Part One – There
(Eastern Hemisphere)
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE – OUR COMPANY. SEEING OFF SASHA
So, changes in the life of the country resulted in the departure of my closest friend. Sounds kind of strange, doesn’t it? But hasn’t the most perspicacious and adventurous people throughout the history of the USSR tried to leave an unstable country? Somewhere there, in the depths of social life, invisible and sometimes incomprehensible changes were taking place, which not only immediately, but also after many years, were reflected in the fate of “individual” thousands, or even millions of people.
Sasha fitted for this definition quite well. Recent years have shown the hidden influence of some events on others: he was not accepted into Moscow State University and he rose from the republican level straight to the international level. His marriage did not develop smoothly – the departure corrected it.
The meantime, we lived a vibrant young life.
Sasha bought a car and picked me up,
“Let’s go register the toy at the traffic police!” I enthusiastically sat down next to him and we drove off. Our path lay through a tunnel made in the rock, and as soon as the car drove into it, we found ourselves in pitch darkness.
“Turn on the headlights!” I shouted.
Sasha lit a match and climbed somewhere down. I was terrified that the car would skid, I grabbed the steering wheel and carefully turned it, but fortunately, the headlights flashed, illuminating the road. We, all drenched, jumped out of the tunnel and found ourselves on the tram line. There was a car standing on the rails perpendicular to us, the driver of which extended his hand in our direction and was pointing to something to us.
“Slow down!” I said.
We were getting closer. The man still was extending his index finger towards us.
“Slow down, damn that idiot! Brake!” I squealed.
There was a crack of glass. We lightly bumped into the side of someone else’s car.
Its driver, amazed by the unexpected collision, without words showed us two fingers (“Two”), rings around the eyes (“bespectacled”), chords around the chin (“bearded”), and twirled it at his temple (“idiots”)!
Fortunately, the impact was weak, his car was not damaged, and only the sidelight on Sasha’s car was cracked.
“What did you point at?” Sasha asked him.
“At your headlights. They were on. Why?” he answered.
It didn’t make sense arguing or asking “so what?” and we went on to register the car.
The car really was a good toy. We rode on it, went to Mtskheta to enjoy by a country restaurant. I remember just before Sasha’s leaving we had lunch there. The food was not up to par. The khachapuri (Georgian cheese pie) instead of cheese was stuffed with an inedible white mass.
“Pastry with alabastry!” I joked.
“My foot won’t step in here again!” added Sasha.
The joke was based on a contradiction: as if he could step in, but did not want to, because at that time emigrating was like going to the other world, with no chance of returning. But, as usual, after many years everything changed. It became possible to return, to come in, and to try the food, which became delicious again!
In the meantime, Sasha was visiting his family at the dacha in the mountains, and once even drove to the coast. A couple of times I used this car to bring the beautiful laboratory assistant Toma, from the Department of Metallurgy, to Matvey’s apartment. You understand, “All our power is in our melting rods,” as the metallurgists said. And Matvey had already sent his wife to her parents, was selling furniture and preparing to leave.
“Don’t you want to move to Israel or the West?” Toma asked me, “I’ll divorce my husband and leave with you,” she joked, but I understood that it was the reconnaissance in force.
In the future, she actually fulfilled her plan – she divorced her husband and crossed the border with a new family.
It seemed that all life was tightening its ring around a person, presenting him with a choice: to stay or to emigrate. Sasha was ready. He grew up professionally, developed his own direction in modern mathematics, which brought success both scientifically and financially, survived family drama and even mastered driving a car. It was time to open new horizons…
The last months passed in a difficult internal struggle between family duty and new feelings, but the first choice meant moving and new development, and the second chose meant Soviet stagnation for many years.
In the summer, for the first time after our first meeting at the pioneer camp in Manglisi, we rested for several days together. I saw off my sister, who flew home from Sukhumi on a plane packed like a bus – standing passengers were escorted out by the police, and I stayed at the seaside to finish the holidays with Sasha. And he was with Seda. I think that he had already decided everything and was saying goodbye to her.
We went to a remote, as they would say now, private restaurant, in Agudzera. Individual tables were located at different levels on the mountainside, hidden from each other by trees and bushes, decorated with garlands of multi-colored lights. Seda was raising multiple toasts to a successful emigration, to a happy outcome, to a bright future. It was surprising that love and good feelings for Sasha overpowered her sadness and pain of a woman who would soon be left alone. It was worthy of respect.
And Sasha was entering the period of submitting documents and leaving. No one could have imagined then that the process would be so rapid. We joked “Forty days.” But unlike the memorial period, it was a celebration of a renewal. Sasha purchased plane tickets from Moscow to Rome. I flew with his family to see off those who leaving. Of course, I flew not to Rome, but to Moscow. My last help was to simply be there in a nervous environment.
A day before departure, we went to Domodedovo to check in our luggage. I met a very beautiful girl from the information booth. Despite the fact that we were on opposite sides of the barricades, we… became friends. Believe it or not, she told me when it was better to go for inspection, which customs officers to contact, who to avoid. I was very embarrassed – it was a simple human sympathy that meant a lot in that situation.
Sasha’s relatives were distributed among Moscow apartments and a hotel. I stayed close to Yugo-Zapadnaya (South-West) subway station, with my school classmate, Zhorik, who offered to accommodate two- three people. Sasha’s cousin from Belarus kept us company, and we spent half the night discussing whether to go or not.
The next morning we rushed to the airport. Those leaving were already moved behind the fence, where it was impossible to hug or touch them. They were in the “other world.” We blew them kisses and waved our hands. The women were crying… Of course I knew that I would be reunited with my friend Sasha, but when and how… I had no idea yet.
Not yet I, but a part of my soul was moving to “distant regions.” It was sad. Here you are, “Tra-ta-tet, tra-ta-tet, we are moving with the cat” from a children’s song about cheerful friends moving to a distant regions.
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