radicalducati Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Max
Polina isn't answering any of my texts.
I finally got to work on a long pending order. I occasionally glance in the direction of
Polina's portrait. Beaverbrook representatives wanted to buy it for a reason; it is done in a realistic . And although I am usually critical of my work, now it seems to me that the picture will to life, Polina will laugh her pure, gentle laugh and send me a kiss.
At home, I sit down at my Mac and tidy up the pictures - I process them, looking at them in . Some of them turned out so well, as if Polina were right next to me. I look at the photo she is standing in the circle of light of the setting sun, in the halo of its rays. Here you can't her face, but her whole figure is perfectly outlined. On the basis of this picture you can make a beautiful painting. I already imagine what colors I will mix, what palette, what basis this work have. I run my finger along the contour of her figure. I want to create something mind-blowing this image.
I got a text from Dylan, my sparring partner at martial arts training. He invites me to join fun tomorrow. There's some sort of anniversary party planned for tomorrow at the strip club door to the fitness room. I should make a decision and text him back.
I go to bed without waiting for a reply from Polina.
- Max, good morning. Are you back from your run? What do you want for breakfast? -
Emilia is in the kitchen, as usual at this time.
- Hi, Emilia. Just coffee for now. I'll make it myself, don't get distracted, – I went to the to shower and clean up.
I brew a strong cup of coffee, add a pinch of cinnamon and a coriander seed. I wait for the to rise.
I got a text. It's Dylan. Sending a reply.
- Max, what should I make for dinner? - Emilia asked from the kitchen doorway.
- That's okay. I'll have dinner at the club. We're having a party.
- All right. Tomorrow's my day off, I'll bake cupcakes and roast a leg of lamb.
- Yes, Emilia. It's a deal.
I'm going to go visit my grandparents now and then to the studio - I'll work until tonight.
I could relax today, but I want to start working on Polina's portrait in the sunlight. I can see it in my mind, which has become an obsession since last night.
I put on my usual Harley riding clothes, high lace-up boots, grab my gloves and helmet and out the door.
The nightclub is noisy and very crowded. I arrive at the start of the fun. A separate part of hall with a few tables has been allocated for us. About fifty people have gathered - regular and coaches. The party is unofficial, for the third year it has been organized by active , one of whom is the owner of the strip club where we hang out.
By the time I arrive, the atmosphere of fun and debauchery is off the charts.
Dylan greets me and looks me over:
- Are you on a Harley?
-
The Harley’s in the parking lot. I didn’t manage to change, – I explain almost with , shouting over the noise. Dylan pats me on the back:
-
Great, let’s go then!
Tequila, vodka, whiskey flowing. I want to get pumped up tonight. With some tequila, at .
Karina is among those at the table. We say hello with nods. She looks great, in some kind of revealing dress.
I met Karina at the fitness club over two years ago. She was always with her friend. The usually stayed after training to watch the sparring fights and competitions of the club members the tatami room.
One day, it was a little over six months ago, she asked me for a ride home. It all came then. Throughout, she was a good partner, compliant and unobtrusive. We respected each 's personal space, stayed out of forbidden territory, and our schedules always happily . Looking at her now, I clearly realize that we are complete strangers. The best thing us was complete independence. I am truly grateful to her for the past. I hope she doesn't grudges either.
We chat with Dylan and a couple other guys, talk about training plans, and drink tequila. Not food. I'm eating cheese and olive tarts. Violetta, one of the dancers I know from our first , pulls Dylan and me onto the dance floor. I'm too lazy to move, so I just sway with my hands my pockets.
At this time, one of the guys at the table suggests organizing a "who will drink more" . The company divides into two camps - some are against it, the rest chant "tournament- " and beat the rhythm with stacks on the table. I remain neutral and watch this
"confrontation". Finally the "tournament" protesters win this battle and someone offers me to take in the drinking. The terms are simple - it's a speed contest to see who can drink 10 shots of the fastest.
It's hot in the club. I take off my light summer jacket, stripping down to my T-shirt. Karina it and puts it on her lap, smiling at me.
The table is quickly cleared to make room for the tournament site. Ten people are , including me. The tournament "lanes" of shots are ready, with five people on each . Two girls, who took the referee's seats at the end of the table, give the signal. Here we go!
I'm one drink behind the leader. Dean, the strip club owner, wins the competition.
Everybody's having a good time. The first three contestants are honored. For some reason I am for first place, apparently Dean himself, as the owner of the club, wished to pass on the . A private dance will be performed for the first three runners-up.
What, what dance?
I'm starting to feel a little dizzy. Drinking ten shots in less than a minute is no joke to me.
Uh, uh, uh, uh. I have a parish. Mm-hmm. The hall is floating. Faces are blurry. The lighting the club is a mess. Ha ha. That's a lot of purple. It's overwhelming.
Where are you taking me? Oh, right, the private dance.
Where? In a room?
What room?
What kind of sofa is upholstered. The burgundy sofa. What's the pylon in the room for? Is going to spin around in front of me? That close? Booga, booga, booga, booga, booga, booga, it's ride! Is she gonna take off her panties too?
Dylan, man, you're making some shit up...
Who's that? Is she going to dance?! Oh, she's so skinny. And her boobs are big. They're out.
Uh-huh. That's... Wow, wow, they're really falling out. It's nice. It's pretty.
It's a strip.
Oh, baby, don't rub up against me now.
Hold on.
Yeah, that's my finger. Pulling you back. You smell. Delicious. I guess. But. I can't stand the of you. Further, move further away, baby.
What, you don't get it?
You don't have to sit on my lap.
- What? Why-why don't I like it? I don't like it. Yeah, I have a keen sense of smell. Yeah.
Uh-huh. And when I drink. I can smell everything like a dog. Stay away! Yeah, dance over there.
Okay....
Did she get me? Oh yeah...good girl. I'll take a look. From afar. Keep your panties on. Yeah.
Come on, I'll give you a-- Here's for the rubber band. A hundred. Here, some more.
Mm-hmm... the head is like a headache.....
- What's your name?
- How?! P-o-o-l-l-i-n-a-a-a?! No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o. You're not Polina! Yeah, yourself another name, baby...
-
That's my name, – she says in my ear, leaning low toward me. Oh no, I'm going to choke ! Like this... I can touch you with my finger? That's not a caress. I'm f-e-e-l-i-n-g b-a-d...
Well, like this... move away.
-
No, baby, Po-o-l-i-i-i-na-a, she's a different one. She dances other dances... Here’s a-a-a more bucks... And here’s some more... Let me just get out...You look small, but you're not to move. Why are you standing there like a star?
Where's the WC? Huh? Yeah! This way, now, this way... I'm walking almost by feel.
Cold water in your face. On the back of the neck. More. Oh, that's easier. Mm-hmm. pupils ... like after coke... I wish it was coke... tequila makes me so sick.
More water... Here...
Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize someone was by the door.
Uh-oh, Karina!
- Hi! - A blunt smile on my drunken face.
- Hi! How are you feeling?
- It's nothing... As you can see... - hmm... why are you putting your hands on my shoulders?
Oh, Karina, don't do that... The smell of it's gonna make me... Mm-mm-mm-mm.
Door! Stall!
I’m hunched over the toilet, feeling like I’m about to lose it all...
I wash my face and rinse my mouth. Everything is swirling before my eyes and my head is . The alcohol has already seeped into my blood. But at least I’m not feeling nauseous . For that, I’m thankful. That was the last game with shots. Not my thing.
Karina stands against the wall with her back against it. Waiting for me? I have no idea what tell her.
- Oh! You're here?
- How are you?
- That sucks.
- That's not what I meant. The other one, actually. Have you made up your mind?
- Hmmm... With what?
- We can go to my place tonight, if there’s... if you're... determined... - her finger traces a line from my shoulder down my arm. I intercept her hand:
- Karina, thank you for the offer. I've made up my mind. You're a great girl. I'm not gonna , it was great, but it's over.
- Okay, Max. I wish you happiness, – she patted my chest. - Let go of my hand. It hurts.
I unclench my fingers. There's a mark on her wrist.
- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.
She looks at me with her moist eyes.
- I know. If you change your mind, call me. I'll wait. But not for long.
Karina walks away, swaying her hips, and I return to the table as well. The food appears, but looking at it makes me sick. I've had too much to drink.
I pull out my smartphone, check my texts, nothing. I got e-mails. I don't want to look at now, I can't. I go to the dance floor, maybe I'll move around a bit and come to my senses.
At two o'clock we leave the club with Dylan, say our goodbyes and go our separate ways.
First thing I do is take a shower. I drink water. Lots of water.
So I don't waste time going through the mail.
Nothing significant. Just in case, I look in Polina's folder, but I don't have any hope.
Oh! There's an e-mail from her. The subject line is blank. My poor stomach does a and rumbles. Why did I get so drunk tonight? I procrastinate. It's rambling, but the blank line, throws me off. Anything could be in there. I decisively click the line, opening the .
"Hey, Max!
I had problems with my phone, so I'm writing to your e-mail. I hope you are well.
You offered your help in New York. Can you find me a dance studio, preferably modern? I'd to keep taking classes.
I'll be glad to get an email or text from you, to know you're doing well.
Polina.
P.S. We can chat on Skype."
I'm smiling. Smiling? Yeah. That's right.
Somewhere in the chest area, a warmth spills over.
I want to hear her. To see her face. Just to make sure she's as beautiful as she is in my . I sit in front of the monitor, staring at its flickering screen. I reread the few lines she typed.
Nothing special. Just a polite text. A neutral request.
Does she remember me as often as I remember her?
I want to call her. Right now.
I take a big gulp, as if that will dull my desire. Just a few words...
It's almost three o'clock in the morning, which means it's about ten in the morning in Kyiv.
It's Sunday. She likes to wake up early, even on weekends, I remember it well.
I turn on Skype. I text Polina that I'm online.
I dial her. She doesn't answer for a long time, but I call her again. After a couple of minutes, video chat window opens, her face in front of me on the monitor.
- Hi, – I smile at her.
- Hi, – she said, her hair disheveled, smiling through her thirty-two teeth. I want to kiss her . - How are you? It's the middle of the night, why aren't you sleeping?
- I just got back from a party half an hour ago.
- Ahhhh, – her smile fades.
- The fitness club where I work out was celebrating an anniversary. Not an official one. I got , and now I'm doing water therapy, – I show her the bottle.
- How'd you get drunk? I thought you seemed to have a normal tolerance for alcohol - she's close, and so far away.
- I don't drink enough. Thought you noticed. The guys decided to have a quick tequila shot .....
- Uh-oh, – she giggled. - Did you win?
- Practically. I finished second. Overall, I was out of it right away. It's not my thing.
- Yeah? I remember at a club here in Kyiv, you drank a lot of tequila and you were awake.
- I ate a lot, – I said, smiling. - And then you don't know how bad I felt this morning. Tell how you're doing.
- I'm fine. I'll be in the office starting Monday. My project is being coordinated with the head in the States. What about you? Painting?
- Yeah, the usual.
- I guessed you'd gone to your parallel world.
Suddenly another face appears on the monitor. A dark-haired girl with the same huge eyes as
Polina's, but only lighter in color. It looks like they are the same age.
- Hi, Max, – I see fiddling by the camera, I think Polina is pushing it out, but out of my line sight. - My name is Lisa, I'm the sister of this beauty. Oh, wait a minute, – she shrieks, turning to
Polina, then back to me. - You're not angry that I interfered in your conversation, are you? I wanted look at you.
- It's very nice to meet you, Lisa, – I reply.
- Max, you and Polina are talking about the wrong thing. I'm asking you, as the eldest and the wisest. Tell her if you miss her, it would be better, – Liza disappears from my sight,
Polina, laughing, blocking the monitor:
- Max, don't listen to her, please. She's a terrible naughty girl. Ouch! - Polina's face and Lisa's face reappears.
- Max, I'll leave you now! Yeah, wait, – I guess it wasn't for me, but for Polina. - And if you 't talk normally, and I recognize it on my sister's face, I'll fly to New York instead of her. You'll get bored with me, Max. Mwah, – she sends me a kiss, winks, and disappears.
Polina's face is back on the monitor in front of me. Her cheeks are burning, her hair is even disheveled, and she's trying to smooth it out with her hands.
- Don't listen to her. Max, don't listen to her. She likes to make fun of me sometimes.
- Is she really out?
-Yes. She ran to the store to get croissants. She's a bully.
- I miss you, Polina. If she's gone, I can tell you I don't know how I'll live to see you come to
New York.
Her face reflects shock, and she exhales quietly, licking her lips. Finally, Polina breaks the :
- There are so many beautiful women around you. I guess.
- Polina, I guess. I work every day from morning till night. Look, – I show the camera the on which I wear her ring. - You see it?
- I see, – she replies and falls silent.
We're both silent because... We're silent. We're just looking at each other. The pause lingers, neither of us wants to break it.
I admire the features of her face. She's even more beautiful than I remember. How can looks so innocent and seductive at the same time? I intertwine my fingers, keeping myself from to touch her lips, even through the monitor.
Polina, on the contrary, does not restrain herself and extends her hand, apparently touching image in front of her. Finally, she breaks the silence.
- Go to bed, Max. It's after 4:00.
- Tomorrow's Sunday. Lisa's not back yet, is she?
- No, she's not back yet.
- I really want you.
Every day.
All the time.
- And I, uh...
We're still silent for a while. I send an air kiss with my index finger. Polina kisses the air her lips and exits the video chat.
I exhale, rubbing my forehead. When was the last time I was worried about getting a letter a girl?
Before I go to bed, I send her a picture. It's of the two of us. She's leaning back, sitting in my . She's wearing a short safari dress, her exposed long legs, nothing covered. My head rests on shoulder, my palms on her bare thighs.
We were photographed by a passerby in the square near the hotel. It's a surprisingly good . I don't even have to process it.
I don't write anything, I send an email with an attachment with no text.
Now I can go to bed.