Emotions Rule. Ira Lav
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in between. She got up and started floating across the room, drawing the curtains to the side, playing with her night gown. She approached the mirror and looked at herself.
There stood a tall, ripe woman. The wrinkles on her face and neck suggested she could be somewhere in her mid-forties. She took great care of her skin with no injections, that were so popular these days, but with masks, massage and facial acupuncture. No one could ever tell her real age. She was barefoot and in her purple satin nightgown. She was slim, fit from swimming and her recent alfa-gravity classes. Hanging on ropes attached to the ceiling did its wonders to her body. She was proud of her looks. Ekaterina winked at her reflection and smiled. Her hair used to be blonde, but now she was dying it blonde to hide the white color of aging. Her besties once nicknamed her Blondie, hence, she should remain so. What if they changed the nickname to White-haired? She would never like to be called so.
‘Maybe I should stop dying it and let it be natural. Why should I hide age changes? Cuz everybody does. But I’m not everybody. Or I am?’ she asked herself roughly touching her strands making them fluffy from tangling. She danced more in front of the mirror seducingly showing off her hips. The aka stripper abruptly stopped and hunched theatrically when she remembered what day it was. The obligation of this day triggered a sudden lump in her chest which was about to ignite Katya’s whole anxiety of the day.
It was her daughter’s birthday. Eighteen years ago Katya decided to tell her birthday girl about her Dad on her eighteen’s birthday. Back then Katya named her Varvara, Varya (same as Barbara, to inject some wilderness into her character, some barbarian nature). Today was the time to let her little birdie fly out from under her mum’s wing and enjoy life and freedom. It was easy to say than to do. Blondie still saw her daughter as her little girl. The girl whom she breastfed, nursed, shared times of illnesses and success, failures and victories, whom she knew so well and would always care about her as she, Ekaterina Mashkova, was simply her mother.
Blondie had spent months thinking about what kind of present to get Varya. Finally, she asked her daughter’s bestie, Lyuda. The latter surely knew what Varya might desire.
‘Well, that’s pretty easy. I know what she really wants. I want it too, but we don’t know if you approve. I asked my parents a long time ago and they said yes. But Varya decided to wait till she entered a university,’ began Lyuda with her long introduction, ‘I hope she won’t kill me for telling you this.’
‘Of course not. It’ll be a surprise. A present she would definitely like, c’mon tell me, Lyuda,’ Blondie pleaded.
‘She wants to go to Cuba to learn how to dance Salsa, to learn Spanish. You know, see the world on her own, well, with me actually. The school years would be behind. We would have a month before we start a university, you know,’ giggled Lyuda nervously repeating herself.
‘You wanna feel freedom,’ finished Katya with a knowing smile. Somewhere deep inside she felt a hidden sadness. Sadness of realizing that her daughter was no longer a child. Sadness of realizing that time was running fast. Sadness of the worries she would experience when her Varya would be far away, on her own in this huge, enormous, big- big world.
Katya was smiling to Lyuda, but inside she was all worry and doubt, thinking, “And why on earth Cuba? Why would they choose Cuba, an island swarming with loose Cuban hot machos? What do they wanna learn about sex what they cannot learn from the innet?”
She recollected herself leaving for an adventure for the first time. She was sixteen when she left her home. She spent a whole summer in England learning a new culture, a new language, new mentality, new way of life with other teenagers from other countries. The beginning was a bit hard as Katya missed her parents and friends a great deal. But later on she made friends and got used to the new environment, so in the end she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to go back home. Later on she prided herself for having so many international friends from all over the world. Katya was welcome now in at least three or four countries to stay over at her friends’ in future. And she understood that she was lucky to have such parents who had trusted her and let her go to broaden her skills, mind and future possibilities.
Now that Blondie was a parent herself it was her turn to play a wise mum no matter how disturbing it could be to let your child move on.
Blondie made herself ready for the new phase. She’d been thinking of this approaching. She’d been remembering herself during her university years. She’d been working with her feelings of a worrying mother. So now she was playing a wise and cool mum answering Lyuda, ‘What a cool idea, same thing I would have wanted for my eighteenth birthday. So when are we booking the salsa course, flight and accommodation for ya, girls, eh?’
Katya looked at the clock, it was ten a.m. The very time when her daughter normally would wake up without no alarm clock set. She made two cups of coffee, placed Varya’s favorite tiramisu cake on a tray, put an eighteen-number candle in the middle, lit the candle and slowly proceeded towards her daughter’s room.
‘Fuck, I forgot the present,’ grumbled Katya, she carefully placed the tray on the floor, opened her purse and fished out a folder with the print-outs of the Cuban trip. She tried to hold the folder and the tray at the same time. It didn’t work. She stood thinking for quite a time: if she placed the folder under her arm, she wouldn’t be able to put down the tray; if she put the folder in her nightgown, the folder might fall down; if she put the folder into her mouth…
‘Jesus, just fetch the damn folder after you’ve put the tray down,’ a voice commanded in her head. Her self-talk was interrupted by her phone buzzing in her purse. She placed the tray on the floor one more time, checked who it was calling und mumbled to herself, ‘Men can wait, even young, attractive sex machines as Sasha.’
She put the phone back into her purse and picked up the tray again. Katya did her best not to flip over the tray while opening the door. She saw her daughter lying awake checking out messages on her phone and began singing Happy Birthday to You song.
As Varya finished reading the message, she sent her phone flying under her pillow and sat up to watch her Mum singing.
‘Thanks, Mum, no dancing or poem reciting this time?’ chuckled Varya.
‘Oh, shut up, Little Monster. It’s my day off, no working routine today,’ Katya disappeared for a second and reappeared with a folder in her hand. She sat down next to Varya.
‘And I have two things to give you on your eighteenth birthday, honey,’ Katya drew a deep sigh, her eyes radiated seriousness and love at the same time, ‘The first one is the truth, which you will need time to digest and the second one is hell freakishly awesome. So… which one you wanna get first?’ she finished with a slightly nervous smile.
‘I don’t think I like the sounding of the first one. Sounds like from the movies. Will you tell me about my Dad? Are these some photos of him you have in this folder or something?’ said Varya playing a detective, ‘Am I right? C’mon, spill it!’ Varya encouraged her mother as she saw that it wasn’t easy for her.
‘Um, well, let’s start with the folder first. This is my present to you, sweet heart! Open it!’ instructed Katya.
The seriousness started to penetrate Varya’s mood too, ‘Alright, let’s see what skeletons you have in your cupboard,’ whispered Varya never stopping playing a foreseer.
As she was studying the papers carefully, the picture of the trip was slowly being visualized in her head. Varya couldn’t but stand up on her bed and yell, ‘Cuuuuuuuuuba, G’od, I am going to see Cuba! Mum, you are the best!’ she jumped on her mother, hugged and kissed her all over.
When the repeating of the word Cuba finally faded in the air, Varya was ready to take up the next present. ‘Ok, Mum, tell me the truth now. I’m not that good a detective this time. You HAVE surprised me. So now, the father story. He’s never died, am I right? Will