Islanders

“One moment.”

“What is it?” she looked back.

“Do you know the rules? Were you warned?”

“The rules? What rules?”

“Of course, that's not a hospital. But we have got rules. During the session all mobile phones must be off.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.” the woman nodded and looked into her handbag.

“It is for your convenience.” the man said. “It is impossible to concentrate when in a pocket there is a mobile phone. It's a temptation, do you agree?”

“A temptation?” the blonde wondered playing with a tiny mobile phone. “I don't understand.”

“You will contact somebody and interrupt us. It means that the confidential atmosphere created with such work will be destroyed.”

“What do you offer?” the woman asked impatiently.

“Put your phone here and shut it off.” and the man added her mobile to six other phones in a box of the desk. He closed the box and said.

“Now you are welcome. “

She opened a massive door and entered.

“Here she is – the last!” exclaimed the man with delight. His sight was condemning.

“Excuse me.” the woman murmured.

The others kept silent. The pretty girl nervously wound a twisted lock on her finger, the man sitting next to her turned away to the window.

“Well? Shall we begin?” asked the man who after the platinum blonde entered the room.

It was a big area in twenty and a half square meters, spacious, not full of furniture. At a window – dense heavy curtain, light not bright. That room was in the dark colors. Everyone felt a light grief of withering and tranquility there.

The low armchairs’ color was hardly dark than the color of the wall-papers. They were transformers. It was possible to change easily a position of an armrest, lower it or, on the contrary making them comfortable. Thus they were not heavy and it was easy to move them without an effort more close to the window or in the center. The blonde had counted eight armchairs. Two were empty. The woman understood that one of the armchairs was hers.

“Here we spend our sessions.” said the man. And he had noticed that the blonde uncertainly looked back, came to her and softly touched her hand. “As you are here for the first time, I would like to introduce you to people.”

He looked at the impatient man and said:

“This is Sergey. Here we avoid surnames and age. We try not to mention an occupation. This theme is forbidden. Your address, the name of the street you live in, the number of your house – all these are not important. Well.”

The man nodded and rose from an armchair saying.

“I am Sergey.”

“Close to him is – Vsevolod.”

The man who had arrived by "BMW" of the third model and who looked like Sergey stood up and said.

“You may call me Seva.”

He had dark sad eyes, very beautiful, big with long eyelashes but the face features were small and his hair rose up in the ridiculous hedgehog even after the skilful hairdresser.

"How old is each?" thought the blonde. She watched them sitting next to.

"May be they are the same age. Both are a little over forty. And they are well familiar with each other".

The man indifferently looking out of the window turned back and with a wide smile said.

“I am Arthur.”

“Glad to meet you.” the platinum blonde smiled in the answer. Among all men in the room, including the owner, he was the youngest and the most handsome. Very handsome! Everybody paid attention to that fact.

“Close to Arthur, on the right – Zhanna.”

The girl nodded. The platinum blonde looked at her with dignity. She was very pretty. The figure was slim, the waist was thin, the legs were long and probably she did not keep on any diets!

How lucky she was! Someone got everything from birth and for someone it was a hard work! To break legs wearing very high heels to seem taller! The blonde felt as her legs began to hurt. She wanted to sit down and smoke.

“And this is Lida.” the owner introduced the nice woman, a bit plump with smoothly combed chestnut hair. She was simple and lovely. Her name was Lydia but shortly Lida.

“No need to be afraid of her." thought the platinum blonde. She was that type of women who always and everywhere fought for the attention of men.

“Close to her – Vera.”

The woman who had arrived by the old car and parked slowly, stood up and nodded. She was the other type of women: the business woman. Not a business-lady or an owner of a company of underwear with her name as a title but the simple worker, who worked all night long so hard that almost hadn't time for the private life. Not the secretary, a rank above. The average rank.

Her clothes were simple but comfortable. Her eyes were red like with the person who a lot of time spent at a computer. As most people she had contact lenses. But eyes looked tired because of them. The platinum blonde noticed everything and greeted her unwillingly. Well, that happened. May be she would look better dressed- up with the make-up …

“Well.” the man looked round.And then addressed to the woman standing at a loss.

“I think you should introduce yourself, shouldn't you?”

“Okay.” she shook her curls and said proudly.

“I am Angelica.”

“Wonderful!” Arthur shouted. “What a nice name! “

“It suits you.” said the kind woman Lida by name.

“Thanks, I want to ask.” the blonde had hushed up. “Are the names real here? I am not sure …”

And she stopped.

“Not necessarily.” the man calmed her. “Here, as at a confession: the main thing is your soul and for God all people are without names. When God gives you life he isn't caring about the name. The man is important. The man who needs help.”