The Reflection. A Collection of Novels

– “The light. It is alive and warm. Warm. Warm.”

Unbelievable. I hear him loud and clear, as if he’s talking on the phone – no static and interference. I can even hear him breathe,

– “Are you out yet? Simon?”

– “It is yours,” he responded.

– “Mine? What is mine?”

– “You know…”

The last words were lost in the static. I’ve never heard of him again and soon stopped experimenting with EVP, much to the delight of my wife. I want to believe that Simon isn’t lonely anymore. I see the sun in a different way now. While there’s light, there’s hope.

But the story doesn’t end here. After a while, trying to figure out where did the feeling of guilt come from and what do I and Simon have in common, I remembered something I tried to (and almost succeeded) forget. Long time ago, I was having a picnic near a pond. Somewhere in the middle of our feast a boy started drowning in the pond. He desperately flailed his hands; around him were his older friends that could’ve easily pulled him out. But no one did, they only shouted at him. “Swim, stay afloat!” The boy could not possible make it to the shore. He panicked the waters started swallowing him. No use trying to hide it – I was drunk. I did not immediately see the scene. It was April the water was ice cold. But could’ve and should’ve tried to rescue him. Swim to him! Instead I waited for his friends to help. My indecisiveness wasted the precious seconds the boy had. He drowned right before our eyes. Afterwards, I counted seconds, tried to console myself. Said that I couldn’t make it even if I saw it right away.

But the truth is – I could. And did not. Did not do what my cousin did.

After the contact with Simon, I looked into that incident once again. Going back to it was hard. I dug up the details. The boys tried to raft on the pond, but it overturned. That one boy did not know how to swim. Can you guess his name?

Sometimes, I stand in front of the mirror and look the reflection in the eyes. I talk to myself. And to him…

Bee

The married couple of Vladimir and Maria Kretov left the hotel room… I wouldn’t say early. The male half of the couple sure did take his sweet time getting up from bed, bathing and dressing up, as if being late for breakfast was a necessary part of some ritual: everyone was waiting for his entrance with fanfares. Vova cared not for the lost time, for the usual morning hunger (which he surprisingly didn’t have), and especially for his wife’s reproaches and grumbling.

The breakfast itself left no strong impression on him. His eyes looked somewhere beyond the bacon, which was quite “not-bad-at-all” [this is one of words Maria uses to evaluate everything, and it falls somewhere on the middle of the scale. “Super-duper” would be the highest praise possible, while “cheapish” is reserved for the lowest of the low]. Masha explained her husband’s behavior quite simple: he was overworked and tired. Vladimir Kretov was the Head of a bank’s Legal Department and recently, due to the economic difficulties, the bank worker’s bread and butter had very little of the latter on it. Well, that was not unheard of then. Theirs was not the only company in dire straits. The work piled through the roof. Hordes of idiots came pouring from everywhere. There was no shortage of their kind before, but now it could be called a full-blown infestation. The small fries reacted to their bigger Moscow siblings’ battlecries and began spreading all kinds of conflicting, doubling or nonsensical orders. Everyone, even the fools eventually got confused by this state of affairs. The idiots were baffled. How could their orders bring anything but prosperity to the bank and the country? Then they tried to fix the situation, which, of course, consisted of trying to find the scapegoat in the ranks of the non-idiots. The work turned into the struggle to survive, akin to paving your way through the “jungle” with a dull blade. But the “jungle” was getting thicker, darker and scarier.

– “You better eat, since this week we’re spend our days suntanning. The cheaper cafes are far from the shore. I wish we could afford an “all-inclusive”… says Masha.

– “Why would you need to tan the whole day? “Vladimir asks surprised.

– “Don’t you get it, Vova? What will we show the world? We are like the ambassadors of the unlucky ones, coming to the land of pleasure to rest for us, and for them. And the proof of us being here – is the tan. It is our duty to get it. The souvenirs, magic balms, cups and t-shirts come next in the order.”

She blurted this tirade out and continued consuming the pile of exotic fruit on a giant plate,

– “And we need to find out where are the affordable guest-houses. Vera asked us. You remember, she and her dog are coming here in a month. If the dollar exchange rate doesn’t rise, of course.”

Her voice started fading in a sea of restaurant’s noises. Vladimir ate silently and pondered on what was happening to him. He wanted to relax, see the blueness of the sea, embrace its giant vastness and inhale the fresh breeze. But he suddenly felt irritated, as if he had come to a psychological dead-end, as if he had lost this two-week paradise he and Masha longed for every year. She marveled at the sight of the sea, as usual, each time trying to spot something new in the distance. The sea loved to make surprises. Its fundamental nature was to never repeat itself. It can be turquoise, or change its colors from teal near the shore to lilac near the horizon. Or it can look like a scrap quilt – a mosaic of all imaginable colors. And it smells of watermelon, kelp and iodine… It moves forth in a wave, wrinkles with the wind, splashes around like in a bottle, jumps up in places, throws itself in your face; or stays still like glass, graciously sauntering along the shore; or boils and sizzles; or hisses at you like a scary wild beast; or rages on, going berserk like a giant otherworldly blob.

All of this is only a small fraction of its states and moods.

Coming here every day, you notice even its inhabitants change. Today there are near-transparent stinging salpas, tomorrow – all kinds of jellyfish, both big and small. Everywhere you see are some bioluminescent critters, crabs, schools of fish; each different and amazing. The sea lives and breathes. Blessed are those, who can feel its breath. These Chosen Ones are few, far fewer than those that fear and avoid the sea. That’s fine by me. More place for those who like it.

Masha came back from the deep parts excited,

– “You won’t believe this. I saw a crab and this big sand-colored striped fish fight for food.”

– “What kind of food?” he responded listlessly, laying on his side under the parasol His voice was so quiet, it barely reached the wife.

– “For what they had caught, silly. What else they could fight for? Listen, at three we need to go to the Old Town.”

He grumbles something in response, but his wife manages to hear him.

– “No, tomorrow at eight the stores are closed, we need to go.”

Vladimir still hasn’t moved an inch, like a stingray in the shallow waters. Masha discerned his quiet protests again,

– “Come on, get up! What should we buy though? The elephants again? All they do is collect dust. Let’s buy T-shirts for all of them. Whad’ya think?”

Now his voice sounded quiet and clear,

– “Buy me a boomerang.”

– “Are you out of your mind? Where will I find one?”

– “Australia is not that far…”

Clearly being offended by his retort, she left for the sea again. The husband still was motionless under the sunshade, not even trying to look at the sea.

Only on going back to the nice warm water, did she start pondering on the reasons of Vladimir’s gloom. “Oh, I get it now. It’s all Svetka from the Mortgage Division. That bitch. The girls did tell me, but I didn’t believe them. “What are talking about, he loves me so much. No, one should remember – when you get used to each other and know what the spouse will say without them even opening the mouth. That’s when the lovers start to appear. Always looking at him like she wants to give him a BJ or something. Of course, who would resist. Especially when it’s by such a young girl. And those texts, “The office feels empty with you on vacation”… Well, go eff yourself!”

The situation has gotten even worse at night. Their lovemaking turned into another dispute,

– “You’re beating your head on the back of the bed.”

– “No, I’m not.”

– “Yes, you do. The bed is shaking, I hear it. And the neighbors do too. Turn around.”

– “How?”

– “Sideways, how else?”

– “I did, better now?”

– “Ow, wait a moment…”

– “Waiting.”

– “Let’s go again. What’s wrong?”

– “Now you wait, honey…”

– “Shall we start over?”

– “Yeah.”

– “You just don’t want to me anymore.”