August 19, 1998
Wednesday
7:00 a.m.
I woke up filled with a sense of happiness, so full it overflowed my body and spilled out onto the floor, into the streets, and out past the city limits, to go set about the dawn.
Scarlet light cut across the horizon, promising a new day, simple and joyful. Lava of happiness, love, and hope churned in my chest. Everything would change now. I could feel that the mark I’d lived with for five years was gone. I was free of the curse! The print of my palm on that satanic scrap of paper had vanished. I’d checked. I’d driven to the office just to see the ashes in the safe.
Ah! I was still alive, and more than that – happy! The lord of that other side of the world had made clear that if the print ever vanished, I’d return to him. But no! I was alive! Zhorik, my evil genius, was gone, and I was still, still alive.
«I’ll start a new life. God! I’m finally happy. Thank you, if you’re up there!» – I offered praise to the Almighty, becoming a believer for the first and last time in my life.
I admired her, breathing softly beside me. I had no idea who she was, where she’d come from, but inside me churned a certainty that I’d known her for a thousand years and wouldn’t part from her for a thousand more. Her body was an extension of mine. I’d be with her forever.
I woke a second time, in a cold bed, alone. The premonition of a happy life shuddered through my body, demanding I get up and do something. I jumped up, got dressed, walked into the kitchen, and breathed out, «Well, how about that!» On the table, waiting for attention, sat a pot-bellied bottle of juice, a slice of cake, and bacon and eggs.
After breakfast, the decision to take a walk was born.
Ah! The weather matched my mood perfectly. The clear sky was a reflection of my soul – lofty, bottomless, unclouded. I felt newborn. Squinting into the sun, I walked through the courtyard to the archway and came out onto Leninsky Prospekt.
What now? Where to go? To the left rose a titanium idol, staring off toward the Mediterranean, where my villas sat. I turned right, toward the center, toward Melodiya...
As I approached the store, a creaky voice jolted me:
– Hey, Lyova.
I turned toward the voice. A wino – foul, repulsive, reeking of urine and rot, disgustingly reminiscent of Vadim-Pinochet – was addressing me.
– What?
– Got some business, – he wheezed. – Come here...
– What for?
– I’ll sell it cheap. I need the money bad, buy it, – the homeless man rattled off in one breath.
I looked into his filthy palm and lost the power of speech. There sat a ring of unimaginable beauty, shimmering with a waterfall of colors, a radiance of rays and sparkles.
I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out a wad of dollars. Peeled off a third – should be enough to climb back up from the bottom, if Vadik wasn’t a fool. But he was a fool, he’d spend the money on fifty doses and drop dead.
The ring ended up in my pocket; I turned and walked back the way I’d come.
