At twenty-nine minutes past four she flew up, as if on a trampoline. Sasha sat up, her mind muddled by sleep, and tried to stretch her arm but jerked with sudden pain.
She remembered; shook her head—did this mean she’d slept for almost twenty four hours?
Her mouth was dry. Sasha stood up, drank some water from the teapot, managed to pull on her sweat pants, and stuck her feet into her boots. She poked her right arm into the sleeve, grunting, heaved the jacket over the left shoulder. Holding a ski hat, she went outside.
The sky had cleared up again. The stars burned brightly. Icy patches in the courtyard were cleared haphazardly; some spots were heavily covered with sand and salt. The cast grew cold on her arm, a strange, unpleasant sensation. Only a few minutes remained until five o’clock. Sasha walked more quickly. She went down into the underground crossing, holding the railing with her good arm. Her steps echoed in the dark tunnel. Only seconds remained.
A lone streetlight burned at the park entrance. A man stood leaning onto its pole.
Sasha marched by with bullet-like determination. And only having stepped onto a snow-bound path, she startled and glanced back.
The streetlight reflected in the smoky lenses. Two bright yellow dots.
“Go home,” said the man who stood under the streetlight. “Get some rest. Starting today, you don’t have to run anymore.”
In March the cast was removed. Mom suggested that now, finally, Sasha’s nerves would get back to normal, and her “weirdness” would cease.
Strangely enough, no longer having to run in the mornings proved to be excruciatingly difficult. It seemed as if life had lost meaning. Valentin’s presence aggravated her more and more. Once he even left to stay at a hotel, and Mom did not speak with Sasha for several days. All alone, Sasha roamed aimlessly along the streets, hating school and the college prep. The tutor ended up canceling their sessions.
Valentin reasoned with Mom to be patient. He convinced her that Sasha’s issue was stopping her near-dependency on painkillers, which she swallowed by handfuls. He had a good point.
And Mom was right as well. Having shed the cast, regaining the use of her arm, Sasha calmed down almost immediately. The chain of everyday existence again settled over the familiar cogs, and it turned and turned again, counting the days: Morning. School. College prep. Homework. Evening. Night…
A collection of identical days. A settled rhythm. Sasha learned not to jump seeing passersby in dark glasses; spring came, and more and more people wore shades. At school, money was being collected for the prom. Many arguments ensued, and many disagreements—some parents, like Sasha’s mother, suggested having a modest celebration, and some insisted on expensive gifts for the teachers and a river cruise.
Sasha wrote a test essay on her college prep courses and, to her dismay, got a B.
“Don’t choose a free topic,” her instructor insisted. “Pick a standard theme and elaborate on it just like you were taught. Free topics are for geniuses and for idiots—don’t make the same mistake twice!”
Sasha listened, nodded and knew that sooner or later the man in the dark glasses would appear again. And then he would ask for something again, and Sasha would not be able to refuse.
Or could she try? What if Valentin’s heart scare was just a coincidence?
Every time, allowing this thought, Sasha glanced behind her back in fear. She knew she could never rebel. She would not even try. It was too frightening.
She did not quite make it to the highest graduation rank, but was not really disappointed. She has known for a while that that was not going to happen. The prom passed her by: Sasha kept falling asleep amidst the happy crowds and was pleased that at least there was no river cruise.
Ivan Konev danced with Irina from a parallel class. Sasha almost did not care. Kon graduated with highest honors and, by the time the prom rolled around, was already accepted into the School of Mechanics and Mathematics.
Sasha went to submit her application for the School of Philology; she went by herself. Mom wanted to accompany her, but Sasha insisted on going alone.
Linden trees were beginning to blossom. The rain came down in light sprinkles. Sasha walked and smiled. This year a trip to the seaside was not going to happen, but she was fine with that. If she did not get into the university on the first try… It was an unpleasant thought, but oh well. She could get a job as a secretary, perhaps even in the School of Philology. She could work, make some connections. She could break out of this vicious circle—notes, homework, notes…
“Sasha!”
She turned around, still smiling. The man in dark glasses sat on the bench that she’d just passed, lost in her thoughts. Reflecting her smile, he stretched his lips and patted the bench next to him in a welcoming gesture.
Sasha went over and sat down, putting her bag neatly in her lap.
“How’s the arm?” her companion asked briefly.
“It’s good.”
Sparrows fidgeted in the wet linden tree above their heads. Their chirping deafened Sasha.
“How many coins do you have?”
“Four hundred seventy-two,” she answered without thinking.
“You have the passing score.”
“I haven’t taken any exams yet…”
“Oh, but you have,” he grinned again. “Here you go.”
He offered her a yellow piece of paper, some sort of an official letter, with Sasha’s first and last names typed in neatly:
“Congratulations! Samokhina Alexandra, you are hereby accepted as a freshman to the Institute of Special Technologies in the town of Torpa. Classes begin on September 1st .”
And below, in small print:
“Regarding placement in dormitories, please contact…”
Sasha tore her eyes away from the paper. She stared at the man sitting next to her. For a couple of minutes she couldn’t say anything.
“What is this?”
“This is the school you’re going to. It’s a very good school.”
“I don’t understand,” Sasha managed. “The University… I..”
The man sitting next to her took off his glasses.
Sasha expected just about anything. That he had no eyes at all. That his eyes were drawn on the pale coalescent eyelids. That his eyes were sewn together with a coarse thread, that his eye sockets were empty…
He had eyes. Brown. Serene. Perfectly ordinary at first glance.
“My name is Farit,” he said softly. “Farit Kozhennikov. If you would like to know.”
“I would like to know,” Sasha said after a pause. “Could you…let me go? Farit? How about it?”
He shook his head.
“Sasha. You passed the preliminary testing, you were accepted into a good school, and you have almost an entire free summer ahead of you. Enjoy your summer, swim, take walks. Gather your strength before school. By August thirty-first get a ticket to Torpa. You can get there a couple of days in advance, get into the dorm, get acquainted…”
“But how am I supposed to explain it to my mother?” Sasha almost screamed it. A woman passerby glanced at her with surprise.
“You’ll find a way,” Farit said. “Come up with something. You never know, it might happen that there won’t be anyone to explain yourself to. Freedom—do whatever you want.”
He put his glasses back on. Sasha clutched the bench; the serene face of her companion swam in front of her eyes.
“And I have to…” she began shrilly. “You can’t… You can’t do anything. Nothing. I don’t believe in you. You… I want it to be a dream!”
Nothing happened. The sun peeked through the clouds and reflected in the puddles.