening after a long and exhausting hibernation. The day had definitely ceased to be boring and filled itself with emotions.
Manfred was literally torn between the desire to observe every glance and gesture of this pair and the desire to admire the wonderful girl who had simply struck his imagination.
On the way home Manfred sat in the back seat beside Alice and did his utmost to appear indifferent, not to look at her, though his gaze kept sliding sideways. It seemed to him that throughout the car one could hear his heart pounding and throbbing in his temples. And yet he had not experienced such a surge of intoxicating emotions in a long time. And it was madly interesting to see how events would unfold next.
