Rianna

I was returning from my lecture trip in Hawaii. The L.A. transfer was delayed and I was sitting on the floor at the airport getting fed up. Waiting for that uncertain announcement is the worse time since you can`t really accomplish anything.

I decided to use this time for observations, starting with the spacious hall filled with noises of arrivals and departures. Then I watched people without noticing anything special – just overexcited families with kids running about, and older couples holding their 50% off tickets.

I started to investigate the gray carpet fabric with multi-color dots I was sitting on, when suddenly, from nowhere, a young woman appeared in front of me and sat on the floor vis-a-vis. I smiled faintly, almost to myself. She surprisingly noticed it and smiled back with the same exact amount of mimic – not more nor less – like a mirror. She was lean and very attractive. Nicely built with small features, medium height like me, cropped curly auburn hair, oval face, full lips, light sparkling eyes. She took a book out of her knapsack and began to read. I sensed some unusual link with her and couldn`t stop staring at the slight movements of her body positioning comfortably against the wall. She looked like the feminine form of my only son.

Finally, the flight was announced and we rose simultaneously.

«Are you going to Boston?» I asked the young woman.

«Yes, I visited my parents in L.A.»

«Were you born there? » I continued while walking with her in line.

«Sure. Now I`m studying at M.I.T.»

«I am a scholar in residence at Harvard – The Bunting Institute.»

«Oh. I take courses on computers. And women`s studies , too.»

«Great! This is why I felt connected with you, I guess. Are you close to you parents?»

«No. They just wanted to show off and asked me to come. They bought a new house and plan to go around the world after renting it out.»

«Sounds adventurous.»
 
«They`re adventurous alright.»

«Aren`t you?»

«In a different manner,» she answered mysteriously.

«We`ll be separated in there minutes by boarding,» I said. Tell me your name.»

«Rianna. It`s East European.»

Our seats were five rows apart. Next to me sat a couple of yuppies – they came at the last moment attached to cellular phones. I couldn`t ask them to move. Rianna had a similar deal squeezed between the window and a family of four. I closed my eyes and kept picturing her expressive gestures when she was talking about her parents whom she loved, I knew, more than she showed. I kept hearing her polite, melodious voice. On the way to the lavatory, after take-off, I passed her my business card with a note: «Let`s talk after the flight in a Boston night club tonight.» She gave me a skinny bookmark with a neatly written address, phone number and a «smiley» with a big «Year!» out of its mouth.

I traveled light, she too… so we didn`t waste time at the baggage claim. We got a shuttle to the city center, changed our clothes – each at her place – and met again, washed and refreshed in a women`s bar we both had heard about. She looked more fragile in her black dress than she was in L.A jeans. I wore a dress also, blue and tight, made out of a flexible silk.

Our foxy waitress brought a glass of Bordeaux to me and a soda to her.

«You don`t drink wine?» I was puzzled.

«I am recovery.»

«Oh, girl. I wouldn`t suggest this bar if I`d have know.»

«Why?It doesn`t bother me. I like the atmosphere here.»

«How old are you Rianna?»

«I am old.»

«You look pretty young.»

«OK – 21, but it doesn`t matter.»

«It`s my song`s age. And you already through some big trouble evidently.

«Your son hasn`t?»

«Alas, he has. Not alcoholism, though. Your generation is facing more problems than any other.»

«There is no exit for us. This is why we are called `generation X.»

«I guess so. Many young people die now,» I responded with sadness.

«Some of them choose this kind of exit willingly. It`s like an epidemic in the US and France.»

«But, I think, it has reached its peak – with the new millennium we`ll go back to hope and well-being.»

Riana smirked.

The music was swallowing our words. «Free – dom, Free-dom» sang the beautiful female models one after another – all in George Michael`s voice. The video screen was covering half of the wall, and models were cat-walking life size towards us, almost naked. Their well-whitened teeth was shining in the dark. We watched them for a while hypnotized.

«Do you wanna dance? – I returned to reality.

«My knee is injured and any strenuous activity is painful for me.»

«How did it happen?»

«I was an ice figure skater, this is how!» – Rianna sounded a little irritated.

«You don’t want to talk about it?»

«Not now. I already repeated this story too many times.»

«You miss the rink?»

«Not only the rink.»
In 3 days, we went to the movies. We watched, «Ma Vie En Rose,» a European film about a boy who wanted to be a girl and marry his best friend. It was a fascinating view told from the standpoint of this young child, about the multioppressions of society, unuseful shrinks, and the purity of first attractions. We both agreed that this movie should be show in schools for basic education.

Rianna was thoughtful and bright. However, something was missing, – she`d suddenly disappear into a black hole. The first time it happened, we were in a Japanese restaurant and I offered to share a few sushies. She withdrew for no evident reason and became tense and uncooperative.

«Are you OK?»

«No.»

«What`s wrong? Do you feel nauseous?»

«I don`t want to talk about it.»

«Rianna, come on. Open up! Let`s plan something before my next trip.»

«I never plan anything.»

«You talk like you don`t like any future.»

«I don`t have a future.»

«Do you want to see me again?»

«Yes. I`ll call you tomorrow.»

Tomorrow she didn`t call. She didn`t call the day after, either. I left message. She left a message. She was in some crisis she said.

I tried to reach Rianna again. Then went on my long journey to Turkey and Russia without hearibg from her. I sent a nice card to her from the road but she didn`t sound happy when she called on my return. She told me that her friend died of a heroin overdose. I invited her for a walk and noticed a change in her. She lost weight and partly her athletic look. The radiance of her skin wasn`t there, nor her polite talk. She slapped me with a few totally unfair accusations. She wanted to get away, maybe with me, as far as possible.

«I need to know, Rianna, what`s is going on.»

«I don`t understand myself what is going on.»

«Do you want to go to a figure skating performance next week? I can get tickets.»

«No, especially not that.»

«Why? Because you were injured?»

«Because after being injured I had a blood transfusion and got AIDS!»

«Hmmm. That`s serious.» I was stunned. I didn`t know what else to say. I realized that I had been distancing myself from the AIDS problem. It was around for years – in some other people`s lives – not mine. I tried to swallow a lump in my throat. Rianna hated my reserved reaction. She was really angry at me.

Then, spending an evening at home, I was thinking about Rianna`s revelation. I felt closer and closer to her while my thoughts were becoming warmer and warmer. Soon I came to the conclusion that we have practically no gap between us. Her generation and mine. Or this gap is vanishing rapidly. Both generations now are exposed to the dangers of death as never before. Rianna had lost more friends to AIDS than I had to so called «natural» causes. There is no more dividing age differences between twenty something and their parents. We go together to the concerts of the Rolling Stones or Grateful Dead. We both listen to Janis Joplin and Led Zeppelin. This is the first time in human history that we experience more connection than animosity.

«And it`s good new`s», I told her, as I shared my thoughts with her on the phone. She finally relaxed and we couldn`t stop joining our ideas about pre-millennium life, calling each other several times a day.

Rianna helped me to understand my son and his discomfort in this world. She confessed that she became promiscuous for a year after «the discovery,» having many bi-sexual – not always safe – short-lived relationships, going from women to men and back.

«I`ve been cynical. Out of despair. Like a total confusion. It wasn`t my choice to get AIDS, but it`s not your choice to be 50, is it?»

«It`s generous of you to say, Rianna, like an offer of a new perspective.»

«I don`t think I`ll live longer than you. Probably shorter.»

«Doesn`t it make us equal? So, let`s live as much as we can, Rianna!»