Vita Nostra (3 page)

Sasha took off her dress. Stumbling on the gravel, she walked into the high tide. Standing neck-deep in the water, she unhooked her top and crumpled it into a ball. She pulled off the trunks. Holding her swimsuit in her balled fist, she swam out to the buoy.

In the mottled light of the sunrise, the buoy seemed gray, not red. Sasha slapped its iron side. The buoy responded with a dull echo. Sasha looked back at the shore—no one. It was utterly deserted.

She started back. The cold water caused her to shiver again. Barely managing to reach the rocks with her feet, she rose, balancing in the waves, and realized that the ties of her wet swimsuit were hopelessly tangled.

With a short sob, she threw the crumpled ball of faded fabric onto the shore, got on all fours, and half crawled, half ran toward her towel. She wrapped herself and looked around again.

No one. Not a single soul. The sea played with her discarded swimsuit, and the sky was becoming lighter with every minute. Nightingales crooned in the park.

Sasha picked up her bikini, sundress and sandals. She staggered over to the blue changing cabin. She dried herself and suddenly felt well. She straightened her shoulders. Her skin glowed, becoming firm and radiant from the inside, like the skin of a ripe apple. Taking her time, Sasha got dressed, put on her sandals and found the keys in her pocket. She squeezed water out of her swimsuit, walked out of the changing cabin and almost immediately doubled over retching.

She fell on her knees and vomited on the gravel. It was mostly seawater, but along with it, strange yellow disks splashed out of her. Sasha coughed and tried to calm her breathing. The retching disappeared as quickly as it came. Three tarnished gold coins lay on the gravel.

***

At home, she locked herself in the bathroom and studied the coins. Three identical disks, an unfamiliar symbol consisting of rounded interconnecting lines on one side; perhaps a face, or a crown. Or, perhaps, a flower: the longer Sasha stared at it, the more three-dimensional the symbol appeared, as if it slowly rose above the surface of the coin.

She rubbed her eyes. On the reverse side, a smooth oval resembled a zero or the letter O. Of course, there was no stamp of gold content, and Sasha was not exactly an expert on precious metals, but somehow she had no doubt that the coins were made of pure gold.

The first beachgoers appeared on The Street That Leads to the Sea. It was about six in the morning. Sasha stretched on her cot, covered her head with a blanket and squeezed the coins in her fist, thinking hard.

Her throat felt sore, but the nausea had disappeared completely. Of course, one could assume that Sasha’s stomach couldn’t handle yesterday’s baklava, and that the coins were simply lying in the exact place on the gravel where she became sick. And that the man in the dark sunglasses was simply a pervert, who used a very convoluted way of spying on naked girls on the beach. In the dark. In the wee hours of the morning.

She squeezed her irritated eyes shut. No. One could not assume that. Sasha felt removed, thrown out of the normal world into the unreal. If one believed what one read in books, it did happen to people, and happened quite frequently.

Or was it really a dream?

Surprisingly, she fell asleep. And when she woke up, it was a perfectly normal morning of July the twenty-fifth. Mom came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, and gave Sasha a worried look:

“Did you go somewhere?”

“I went for a swim.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Why?” Sasha croaked. “It was really cool. The sun was rising. There was no one in sight.”

“It’s dangerous,” Mom said. “And why didn’t you say something to me?”

Sasha shrugged.

“We should go to the beach,” Mom looked at the clock. “It’s almost nine. Let’s hurry up.”

Sasha sucked in her breath.

“Mom… Do you mind? Can I just lie down for a while? I didn’t sleep well.”

“Are you sick?” Mom touched Sasha’s forehead in a familiar gesture of concern. “No, you don’t feel hot. You are asking for it with your night swimming, it’ll spoil the entire vacation.”

Sasha did not reply. She squeezed the coins so hard the edges bit into her palm.

“I boiled some eggs,” Mom seemed worried. “Mayonnaise is in the fridge. Those lovebirds, the neighbors, ate half of our mayonnaise already, but oh well. What can you do?”

She kept wiping her perfectly dry hands.

“I made plans to meet up with Valentin at the beach; it would be rude not to show up, you know… I promised we’d be there today.”

Sasha thought of yesterday. Valentin was the name of Mom’s new acquaintance, the light-skinned, fair-haired man who seemed so interested in the dolphins. Sasha remembered how Mom introduced her by her full name: “This is Alexandra.” Mom’s voice had a special note of importance, but Sasha did not pay any attention to it yesterday. The dark man rose and left, leaving behind a task to perform—and fear. Sasha felt chilly in the middle of a warm stuffy evening. The flowerbeds smelled sweet, Valentin’s cologne was woodsy and fresh. Sasha remembered the scent, but could not think of his face.

“Sure, go ahead,” Sasha pulled the blanket up to her face. “I’ll just stay in bed for a little, and then I’ll join you guys.”

“We’ll be in the same place,” Mom said quickly. “The eggs are on the table. I’m off.”

She grabbed her beach bag and hurried to the door. At the threshold, she stopped and looked back:

“Don’t forget your swimsuit when you leave. It’s on the balcony, drying off.”

She left.

***

The second time Sasha woke up, the metal clock showed half past eleven. At that time of the day, the sun was scorching, and the sea was boiling with the mass of swimming bodies, like matzo ball soup. It was too late to go to the beach, or maybe it was too early. It depended on one’s point of view. Maybe around four o’clock.

Sasha was shocked by her own mundane thought process. She stared at the coins in her hand. She never loosened her fist in her sleep—the moist skin kept the outline of the round coins. Sasha gingerly moved them from the right hand to the left.

What should she do with them? Throw them away?

The doorbell made her jump. One coin slid off her palm and rolled underneath the cot. Nervous, Sasha found it on the dusty rug, threw on Mom’s cotton housecoat and stepped into the dark hallway.

“Who is it?”

Theoretically, it could be her mother. Or a postman. Or…

“It’s me. Open the door.”

Sasha staggered back.

The apartment was empty—the neighbors were at the beach. The door was locked. A flimsy door, made of pressed wood shavings, covered with cheap faux leather.

The coins stuck to her sweaty palm. Holding them in one hand, Sasha used the other hand to open the door—a difficult task that took a while.

“Good day to you,” the man in mirrored sunglasses stepped over the threshold. “I’ll just be a minute. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

He led the way down the corridor, as if he’s been to this apartment many times before, as if he were its actual owner. Of course, the building was standard enough.

Sasha followed him like a dog on a leash.

“Sit.” The man pushed a chair toward the middle of the kitchen. Sasha fell onto the chair—her legs gave out from under her. The dark man sat down in front of her. “Coins?”

Sasha opened her fist. Three gold disks lay on her red palm, moist, covered with drops of sweat.

“Very good. Keep them. Please retain all of them, all that you will get. Don’t bother with the swimsuit—you must enter the water naked, it’s not dangerous, no one is watching you. Continue swimming, don’t be late and don’t miss any days. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. And the day after that.”

“I’m leaving on August second,” Sasha said, and was surprised by how thin and pitiful her voice sounded. “I…we have train tickets. I don’t live here, I…”

She was convinced that the dark guest would command her to move to this small town forever and ever, and enter the sea at four in the morning in January, and in February, and until death do us part.

“Didn’t I say that I won’t be asking for the impossible?” he stretched his lips slowly, and Sasha realized that he was smiling. “On August second you will go for a swim in the morning as usual, and you can leave after breakfast.”

“I can?”

“You can.” The man got up. “Don’t oversleep.”

He walked over to the door.

“Why do you need this?” Sasha whispered.

There was no answer.

***

“Where are you going?” Mom sat up in bed.

“For a swim.”

“Have you lost your mind? Get back to bed!”

Sasha took a deep breath.

“Mom, I really need to do this. I’m…building character.”

“You’re what?”

“You know, building character! I’m building up stamina. In the mornings… Sorry, I’m late.”

Gasping for air, she stepped onto the beach. Nervously, she looked behind her—not a soul; even the all windows in the nearby hotels were dark. She took off her sundress, pulled off the underwear, threw herself in the water and swam, broad front crawl strokes, as if trying to swim out of her own skin.

She had difficulty breathing. Sasha switched to an easy “beach” breast-stroke, scooping up water with her feet, holding her chin high above the water.

Swimming made her happy. She had no previous experience of skinny-dipping and had no idea how good it felt. Cold water prickled her skin, warmed up her body and warmed up itself. With both hands, Sasha grabbed the buoy and kept still, swaying gently, invisible from the shore.

Perhaps, she didn’t have to go back at all. She could just keep swimming, across the entire sea, toward Turkey….

She flipped onto her back and, lazily moving her arms, swam toward the shore. Sparse morning stars dissolved slowly, like sugar crystals in cold water.

In the changing cabin, Sasha rubbed herself dry with a towel and got dressed. She stepped outside and listened to herself—nothing was happening. She walked toward the beach entrance; the spasms started when she reached the little shack where the lounge chairs were kept under a barn lock. Coughing, sputtering and holding her throat, Sasha vomited four gold coins.

***

On the third morning of swimming exercises, she threw up back in the apartment, in the bathroom. The coins clanked into the iron tub. Sasha gathered them up, her hands shaking—the coins were exactly the same, with a round three-dimensional symbol. Worth zero point zero kopeks. She smirked at her reflection in the mirror, pocketed the coins, washed up and left the bathroom.

Mom was putting her hair up in curlers. There was absolutely no point to it, since the curls would dissipate in the water, but nowadays Mom spent a lot of time on her hair, makeup, and ironing of her outfits.

“Would you mind if Valentin and I go to a café tomorrow night? Just the two of us?”

Mom asked the question, careful to avoid Sasha’s eyes.

“You can go to the movies… What’s playing right now, in that theatre on the wharf?”

“I don’t know.” Sasha fingered the coins in her pocket. “Go ahead. I’ll stay home and read.”

“But what to do about the keys?” Sasha’s compliance clearly took a load off of Mom’s shoulders. “In case I’m late… I don’t want to wake you up. But if I take the keys—what if you want to go for a walk?”

“Take the keys. I’ll read,” Sasha repeated.

“But what about fresh air?”

“I’ll sit outside on the balcony. With a table lamp.”

“But tomorrow, maybe tomorrow you will want to go to a club?”

“No.”

The next day Valentin took them out to lunch. He seemed like a nice person, with a sense of humor, with a certain charm; Sasha watched her Mom’s happiness and counted the days in her head, twenty-seventh, twenty-eighth. Five days remained. Actually, only four, on the fifth day we’re leaving. And it’ll be all over. I’ll forget everything. Only five more times…

She swam on the next morning, and the morning after, and then she overslept.

***

The sun woke her up. The sun beat into the window left ajar, Mom’s bed was empty; the alarm clock twisted from underneath her pillow and lay on the rug.

Refusing to believe, Sasha picked it up. The yellow hand stood on half past three. The coil was disengaged. Why didn’t it ring?

“Mom! Did you touch my alarm clock?”

Mom, content, benevolent, and fresh after her shower, brought in coffee on a tray.

“I did not. It fell down, I didn’t pick it up. I don’t want the landlady to think I broke it. Don’t worry about it, you got practically no sleep in the last few days, and you need rest, you’re on vacation, after all… What is it with you?”

Sasha slumped at the edge of the cot, laden with the firm conviction that something terrible has just happened. Something unidentifiable, inexplicable, threatening with the unknown—and thus, her terror grew in a geometric progression.

***

The dark man stood next to the tourist booth, studying a photo of the Swallow’s Nest. Sasha slowed her step. Mom turned to her.

“Go ahead,” Sasha said. “I’ll catch up.”

Under different circumstances, Mom would argue and start asking questions. But by now, Valentin must have already reserved their lounge chairs; Mom nodded, told Sasha not to dawdle and walked down to the shore.

The asphalt softened under the morning sun. The tires of passing cars and trucks pressed over a puddle of spilled motor oil and left fancy tracks on the road.

“My alarm did not go off,” Sasha said, not knowing what she was apologizing for, and to whom. “It fell…”

His eyes could not be seen through the dark glasses. The lenses reflected nothing, as if they were made of velvet. The dark man was silent.

“My alarm did not go off!”

Sasha burst into tears right there, on the street, from fear, from the unknown, from the emotional strain of the past few days. The passersby turned their heads, staring at the weeping girl. Sasha felt as if she’d dived deep into the sea and was watching a school of pale fish through a thick layer of water.

“It’s very bad, but not terrible,” the man in the dark glasses said finally. “As a matter of fact, it’s even good for you—it’ll teach you some discipline. The second such blunder will cost you a lot more, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”