***Enchanted City "N"
Part 1 Bridal Cemetery
Chapter 1 Who said running prolongs life?
Monument to him! And flowers for the grave.
Looking sadly at my reflection in the mirror, I sighed heavily. At heart, despite the impeccable appearance, it was lousy. My torment began yesterday: a forced sauna with a bunch of exhausting cosmetic procedures; the last fitting of a wedding dress, the weight of which ached the whole body, as well as an endless session of lectures from experienced relatives. And when I, exhausted from fatigue, fell into a chair with a long groan and looked pitifully at my mother, they sent me to bed. Some unfortunate five hours of oblivion and... everything started all over again. The hairdresser arrived at seven with a large bag of personal equipment. About fifteen minutes later my sister arrived with her friend, a makeup artist, and exactly an hour later two dressmakers arrived with a huge white box in which, as if in a coffin, lay a wedding dress embroidered with pearls.
Accompanied by approving remarks from my relatives, the masters tried to make me worthy of the upcoming celebration. And, I must admit, they practically succeeded. Almost... Despite the perfect makeup, the expression of deep fatigue remained on his face, mixed with complete indifference to what was happening. Having imprisoned me in white “armor”, weighted with cute, in my mother’s opinion, “pebbles” and a long train, the “creators of beauty” applied the finishing touches and, retreating, provided their victim with a mirror. My sister patted me on the shoulder approvingly and winked meaningfully, and our common parent, profusely thanking me for my efforts (which, by the way, had been generously paid a month ago), took all my tormentors, including herself, out of the room. Her farewell “Rest, Zoya” rang in my ears for a long time like a mockery of fate, for rest in my situation is an unaffordable luxury. If not physical, then mental stress certainly did not allow me to relax.
Left in silence and loneliness, I finally realized where my poor life was heading, wrapped in a beautiful wrapper with a festive ribbon. In my last year of school, I still believed that modern marriages are concluded for love, or at least by mutual consent of the newlyweds. But as soon as she became a student, her dear parents enlightened their youngest daughter in detail on this issue, which put an end to her naive fantasies. And the situation was as follows: dad, a successful industrialist and an inimitably charming person, managed not only to unearth an obscenely rich investor outside of our wonderful country, but also to establish a friendship with him, which they soon decided to cement with blood ties, which, in the opinion of both parties, should was to contribute to the prosperity of the joint business. And the foreign uncle’s son turned out to be just the right age and character. Calculating, tenacious... just like his father! The guy, having calculated everything that my family owns now, and the dividends from parental plans in the future, perceived the upcoming wedding as a great deal. And only then did he inquire about the bride’s person, that is, me.
Good boy! Handsome, fit, twenty-seven years old... what’s not every girl’s dream? Even my charming fashion model sister, now on maternity leave, smiled charmingly at him when we were introduced to each other at a family dinner. And, judging by the expression on the groom’s face, he would prefer to see her today in front of the altar, not me. However, I'm not offended. Our Marishka is a beauty: tall, slender, with violet eyes and full lips, the corners of which, unlike mine, are slightly raised by nature. Since childhood, I was considered a family misunderstanding: small, lop-eared, with mouse-colored hair. But our parents loved us both equally and spoiled us to the best of our ability. Choreographic talents, beautiful appearance and charm inherited from my father allowed my sister to have a successful career, get married successfully and live without financial contributions from the “family cauldron”; my life stayed afloat solely thanks to the latter.
Failed entrance exams to Muhu*1 resulted in tuition fees. The scandal with the head of the first summer internship was also settled with the help of money. And the hit pedestrian who jumped out onto the road in front of my car at night was paid so much that he immediately changed his mind about filing a police report, as he was so carried away by the plans to build a new dacha. And most importantly: I was never forbidden from my completely unprestigious hobby for our little brothers, which a year ago resulted in evening work in one of the shelters for homeless animals. They paid pennies, so I sat, roughly speaking, on my parents’ necks and, with varying degrees of success, sucked juice from their wallet. It’s not that I was happy with this, but I continued to live like this without changing anything. And then the day came when the family needed my help, or rather, they needed consent to this marriage, beneficial for both parties. How could I refuse?
The gaze of my gray eyes, slightly blued by contact lenses, slowly slid along the reflection, noting a tall structure of ash-blond hair, skillfully braided with white flowers and thin threads of pearls. An expensive necklace adorned the open neck and décolleté, and the silver-embroidered bodice flowed into a lush cocoon of numerous skirts. Beneath this mass of satin were stockinged legs in excruciatingly high heels. In them, according to my mother, I should have looked decent next to my future husband. For some reason, my small stature always embarrassed her, and stilettos, this female instrument of torture, were entirely her idea.
So... Today I am destined to become a married woman, which will truly please my family for the first time in my life. In a few hours, my fate will change forever, and tomorrow will be what most of my classmates dream about and what makes my hands shake nervously and a sticky chill creep down my back. Honeymoon, family life... horror! Yes, I was afraid. But she skillfully masked her fears, not wanting to upset her family. What does the proverb say? If you endure it, you will fall in love!
Just think, a wedding! The groom is handsome, the ceremony was paid for in hundreds of thousands of euros, there were a lot of guests, and the church for the wedding is located in a fabulous place. It’s small, old, surrounded by intricately winding paths along which white roses grow. In Soviet times, the temple housed some kind of storage or library, but now the building has been restored and is being used for its intended purpose. A real rarity! My mother is very greedy for such unusual places. It’s just in her spirit to kill two birds with one stone: marry Nick and me, and show the guests local attractions.
Our parents agreed to register our marriage in the matchmakers’ homeland, but to get married here. It’s good that the religion coincided, otherwise there would have been more problems. But, fortunately, the groom's family had Russian roots.
The recent tedious parting words, instructions and moralizing made me slightly sick. Or is it from hunger? In the morning, at my mother’s request, I only drank a glass of sweet tea: on an empty stomach, they say, the dress fits better and my waist is narrower. Where else already? Fifty-seven centimeters, wrapped in a corset, and for her, a fan of skinny models, that’s all too much. Having caught a parent running past, I wanted to find out how she managed to persuade the priest to perform the ceremony without a certificate from the registry office, but she just waved it off, muttering: “Not now.” Well, I suppose this issue was settled in the traditional financial way.
The clock was ticking, counting down the last minutes of my freedom. In order not to prolong the “agony” with stupid thoughts, I decided to look at everything as if from the outside. It’s more pleasant and fun this way. It’s not every day that I attend a wedding, and such a gorgeous one at that. Four white limousines had already pulled up to the entrance, followed by a line of smaller cars with ribbons on the mirrors. No ransom or other nonsense. Everything is decorous, secular. The groom is waiting downstairs, and so are the guests. First to church, then to a restaurant, and at the end of the program - my father’s country house with a vast landscaped area, where everything had long been ready for a three-day holiday.
Pf-f-f... well, let's go, or something...
Near the church...
White, like snow flakes on the dark greenery of a bush, and so fragrant...
I studied the roses with sincere admiration, which I liked much more than the people around me. The guests split into groups and held hushed conversations in anticipation of the planned celebration. Friends around... Family friends, not mine. My girlfriends included a couple of classmates who were not averse to having lunch once again at my expense, or rather, at my father’s expense, but out of my pocket. There were also good friends from work, but my mother categorically forbade them to invite them to the wedding. Here it is! Social inequality. No laws could force a well-groomed rich lady to voluntarily sit down at the same table with ordinary veterinary workers, not to mention those employees of the animal shelter who cleaned the bedding and walked the animals. Although an exception was made for me - my mother sat at the same table with me, for which special thanks to her.
- Mmmm... Roses... - My thin brush with an impeccable manicure, which cost me a lot of nerves, and my parents no less a lot of money, itself reached out to the open flower, on the edge of which a big-eyed dragonfly was balancing. “Oh,” escaped the lips when a gust of wind shook the branch, frightening the flyer.
However, she was not the only one who was scared. Jumping to the side, I got tangled in my own skirts and almost fell. For several seconds I searched for a logical explanation for the emerald eyes with which the bush looked appraisingly. Finally it dawned on me that there was nothing otherworldly in this predatory gaze. The plant did not acquire organs of vision, and I did not go crazy. It’s just that some nimble cat managed to arrange a place for summer relaxation among the roses. Just!
“Kitty-kitty,” I smiled, studying the dark silhouette through the lattice of thorny branches. - Hi baby.
The cat's eyes blinked and disappeared into the white-green thickets. And he didn’t make a sound, not a rustle, like a ghost and not a living beast. Was and isn't. Maybe it was my imagination due to lack of sleep? I slowly turned around, intending to join my future relatives, who were animatedly discussing something with my dad. But the first thing I saw in front of me were the same emerald eyes, however, now they were complete with the rest of the animal, calmly sitting on the path.
A black cat with well-groomed shiny fur skeptically examined my bulky attire, gently tapping the stone slabs with its long tail. Of course, I wasn’t delighted with my outfit either, but for some reason the cat’s reaction was annoying. His gaze was somehow too smart. While I was thinking about the atypical behavior of the animal, he smoothly stood up and, waving his tail invitingly, stepped towards the ivy-covered fence. I sighed, realizing that the audience was over, but soon discovered that the four-legged stranger was looking at me expectantly.
“Sorry, I need to visit guests,” she told him. “Soon all this will begin...” Making a vague gesture with my hand and picking up my skirts, I headed towards the church.
The cat returned to the path in one beautiful leap and again blocked my path. Now he looked almost menacing. The eyes, cut by sharp lines of pupils, narrowed, muffling the displeased shine. Deciding that he wanted affection, I spread my arms guiltily - it was difficult to bend over in the pearl-embroidered shell. He continued to sit there, waiting, and I gave up. Under the weight of my wedding attire, my wobbly heels creaked pitifully and buckled. However, to my pride, I not only resisted, but also extended my hand to the cat. And he, a mustachioed pest, dodged, not allowing himself to be touched. Silently gliding through the grass, the animal again headed towards the fence.
- What do you want from me? - I hissed, frowning. - Now you call, then you run away... Go your way, buddy. I'm already having a hard day today.
Having expressed my dissatisfaction to the impudent man, I went to the guests, mentally rejoicing that from such a distance they did not hear my conversations with the silent animal, otherwise they would have decided that the bride had a clouding of her mind due to nervousness. I only managed to walk a few steps before the coal-black beast grew in my path again. He took a fighting stance and, arching his back, showed off snow-white fangs, too impressive for his proportions.
- Come on, br-r-lynx! — I barked, waving the skirt clutched in my hand. - Go for a walk, green-eyed monster! I'm sick of your antics.
The cat, without changing its position, raised its fur.
“Okay,” I sighed, involuntarily thinking about the supernatural warning in the form of this earthly “angel,” whose prickly gaze sent shivers down my spine. - Well, come on, show me what you want?
He took a step towards the fence again and looked at me questioningly.
“Oh gods, is everything really so sad in my future that even animals are against the wedding?” — a sad thought flashed, but the celestials remained deaf to the question, which could not be said about the cat. He kept his narrowed eyes on me and waited... almost patiently.
“Well,” I said, “let’s go see where you’re calling me.” A five-minute walk around the immediate vicinity will not change the weather; mom still hasn’t appeared on the porch, which meant that not everyone (or not everyone) is ready for the ceremony yet. So we had time.
The silent companion nodded in agreement and slid next to him. He moved across the neatly trimmed grass with such ease as if he weighed nothing. This beast didn't scare me, no. I was used to dealing with various emotional manifestations of my charges while working in a shelter. And the cat did not give the impression of being mad, rather demanding and arrogant, which is not uncommon for their species. In front of a narrow gate, he ducked under wrought iron bars intertwined in a simple pattern. Once on the other side of the fence, he turned around.
- Should I go there too, or what? - I asked uncertainly.
When the chiseled face with the fluffy black mustache nodded affirmatively, I felt my knees tremble. Grasping the gate with her hand, she was able to regain her stability, but immediately swayed again, because the iron door moved forward, clearing the passage. The bolt was not closed, so the weight of my body forced the gate open. The cat waited, and I thought about what I had seen. Animals, of course, are smart, but to nod so humanly?! Sharp claws scratched the slabs of the path, and green eyes looked at me defiantly. For some reason I really wanted to turn around and go to where unpleasant, but understandable people were crowding. But instead of this reasonable act, I stepped outside the gate. The landscape spread out in front of me trembled and blurred, like a painting covered in a translucent veil. My body passed through the mysterious haze by inertia, without experiencing any tactile sensations. And then the “fog” cleared...
A disgusting smell filled the nostrils, and before eyes widened with amazement, a large rocky wasteland appeared, behind which were crowded red-brown mountains.
© E. Nikolskaya, 2016
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2016
Any use of the material in this book, in whole or in part, without the permission of the copyright holder is prohibited.
Part 1
Brides Cemetery
Chapter 1
Who said running prolongs life? Monument to him! And flowers for the grave.
Looking sadly at my reflection in the mirror, I sighed heavily. At heart, despite the impeccable appearance, it was lousy. My torment began yesterday: a forced sauna with a bunch of exhausting cosmetic procedures; the last fitting of a wedding dress, the weight of which ached the whole body, as well as an endless session of lectures from experienced relatives. And when I, exhausted from fatigue, fell into a chair with a long groan and looked pitifully at my mother, they sent me to bed. Some unfortunate five hours of oblivion and... everything started all over again. The hairdresser arrived at seven with a large bag of personal equipment. About fifteen minutes later my sister arrived with her friend, a makeup artist, and exactly an hour later two dressmakers arrived with a huge white box in which, as if in a coffin, lay a wedding dress embroidered with pearls.
Accompanied by approving remarks from my relatives, the masters tried to make me worthy of the upcoming celebration. And, I must admit, they practically succeeded. Almost... Despite the perfect makeup, the expression of deep fatigue remained on his face, mixed with complete indifference to what was happening. Having imprisoned me in white “armor”, weighted with cute, in my mother’s opinion, “pebbles” and a long train, the “creators of beauty” applied the finishing touches and, retreating, provided their victim with a mirror. My sister patted me on the shoulder approvingly and winked meaningfully, and our common parent, profusely thanking me for my efforts (which, by the way, had been generously paid a month ago), took all my tormentors, including herself, out of the room. Her farewell “Rest, Zoya” rang in my ears for a long time like a mockery of fate, for rest in my situation is an unaffordable luxury. If not physical, then mental stress certainly did not allow me to relax.
Left in silence and loneliness, I finally realized where my poor life was heading, wrapped in a beautiful wrapper with a festive ribbon. In my last year of school, I still believed that modern marriages are concluded for love, or at least by mutual consent of the newlyweds. But as soon as she became a student, her dear parents enlightened their youngest daughter in detail on this issue, which put an end to her naive fantasies. And the situation was as follows: dad, a successful industrialist and an inimitably charming person, managed not only to unearth an obscenely rich investor outside of our wonderful country, but also to establish a friendship with him, which they soon decided to cement with blood ties, which, in the opinion of both parties, should was to contribute to the prosperity of the joint business. And the foreign uncle’s son turned out to be just the right age and character. Calculating, tenacious... just like his father! The guy, having calculated everything that my family owns now, and the dividends from parental plans in the future, perceived the upcoming wedding as a great deal. And only then did he inquire about the bride’s person, that is, me.
Good boy! Handsome, fit, twenty-seven years old... what’s not every girl’s dream? Even my charming fashion model sister, now on maternity leave, smiled charmingly at him when we were introduced to each other at a family dinner. And, judging by the expression on the groom’s face, he would prefer to see her today in front of the altar, not me. However, I'm not offended. Our Marishka is a beauty: tall, slender, with violet eyes and full lips, the corners of which, unlike mine, are slightly raised by nature. Since childhood, I was considered a family misunderstanding: small, lop-eared, with mouse-colored hair. But our parents loved us both equally and spoiled us to the best of our ability. Choreographic talents, beautiful appearance and charm inherited from my father allowed my sister to have a successful career, get married successfully and live without financial contributions from the “family cauldron”; my life stayed afloat solely thanks to the latter.
Failed entrance exams to Muhu* resulted in tuition fees. The scandal with the head of the first summer internship was also settled with the help of money. And the hit pedestrian who jumped out onto the road in front of my car at night was paid so much that he immediately changed his mind about filing a police report, as he was so carried away by the plans to build a new dacha. And most importantly: I was never forbidden from my completely unprestigious hobby for our little brothers, which a year ago resulted in evening work in one of the shelters for homeless animals. They paid pennies, so I sat, roughly speaking, on my parents’ necks and, with varying degrees of success, sucked juice from their wallet. It’s not that I was happy with this, but I continued to live like this without changing anything. And then the day came when the family needed my help, or rather, they needed consent to this marriage, beneficial for both parties. How could I refuse?
The gaze of my gray eyes, slightly blued by contact lenses, slowly slid along the reflection, noting a tall structure of ash-blond hair, skillfully braided with white flowers and thin threads of pearls. An expensive necklace adorned the open neck and décolleté, and the silver-embroidered bodice flowed into a lush cocoon of numerous skirts. Beneath this mass of satin were stockinged legs in excruciatingly high heels. In them, according to my mother, I should have looked decent next to my future husband. For some reason, my small stature always embarrassed her, and stilettos, this female instrument of torture, were entirely her idea.
So... Today I am destined to become a married woman, which will truly please my family for the first time in my life. In a few hours, my fate will change forever, and tomorrow will be what most of my classmates dream about and what makes my hands shake nervously and a sticky chill creep down my back. Honeymoon, family life... horror! Yes, I was afraid. But she skillfully masked her fears, not wanting to upset her family. What does the proverb say? If you endure it, you will fall in love!
Just think, a wedding! The groom is handsome, the ceremony was paid for in hundreds of thousands of euros, there were a lot of guests, and the church for the wedding is located in a fabulous place. It’s small, old, surrounded by intricately winding paths along which white roses grow. In Soviet times, the temple housed some kind of storage or library, but now the building has been restored and is being used for its intended purpose. A real rarity! My mother is very greedy for such unusual places. It’s just in her spirit to kill two birds with one stone: marry Nick and me, and show the guests local attractions.
Our parents agreed to register our marriage in the matchmakers’ homeland, but to get married here. It’s good that the religion coincided, otherwise there would have been more problems. But, fortunately, the groom's family had Russian roots.
The recent tedious parting words, instructions and moralizing made me slightly sick. Or is it from hunger? In the morning, at my mother’s request, I only drank a glass of sweet tea: on an empty stomach, they say, the dress fits better and my waist is narrower. Where else already? Fifty-seven centimeters, wrapped in a corset, and for her, a fan of skinny models, that’s all too much. Having caught a parent running past, I wanted to find out how she managed to persuade the priest to perform the ceremony without a certificate from the registry office, but she just waved it off, muttering: “Not now.” Well, I suppose this issue was settled in the traditional financial way.
The clock was ticking, counting down the last minutes of my freedom. In order not to prolong the “agony” with stupid thoughts, I decided to look at everything as if from the outside. It’s more pleasant and fun this way. It’s not every day that I attend a wedding, and such a gorgeous one at that. Four white limousines had already pulled up to the entrance, followed by a line of smaller cars with ribbons on the mirrors. No ransom or other nonsense. Everything is decorous, secular. The groom is waiting downstairs, and so are the guests. First to church, then to a restaurant and, at the end of the program, to my father’s country house with a vast landscaped area, where everything had long been ready for a three-day holiday.
Pf-f-f... well, let's go, or something...
Near the church...
White, like snow flakes on the dark greenery of a bush, and so fragrant...
I studied the roses with sincere admiration, which I liked much more than the people around me. The guests split into groups and held hushed conversations in anticipation of the planned celebration. Friends around... Family friends, not mine. My girlfriends included a couple of classmates who were not averse to having lunch once again at my expense, or rather, at my father’s expense, but out of my pocket. There were also good friends from work, but my mother categorically forbade them to invite them to the wedding. Here it is! Social inequality. No laws could force a well-groomed rich lady to voluntarily sit down at the same table with ordinary veterinary workers, not to mention those employees of the animal shelter who cleaned the bedding and walked the animals. Although an exception was made for me - my mother sat at the same table with me, for which special thanks to her.
- Mmmm... Roses... - My thin brush with an impeccable manicure, which cost me a lot of nerves, and my parents no less a lot of money, itself reached out to the open flower, on the edge of which a big-eyed dragonfly was balancing. “Oh,” escaped the lips when a gust of wind shook the branch, frightening the flyer.
However, she was not the only one who was scared. Jumping to the side, I got tangled in my own skirts and almost fell. For several seconds I searched for a logical explanation for the emerald eyes with which the bush looked appraisingly. Finally it dawned on me that there was nothing otherworldly in this predatory gaze. The plant did not acquire organs of vision, and I did not go crazy. It’s just that some nimble cat managed to arrange a place for summer relaxation among the roses. Just!
“Kitty-kitty,” I smiled, studying the dark silhouette through the lattice of thorny branches. - Hi baby.
The cat's eyes blinked and disappeared into the white-green thickets. And he didn’t make a sound, not a rustle, like a ghost and not a living beast. Was and isn't. Maybe it was my imagination due to lack of sleep? I slowly turned around, intending to join my future relatives, who were animatedly discussing something with my dad. But the first thing I saw in front of me were the same emerald eyes, however, now they were complete with the rest of the animal, calmly sitting on the path.
A black cat with well-groomed shiny fur skeptically examined my bulky attire, gently tapping the stone slabs with its long tail. Of course, I wasn’t delighted with my outfit either, but for some reason the cat’s reaction was annoying. His gaze was somehow too smart. While I was thinking about the atypical behavior of the animal, he smoothly stood up and, waving his tail invitingly, stepped towards the ivy-covered fence. I sighed, realizing that the audience was over, but soon discovered that the four-legged stranger was looking at me expectantly.
“Sorry, I need to visit guests,” she told him. “Soon all this will begin...” Making a vague gesture with my hand and picking up my skirts, I headed towards the church.
The cat returned to the path in one beautiful leap and again blocked my path. Now he looked almost menacing. The eyes, cut by sharp lines of pupils, narrowed, muffling the displeased shine. Deciding that he wanted affection, I spread my arms guiltily - it was difficult to bend over in the pearl-embroidered “shell”. He continued to sit there, waiting, and I gave up. Under the weight of my wedding attire, my wobbly heels creaked pitifully and buckled. However, to my pride, I not only resisted, but also extended my hand to the cat. And he, a mustachioed pest, dodged, not allowing himself to be touched. Silently gliding through the grass, the animal again headed towards the fence.
- What do you want from me? – I hissed, frowning. - You call, then you run away... Go your way, buddy. I'm already having a hard day today.
Having expressed my dissatisfaction to the impudent man, I went to the guests, mentally rejoicing that from such a distance they did not hear my conversations with the silent animal, otherwise they would have decided that the bride had a clouding of her mind due to nervousness. I only managed to walk a few steps before the coal-black beast grew in my path again. He took a fighting stance and, arching his back, showed off snow-white fangs, too impressive for his proportions.
- Come on, br-r-lynx! – I barked, waving the skirt clutched in my hand. - Go for a walk, green-eyed monster! I'm sick of your antics.
The cat, without changing its position, raised its fur.
“Okay,” I sighed, involuntarily thinking about the supernatural warning in the form of this earthly “angel,” whose prickly gaze sent shivers down my spine. - Well, come on, show me what you want?
He took a step towards the fence again and looked at me questioningly.
“Oh gods, is everything really so sad in my future that even animals are against the wedding?” - a sad thought flashed through, but the celestials remained deaf to the question, which could not be said about the cat. He kept his narrowed eyes on me and waited... almost patiently.
“Well,” I said, “let’s go see where you’re calling me.” A five-minute walk around the immediate vicinity will not change the weather; mom still hasn’t appeared on the porch, which meant that not everyone (or not everyone) is ready for the ceremony yet. So we had time.
The silent companion nodded in agreement and slid next to him. He moved across the neatly trimmed grass with such ease as if he weighed nothing. This beast didn't scare me, no. I was used to dealing with various emotional manifestations of my charges while working in a shelter. And the cat did not give the impression of being mad, rather demanding and arrogant, which is not uncommon for their species. In front of a narrow gate, he ducked under wrought iron bars intertwined in a simple pattern. Once on the other side of the fence, he turned around.
- Should I go there too, or what? – I asked uncertainly.
When the chiseled face with the fluffy black mustache nodded affirmatively, I felt my knees tremble. Grasping the gate with her hand, she was able to regain her stability, but immediately swayed again, because the iron door moved forward, clearing the passage. The bolt was not closed, so the weight of my body forced the gate open. The cat waited, and I thought about what I had seen. Animals, of course, are smart, but to nod so humanly?! Sharp claws scratched the slabs of the path, and green eyes looked at me defiantly. For some reason I really wanted to turn around and go to where unpleasant, but understandable people were crowding. But instead of this reasonable act, I stepped outside the gate. The landscape spread out in front of me trembled and blurred, like a painting covered in a translucent veil. My body passed through the mysterious haze by inertia, without experiencing any tactile sensations. And then the “fog” cleared...
Eva Nikolskaya
ENCHANTED CITY "N"
Brides Cemetery
Debt good turn deserves another.
And sometimes you have to pay... in kind.
Taking a sad look at myself in the mirror, I sighed heavily. Despite the impeccable appearance, the cats were scratching at my soul. They started tormenting me since yesterday: a forced sauna with a bunch of wild, in my opinion, cosmetic procedures; the last fitting of a custom-made wedding dress, the weight of which ached my joints and ached my back; as well as an endless session of lectures from experienced relatives. When my head, swollen from the incoming information, tired of nodding obediently, bent over to my chest and let out a long groan, they finally took pity on me and let me go to sleep. Some unfortunate five hours of oblivion and... everything started all over again.
The hairdresser arrived at seven with a large box of personal equipment. About fifteen minutes later my sister arrived with her friend, a professional makeup artist, and exactly an hour later two dressmakers arrived with a huge white box in which, as if in a coffin, lay a wedding dress embroidered with pearls.
“Well... it would be better if he stayed there,” flashed through his head, subject to the merciless executions of the visitors who had arrived earlier.
To the approval of my mother and sister, master A of their craft they tried to make me into something worthy of the coming celebration. And they, I must admit, practically succeeded. Almost... Even the perfect layer of light foundation in company with expressive mascara, light translucent shadows and a clearly defined contour of pink lips could not hide the expression of deep fatigue, mixed with complete indifference to what was happening.
Having imprisoned me in white “armor”, weighted with cute, in my mother’s opinion, stones and a long train, the “creators of beauty” applied the finishing touches and, retreating, provided their victim with a mirror. My sister patted me on the shoulder approvingly and winked meaningfully, and our common parent, profusely thanking me for my efforts (which, by the way, had been generously paid a week ago), took all my tormentors out of the room, including her beloved. Her farewell “Rest, Zoya” still rang in my ears like a mockery of fate, for rest in my situation is an unforgivable luxury. If not physical, then mental stress will certainly not allow you to relax.
Left in silence and loneliness, I clearly realized where my poor life was heading, packaged in a beautiful wrapper with a festive ribbon. In the last grade, I still believed that modern marriages are concluded for love, or at least by mutual consent of the newlyweds. However, less than a couple of years passed before our dear parents enlightened their youngest daughter in detail on this issue, refuting what was previously known.
And the situation was as follows: dad - a successful industrialist and an inimitably charming person - managed not only to unearth an obscenely rich investor outside of our wonderful country, but also to establish a friendship with him, which they quickly decided to cement with blood ties, which, in the opinion of both parties, should was to contribute to the prosperity of the joint business. And the foreign uncle’s son turned out to be just the right age and character. Calculating, smart... just like his father, he perceived the upcoming wedding as an excellent deal, having previously studied everything that my family owns, as well as what my parental plans promised in the future. And only then he took an interest in my humble person.
Good boy! Handsome, fit, twenty-seven years old... what’s not every woman’s dream? Even my charming sister, now a fashion model on maternity leave, smiled charmingly at him when we were introduced to each other at a family dinner at my father’s country mansion. And, judging by the expression that appeared on the guy’s face that evening, he would prefer to see her today in front of the altar, rather than me.
Although I’m not offended... Our Marina is a beauty: tall, slender, with violet eyes and a perfect oval face, on which sensual lips bloom like poppies. Well, what about me? Since childhood, I was considered a family misunderstanding. In any case, that’s what my closest relatives jokingly called me. They loved us both and spoiled us to the best of their ability. But if my sister’s choreographic talents, her beautiful appearance and the charm inherited from her father allowed her to have a successful career and a promising marriage without much financial support from the “family cauldron,” then my life stayed afloat solely thanks to the latter.
Failed entrance exams to "Mukha" ended in admission! For a fee, of course. The scandal with the head of the first summer internship was also settled with the help of money. The pedestrian I hit at night was paid so much that he changed his mind about filing a claim; moreover, he even sent me a book with safe driving rules and a parting note on the flyleaf as a gift. And most importantly: I was never forbidden from my completely unprestigious, from the point of view of many, passion for our smaller brothers, which a year ago resulted in evening work in one of the shelters for homeless animals. They paid pennies, so I sat, roughly speaking, on my parents’ necks and, with varying degrees of success, sucked juice from their wallet.
Not that I was happy with it... but I continued to live like this, without changing anything. And then the day came when they needed my help, or rather, consent to this marriage, beneficial for both parties. How could I refuse?
The gaze of my dark gray eyes slowly slid along the reflection, noting a tall structure of long ash-blond hair, skillfully braided with white flowers and thin threads of pearls. The open neck sank into the deep neckline of the embroidered bodice, turning into a lush cocoon of numerous skirts. Beneath this mass of satin were stockinged legs in excruciatingly high heels. With an eleven-centimeter high heel, I had to look decent next to my future husband. For some reason, my small stature always embarrassed my mother, and this instrument of torture placed on me was entirely her idea.
So... Today is the day when I will become a married woman, and for the first time in my life I will truly please my family. Today is the day when my life will change forever, and tomorrow... tomorrow will begin what most of my classmates dream about, and why my fingertips are nervously cold, and an unpleasant shiver spreads throughout my body. Yes, I'm afraid. But I almost always managed to skillfully disguise my fears as excitement and other emotions. And this morning is no exception. Although... as the proverb says, if you endure it, you will fall in love, and that’s not what we experienced. Just think, honeymoon! The groom is handsome, the wedding ceremony costs hundreds of thousands of non-Russian currency, there are already a lot of guests, and the church for the wedding, in general, was chosen in a fabulous place. Small, old, in a quaint environment of fragrant rose bushes, around which tiled paths wind. In Soviet times, there was some kind of storage facility or library there, I don’t know for sure, but now the building has been restored and is being used for its intended purpose. A real rarity! My mother is really averse to such unusual species. She decided to kill two birds with one stone: get us married and show the guests local attractions. But its taste is original: the more ancient and less known, the more expensive it looks, sort of. An antique dealer's approach, as she likes to put it.
The elders agreed to register our marriage in the matchmakers’ homeland, but to get married here. It’s good that the religion coincided, otherwise there would have been more problems. But, fortunately, the groom’s family had Russian roots; his great-grandmother emigrated from our country many decades ago, taking with her all the best that she could take. The best included some transportable things, jewelry, money and... religious beliefs, carefully passed down from generation to generation. So my future mother-in-law, with her mother’s milk, imbibed a strong confidence in which god she should believe in and how. Her loyal husband at the time of their acquaintance was an atheist, but by no means a convinced one, and therefore did not object to accepting his wife’s views. The son, naturally, was raised in accordance with family traditions. They were all true Christians: they attended church every weekend, said a prayer before meals and did not close their eyes without expressing gratitude to the Almighty for their day.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about me, or even about my closest relatives. No, well, of course, we are Orthodox! After all, Prince Vladimir baptized Bright Rus', bringing Christianity to its lands. And, just as religion was not stifled for 73 years, its sprouts sprang up quickly, as soon as fertile soil appeared and the sun loomed on the horizon of “perestroika.” But for some reason I always doubted the depth of our family faith. I have always been interested in the question: why are other religions worse, and why has this one been imposed on me since childhood, depriving me of the right to choose? Mom attended cathedrals as social events, and I suspected that her piety was a tribute to fashion, and not sincere faith. Marinka and her husband generally switched to Judaism, but dad... he, like the groom’s father, was loyal and not whimsical in this matter. They are even somewhat similar to him. This is probably why we became friends so quickly.
Eva Nikolskaya
Enchanted City N
© E. Nikolskaya, 2016
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2016
Any use of the material in this book, in whole or in part, without the permission of the copyright holder is prohibited.
Brides Cemetery
Who said running prolongs life? Monument to him! And flowers for the grave.
Looking sadly at my reflection in the mirror, I sighed heavily. At heart, despite the impeccable appearance, it was lousy. My torment began yesterday: a forced sauna with a bunch of exhausting cosmetic procedures; the last fitting of a wedding dress, the weight of which ached the whole body, as well as an endless session of lectures from experienced relatives. And when I, exhausted from fatigue, fell into a chair with a long groan and looked pitifully at my mother, they sent me to bed. Some unfortunate five hours of oblivion and... everything started all over again. The hairdresser arrived at seven with a large bag of personal equipment. About fifteen minutes later my sister arrived with her friend, a makeup artist, and exactly an hour later two dressmakers arrived with a huge white box in which, as if in a coffin, lay a wedding dress embroidered with pearls.
Accompanied by approving remarks from my relatives, the masters tried to make me worthy of the upcoming celebration. And, I must admit, they practically succeeded. Almost... Despite the perfect makeup, the expression of deep fatigue remained on his face, mixed with complete indifference to what was happening. Having imprisoned me in white “armor”, weighted with cute, in my mother’s opinion, “pebbles” and a long train, the “creators of beauty” applied the finishing touches and, retreating, provided their victim with a mirror. My sister patted me on the shoulder approvingly and winked meaningfully, and our common parent, profusely thanking me for my efforts (which, by the way, had been generously paid a month ago), took all my tormentors, including herself, out of the room. Her farewell “Rest, Zoya” rang in my ears for a long time like a mockery of fate, for rest in my situation is an unaffordable luxury. If not physical, then mental stress certainly did not allow me to relax.
Left in silence and loneliness, I finally realized where my poor life was heading, wrapped in a beautiful wrapper with a festive ribbon. In my last year of school, I still believed that modern marriages are concluded for love, or at least by mutual consent of the newlyweds. But as soon as she became a student, her dear parents enlightened their youngest daughter in detail on this issue, which put an end to her naive fantasies. And the situation was as follows: dad, a successful industrialist and an inimitably charming person, managed not only to unearth an obscenely rich investor outside of our wonderful country, but also to establish a friendship with him, which they soon decided to cement with blood ties, which, in the opinion of both parties, should was to contribute to the prosperity of the joint business. And the foreign uncle’s son turned out to be just the right age and character. Calculating, tenacious... just like his father! The guy, having calculated everything that my family owns now, and the dividends from parental plans in the future, perceived the upcoming wedding as a great deal. And only then did he inquire about the bride’s person, that is, me.
Good boy! Handsome, fit, twenty-seven years old... what’s not every girl’s dream? Even my charming fashion model sister, now on maternity leave, smiled charmingly at him when we were introduced to each other at a family dinner. And, judging by the expression on the groom’s face, he would prefer to see her today in front of the altar, not me. However, I'm not offended. Our Marishka is a beauty: tall, slender, with violet eyes and full lips, the corners of which, unlike mine, are slightly raised by nature. Since childhood, I was considered a family misunderstanding: small, lop-eared, with mouse-colored hair. But our parents loved us both equally and spoiled us to the best of our ability. Choreographic talents, beautiful appearance and charm inherited from my father allowed my sister to have a successful career, get married successfully and live without financial contributions from the “family cauldron”; my life stayed afloat solely thanks to the latter.
Failed entrance exams to Muhu* resulted in tuition fees. The scandal with the head of the first summer internship was also settled with the help of money. And the hit pedestrian who jumped out onto the road in front of my car at night was paid so much that he immediately changed his mind about filing a police report, as he was so carried away by the plans to build a new dacha. And most importantly: I was never forbidden from my completely unprestigious hobby for our little brothers, which a year ago resulted in evening work in one of the shelters for homeless animals. They paid pennies, so I sat, roughly speaking, on my parents’ necks and, with varying degrees of success, sucked juice from their wallet. It’s not that I was happy with this, but I continued to live like this without changing anything. And then the day came when the family needed my help, or rather, they needed consent to this marriage, beneficial for both parties. How could I refuse?
