Guardian Angel. 2. 3. Tsunami

"A GUARDIAN ANGEL"
a mistical novel
by Alexandra Kryuchkova

PART II. A DREAMS TRAP

2.3. TSUNAMI

November 1987, Moscow

Everything was drenched in sunshine. Mom and I were at the seashore. It was very calm that day, there were no waves at all, no wind either. The sea was light green-blue. I wandered along the shore, collecting shells. There were few of them there. Mom was somewhere to the right. She looked into the distance, towards the horizon, thinking about something, and periodically turned around to see if I had gone not far from her. There was no one on the shore but us.

Suddenly, I froze from a panic fear coming over me. The fear of what was about to happen. Something very bad and inevitable. My heart was beating quickly. I raised my head, and my pupils dilated from what I saw, I couldn’t move: a huge wave, as high as a multi-storey building, instantly appeared out of nowhere and, collapsing, took me with it into the Void.

«Mummy! Mum-my!» I screamed and… woke up.

I didn’t know what kind of sea it had been. I didn’t know yet what the sea was like and what kind it could be of. But I used to paint it often. In all my pictures, there was the sea. Sometimes, I added a ship and a couple of seagulls so that the sea wasn’t so lonely. True, I hadn’t seen yet seagulls in my life either.

For the first time, I would find myself at sea in February 1995, on the Black Sea on the border with Abkhazia. A storm would come. I would stand on the shore, mesmerized by the raging elements. I would be very scared, but as if bewitched, I would approach the waves as close as possible, freezing in a daze, reflected in the eyes of the Abyss.

Since birth, I had been terrified of water, or rather, of natural reservoirs: rivers, ponds, lakes, seas… Before my father’s death, my parents had tried to teach me to swim in the Moscow River, on Rublevka, near Nikolina Gora, next to our dacha, but in vain. Every time they had taken me into the water away from the bank, I screamed resisting in all ways: pinching and biting, like a small animal that felt the water would kill it. As a result, my mother took me to the pool on Sundays. It wasn’t at all scary to swim in the pool even where there was no bottom under my feet, because the water in the pool was «artificial».


***
January 2011, Moscow


On December 31, having sent everyone of my phone contacts congratulations on the New Year, I remembered the Man in White. I shouldn’t have sent it to him. He had long forgotten about me and it was impossible to step into the same river twice. But on the first day of the New Year, after another call from friends, I heard a phone trill and even without knowing who it was, I felt an inexplicable excitement, «It’s Him…»

«Hello!» thundered in my ears. «You congratulated me on the New Year. I’m very pleased. Congratulations to you, too. But I had problems with my phone. All contacts were lost. Your number was not determined. Who are you?»

I smiled, not without bitterness. He had long forgotten me and had never even thought of keeping my number! But, damn it, it was a good question, «Who are you?» I still didn’t know the answer to it and I replied evading, «It doesn’t matter.»

«So what’s your name?»

«Never mind.»

«Are you uncomfortable talking now?»

«Comfortable,» I exhaled, nervously pacing the room from the door to the balcony and back.

I didn’t know what to say to him. Anyway, I had already said everything. In that poem, which, most likely, remained unread by him. But he was too insisting on giving him my name.

«Alice.»

«Something very familiar. Where did we meet?»

«You made me a job offer.»

He pondered, apparently, sorting through everyone to whom he had ever made such an offer, and wondered, «So why aren’t we together?»

His question disturbed my inner balance. I began trembling. Again, everything was the same — his waves, his force. A terrible force that attracted and repelled at the same time, that made me feel like running away. I was torn again between my two Selves. Who was he?

«I see. You can’t talk now. May I call you later?»

And then, damn it, I remembered that I was going to Syria-Lebanon-Jordan for two weeks. The previous time I had left too, but for the Seychelles.

«I’m leaving,» I breathed it out, looking hopelessly at the sky through the window.

«Me too. When are you back?»

I told him the return date, not hoping that he would call me back, and we said goodbye. He called me back much earlier, before my return. That moment I was crossing the border between Syria and Lebanon, somewhere in the mountains.

«Call me when you are back, Alice. I remember you.»

I came back and had to call him, but I was scared. And what to tell him? What about? Who was he? What did he want from me? Why did he reappear? Well, I really wanted to see him. I was drawn to him like a wave to the rocks in order to crash…

However, the Man in White called me himself, «So when do we meet?»

I was sitting opposite by the window. He was all in white. I was in purple. How old was he? So damn tall and devilishly handsome. It was very cold outside. I tried to warm my hands, I had talked on the phone while walking to his Palace from the metro. I wanted him to sit next to me and warm me up. He suggested switching to talk informally. I nodded. He was smoking. One after another. He was nervous, but didn’t show it. Neither did I. He was talking incessantly. Fast, clear, commanding. Not letting me say a word. With the voice of a man. Sharp as a knife. Tolerant of no objection. Ruthlessly cutting me into pieces. I got scared. He was categorical in his statements. And it seemed that if I took even a step to the left or to the right of what he considered proper — no, not a step, just half a step — he would kill me. He would kill me… He would…

I wanted him to shut up, come up to me, sit nearby and just say, «I like you. I want you to stay.» But he looked at me piercing. Point blank. So everything inside of me shrank. I looked at him in my own way. I saw his aura. Amazing, I had never met a person like that. His chakras, the lower three. They were gushing with energy, just like my top three. We were two triangles, different ones. I missed what he had in abundance. He didn’t have the energy that I had. His energy pierced me through. His inner strength overwhelmed me in waves. I knew that he was stronger and smarter than me. Much stronger. In another. In what I was weak. I thought about what would come afterwards, being scared.

«I need you,» he said, summing up.

I couldn’t utter a word. I needed him for some reason. I would have to go through something with him. It didn’t happen for nothing that repeated twice. I was drawn to him like a wave to the rocks. In order to crash… I wanted to be with him, but I kept silent, being mesmerized by his terrible power.

«I see, you need time to think, Miss Alice,» he said.

I was walking to the subway, torn between my two Selves. The inexplicable panic fear of the Man in White terrified me. Why was I so scared of him? If he was indifferent to me, I would just work for him. If we couldn’t work together, I would leave. He wasn’t a murderer, after all. Everything he offered me, those business trips with him to Italy, I liked very much, work with Italian, almost my native language, was interesting for me by itself. And yes, I liked him. I was drawn to him. Inexplicably. Irrationally. He was the man I had been looking for, for so long.

I had to say «yes», closing my eyes, taking a step towards my fear, to make sure that fear was just a figment of my imagination. I must defeat it, otherwise one day it would defeat me, and…

«Hello, Alice. I’ll call you back a little later, okay?»

He called me back. I wanted to say «yes».

«Hello, Mister Woland,» I said, addressing him as Mister just because I was scared. It was hard for me to say «Woland» to him.

He instantly changed intonation and addressed me to as «Miss». His voice cut me without a knife. He was cold, impassive, cynical, «So what’s your decision?»

Something inside me shrank, clenched. I wasn’t able to say «yes». I would say it later. A terrible, unbearable pause. I wanted him to speak, but he was silent, because he had already told me everything. He wanted it to be my decision. I forced myself to speak. I asked the first thing that had come to my mind, «Why me?»

He started talking, but I couldn’t hear his words anymore. I wanted to scream, «Shut up! Please, say that you just want me somewhere nearby, and I will be there with you.» But he kept talking completely different. Fast, clear, commanding. His voice was the voice of a Man that didn’t tolerate any objections. Ruthlessly cutting me into pieces. He was too categorical in his statements. I was scared. One day he would kill me.

It was time for me to say «yes» to him and…

…and I couldn’t say «yes»! Some part of me screamed, «Alice! Stop! You are driving yourself into a corner you can’t get out of! You are free as a bird. You have Time, you can use as you wish. And you need to finish the book about Another Reality. He’ll take your time. He’ll open all the Doors to the Earthly Reality for you, blocking access to Another. You won’t be able to write anymore. And you need also the money that you earn now. And much more than he offers. You want to say «yes’, just because you see him as a Man. But he’s a wolf, strong and smart. You became a she-wolf, too. Are you sure that you can be what he wants you to be? Constantly giving in to him in everything? Sacrificing yourself? Sharing his principles? You are too accustomed to be yourself, the way you are, aren’t you? You’re also a small, fragile and too vulnerable girl, subtly feeling Another Reality. This Man, what does he know about you? He obviously lives only Earthly. Who did he paint you in his imagination? Can he understand and accept you for who you are? And if this doesn’t happen? Then you will lose everything at once. You’ll lose yourself. Half a step to the left, half a step to the right, and he’ll kill you. He’ll kill you, Alice. Have you already forgotten the pain you went through? How many times have you died already? How many lives have you already lived? Will you find the strength to resurrect again?»

«I can’t talk anymore,» he said. «If any clever thought comes to your mind, call me.»

I left abroad again. That time on a business trip to Venice. When I returned, I got together with my Spirit to dial his number. I called to say «no» to him. He didn’t pick up the phone.

While sailing through the music of the rains,
through shadows and birds at ancient bridges,
I look into the eyes of people — lost,
they walk to death along the streets of Venice.

You are in love with gothic dawn, it keeps
the pain of souls, just torn apart staccato.
It hints the answer, simple and correct,
by breaking clocks of our last sunset.

My dream is intricate. Murano glass has poured
in me a symphony of delicate nuances.
San Marco was asleep, but I was led
to end the fate of dubious romances.

The night was fragile, and the boatman cried out,
«This water brings a tragedy to brides!» But…
the pier hasn’t hidden in the mist,
my bridges haven’t seen us yet together!

Let’s fly into the portal, let’s escape!
Still lulling Life, the waves await us there!
I’ll pass to you my Venice as a gift, —
keep it forever like a thread between us.