He is real. A novel. Alisa Roft
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the best are taken first – is true, and there is nothing more than the tricks of the “representatives of another world”. (Long ago we found a common language with the one, of the kind, who was assigned to the role of my mentor, I’ll tell you about others, but first things first).
Once in my empty rented apartment, I threw the bag on the floor in the hallway, took off my dress and threw it over the bag. I took a bottle of whiskey from the refrigerator, filled a shot glass up to the brim, drank and then swallowed a sleeping pill.
Standing under the shower, in a hurry, rubbing my body with a soapy washcloth, strongly pressing it to the skin, I was imagining that I was washing away all the traces from unknown hands, of those strangers who touched me today. I was imagining that the beloved warm big palms were sliding over my clean bare skin… and some time later, when I was in bed, waiting for the effect of the sleeping pill I had taken, once again a cold feeling of anguish swept over me, striking a person who is falling asleep and waking up many times alone. There has always been somebody to fill up the leisure, but making away with loneliness is completely different.
“Everything will be fine,” whispered the quiet voice of my “invisible friend.”
The effect of the pill taken a few minutes ago was not long in coming, my body relaxed, and my thoughts began to fade. I suddenly fell into a common dream (I rarely had them under the pills), saw my mother holding a cup filled with berries on her lap, she was saying how she missed me, with the sad expression fixed on her face, and stroked the sharp knuckles of my fingers with her free hand. Her eyes were so sad that it seemed that tears would flow from them, and then she dissolved, together with the dream that was going away.
My bedroom was filled with darkness; I always deliberately closed the blinds tightly so that the morning light would not wake me up with bright rays of the rising sun. Being only half-awake, I did not realize at once the sensation of the palm, which was still holding my hand. Reflexively I pulled it over, but in response I felt a strong pressure on my hand. And next to me someone was laying – kind of a man, my whole body could sense his presence.
I was paralyzed with horror, holding down my movements. Again I fell into a dream where I clearly understood that everything happening was just a dream, and in order to wake up, you must open your eyes, but my attempts did not bring the proper result. I heard the stranger, breathing intermittently very close in pitch darkness. He squeezed my hand hard, making it impossible to take it back. Fear was replaced by heartache, overflown with despair. This pain was tearing me from the inside, it was impossible to escape from it and it was impossible to stop it. I understood that it was his pain, of that somebody who was present, existing in another world.
Time after time I tried to wake up, but he did not let me go, trying to show me something in a kind of dream. Obviously, I did not understand anything, I was only scared to death. I screamed in a desperate attempt, and it helped me to wake up. I returned to reality.
The shock of the dream vision that I’ve seen made me restless for a long time. Even when I was sitting at the kitchen table and smoking the second cigarette in a row, my fingers holding it were trembling convulsively.
– My friend, do you know who it was? – I said out loud and sighed heavily, still shaking at times.
“Nobody, just a nightmare, never mind,” replied my “invisible friend.” Not all that much, he reassured me.
Noon, I managed to sleep for four hours. But the thought of returning to bed caused a frightening feeling of anxiety. I cautiously went into the bedroom, opened the blinds, found in the closet the things I needed to relax on the beach and went to the sea.
Part 2. Seven days
What is called love in ordinary human language, this passion, awakening from the contact of two personalities, is not only the means by which generations come to the earth. It also creates life in the other world. It is a way of transition from earth to heaven, from material things to spiritual things.
– Annie Besant
Chapter 3
Day one
I got cosy on a sun lounger, in the first row from the sea line, listening to the sound of the waves that were lapping the sandy shore, stretched my arms and put my face to the scorching sunrays and felt how they tickled my cheeks.
A few minutes later it got unbearably hot; I wanted to find myself in refreshing sea water, not yet warmed up before the beginning of the southern summer. Having opened my eyes, I stood up, and saw the figure of a tall guy, with well-developed muscles, he was running by not far from me, along the beach. He was wearing bright shorts, loose and elongated, tightly fitting his bouncy buttocks, and a red T-shirt that was waving in the wind along his broad back. It was hard not to notice that his legs and arms muscles, playing with every movement and glistening in the sun. Having my eyes glued on the perfectly built body that suddenly appeared in front of me, and was so quickly disappearing at a distance, I smiled involuntarily, with admiration.
Surprisingly, the guy turned around, caught sight of my smile, and smiled in response. “Anna, suddenly confused,” quickly turned away and, having forgotten her desire to go into the sea, began to search for a pack of cigarettes with a cigarette lighter in her bag. I told myself – well, okay, in any case, the guy will be glad, to receive some advances. I looked stealthily again in his direction and noticed how he had changed direction and was running back. Towards me. I began to feel somehow embarrassed. Embarrassed? I frowned at the feeling. For a long time I have not experienced “embarrassment” in front of the stronger sex.
The stranger slowed down, dropping into a walk. I had found a pack of cigarettes, but pretended to continue looking for it in the bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed how he was getting closer and closer, shortening the distance between us with confident steps. Once close, he sat down on a nearby lounger. I turned my head to him and met the look of a pair of blue eyes, studying me intently. I tried to hide my interest behind a blank, stern look.
– Hello. Sorry if I disturbed you, I just could not help doing it. – He began to speak Russian powerfully. I liked his pleasant deep voice, he spoke steadily even being a little out of breath. His large, athletic chest was rising and falling, sweat was dripping down his firm shoulders, onto his large sculptured arms, and I really wanted to touch them.
– It is the same as running past the opportunity that destiny gives you, – he finished, and it seems to me that his speech was longer, I just missed a little, focusing on the distinctive features of his sexy body.
– May I invite you? – He suggested, casting a glance at the cafe behind us. I, still not saying a word, began to look at his face, which had a little frowned look because of the scorching sun that hit his eyes.
I would guess his age at about thirty. Expressive masculine features, light stubble on his cheeks, which evenly filled, and slightly smoothed sharp angles of his cheekbones and chin. Thick dark hair, trimmed short, in a sporty style. The look is firm and decisive. But also so kind and open. You can probably endlessly list it on and on finding something noticeable in him, admire it, then find something else, to admire it even more… well, as for me, everything in him fit together.
And then I understood. My silence lingered on. Frozen in a stupor, like an idiot with the most stupid smirk on my face, I was looking at him with frank interest. Even my “invisible friend” was silent and didn’t express his biased opinion.
The guy, on the contrary, was looking at me in temperate manner, expecting my response, without focusing on my slowed down behavior.
– Is your training over? Didn’t you go jogging? – Finally I said.
He