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‘Ok, we’ll stop for now,’ said Tanya gobbling up her breakfast, ‘And… Don’t touch my cup, I’ll finish it after the shower,’ warned Tanya as she sipped her coffee with great care so as not to burn her own bad-words-dirty tongue. In a couple of minutes, she vanished in the washroom with her green towel. Did they bring red, yellow and green towels on purpose to hang it on the balcony strings symbolizing traffic lights? Red- don’t disturb! Green- welcome! Yellow- hell, beware!
Soon they got used to their new morning behavioral system. Katya remained responsible for breakfast. Yulya was to wash up after breakfast and Tanya after dinners. Who made dinners? Whoever wanted or whoever was the hungriest. Being at their language school till one p.m. they had only apples perhaps or yogurts they’d brought with them. Until dinner, they hung around in the city center.
Alexanderplatz was their most frequented metro station. They window shopped and sightsaw a lot.
Once they went accessory-shopping. And Tanya didn’t pay for nail polish by accident. She felt somewhat ashamed at first, especially with the super moralised Blondie beside her. But then Yulya repeated the trick and from time to time Fringe and Red-haired went shop-lifting. Katya didn’t preach morals to them but just refrained from their new entertainment.
After that, they always headed to net supermarkets such as Aldi or Espar to buy food to cook at home. Evenings were always party time for them. The girls drank cheap wine, met their language school friends, hung out in the parks playing silly games, singing songs and going wherever they were invited to.
Every day they went out and saw an ever-growing row of their wine bottles standing near a garbage container, wondering why they were still there. No one bothered to tell them there was a special container for glass.
It was one of those days when they got together with the whole crew of international students, those who were also learning German. Before going to a club, they popped into a tiny liquor store, places mainly owned by Turkmen or Arabs. One could buy drinks, chocolate and some snacks in the middle of the night there. Everyone was already out of the kiosk with their bottles of beer, but Tanya and Katya were still thinking about what to have. They just didn’t like beer.
‘What an attractive back and cute curly hair he has,’ thought Katya to herself when she was passing a guy standing in front of the beer fridges and felt a strong impulse to brush against his back but held herself back. Finally, the ladies agreed to beers as the wine prices were higher than they’d expected. Why couldn’t they have what they wanted? A perpetual question. To have or not to have was merely the question of money. No money- no desires to fulfill. Forget your desires till you earn… or steal… or maybe an opposite sex will provide for you? These were the thoughts to consider.
When they strolled out of the kiosk with the bottles of their disliked drink, a friend of the cute curly hair wondered whether the girls were Polish. Why is no one capable of telling a Pole from a Russian? Perhaps for the same reason not many can tell a Portuguese from a Spaniard. Being polite girls they answered the question and kept on walking.
‘Why don’t we talk to the guys?’ ventured Tanya addressing Katya. ‘Maybe we’ll get some wine after all,’ Tanya winked at Katya.
Na?ve Katya wondered, ‘How?’
‘The guys! If they consider us bedworthy, we might have a chance,’ lectured Tanya with her eyes full of wisdom.
‘But I don’t wanna go to bed for a bottle of wine,’ warned Katya mockingly scared – fun of adventure was only in her head.
‘Me neither, silly. Let’s just have a talk first,’ replied Fringe.
Simultaneously they turned around and joined the guys. A lovely talk with Sven (an outgoing young man with tangled hair and fogged grey eyes, the one who asked if they were Polish) went in English. Why English? The girls were simply experiencing a psychological barrier with the German language. And, vice versa, Mr. Curly Hair had problems with speaking English, didn’t he? Or was he just shy? No matter what it was, he looked so important standing there as if he was the President of the Dominican Republic or something. Filip was his name. Realizing that their small talk was stretching to a common small biography about Tanyushka and Katushka (Russians prefer to ‘colour’ words showing their attitude towards them by adding all sorts of diminutive suffixes, so Tatyana might equally be called in a diminutive way Tanushka, Tanushkin, Tanchik, Tanusik, Tanechka, Tanyok and so on, depends on how rich your imagination is), the ladies decided it would be better to meet up the next day. And right now they had to produce, ‘Sorry, but we need to catch up with our international buddies.’
‘So if you’re not coming along, give us your phone numbers and we’ll get in touch,’ Blondie finished Tanya’s thought in a hurrying voice.
A moment of silence stood within the Germans staring at each other in bewilderment.
Mr. Curly Hair blurted out, ‘I thought GUYS are supposed to take girls’ phone numbers’.
Everyone burst out laughing. The thought ‘When you make up your mind to ask for our phone numbers, sweet hearts, we’ll be already heading back home to Russia to drink tea out of samovars in frosty winters with valenkis on,’ was distinctly read in the Russian laughing eyes.
Finally, the phone numbers were exchanged, and the females headed towards the having-fun rest of the eve.
The next day they met, Mr. Curly Hair was ten minutes late. Who said that Germans were punctual? Raise your hand!
Hungry, so hungry everyone was. Walking the district in circles they finally managed to pick an Italian pizza place and share two Margaritas and one Diabolo pizza.
‘Geee, it’s so damn spicy,’ said Tanchik breathing like a locomotive.
‘Diabolo means devil, it’s supposed to be hot, like in hell,’ hinted the waiter overhearing the comment and asked if they wanted a refill.
‘Oh, that is very good to know. Thank you,’ replied Katya with a little irritation noticing that at the moment she reminded herself her own mother who didn’t like when people answered questions that weren’t directed to them.
As the waiter turned around, Katya’s eyes slid to his butt. Addressing the girls she said in Russian, ‘А у него классная попка! (Meaning ‘What a nice ass he has!’)
The waiter turned around and said in pure Russian, ‘Спасибо!’ (meaning ‘thanks’)
Katya turned red like the tomato sauce on the Diabolo pizza.
In a couple of hours, they appeared at Filip’s place, under the pretense that they needed some German magazines or books to make a project for their German course. The girls didn’t feel uncomfortable about inviting themselves to somebody else’s place so fast. Could their way be described as chutzpah?
Filip’s flat. All white, same as theirs. Again they felt like being in a hospital. Only later the girls learnt that almost all German apartments were white, rented ones in particular.
Wow, so many records here! Filip was crazy about music. Most of his records were old-school hip-hop. Frankly speaking, the Russian ladies couldn’t tell one vinyl from another, but they were still marveled by the amount of them. So when Mr. Curly Hair asked what they would like to listen to, the girls felt at ease answering in unison, ‘As you wish’.
All of a sudden Sven did a headstand.
‘Um, is it what Germans do when they listen to hip-hop?’ wondered Yulya to herself and asked out loud, ‘Can I use your washroom?’
Filip waved his hand in the direction of the washroom.
As the Red-haired reached the secret room she opened the cold water tap to prevent others from hearing her toilet procedure sounds. How inventive she considered herself every time she did it, and how wasteful Europeans would consider her doing so.
Chapter 3
One week had passed. What would the other three weeks bring? The girlies were eager to visit different places in Europe. Since they had classes on workdays, only weekends were available to hit the road. Their only plan was to see Amsterdam. They bought the cheapest train tickets they could find and headed for Amsterdam with no particular plan. They could walk along the Red Light District, perhaps admire sexy ladies in the shop windows and just sightsee whatever there was in the guidebook.
‘I would not want to stand out there and seduce passing-by men. And hope that my next client would be just a jolly healthy young stud longing for a healthy sex, not a fucking maniac or something. I wonder what made them take up such a job?’ Yulya finished her monologue of wonder, pity, and disgust while staring at the window ladies.
‘I bet you don’t really wanna know this, hun. It’s not the good life, not the happy circumstances that persuaded them to do the first step in this direction. But who knows, maybe some girlies do love their occupation and treat it like a hobby,’ summarized Tanya nonchalantly in a low voice watching the half-naked bodies. Fringe seemed to enjoy the talk and kept speculating, ‘I heard bisexuality is pretty common in Europe. So these ladies might even take care of women too.’
‘Are you serious?’ exclaimed Yulya raising her eyebrows.
‘Yup. Say, a man wants to fuck, like really, really badly, he can’t help it. But he doesn’t have a constant partner. What should he do? Go masturbate? Hire a hooker? Or just go to a bar and maybe find someone who wants to fuck also really, really badly? And it doesn’t much matter what sex the person would be as long as he is satisfied in the end… or in the end, it doesn’t much matter for these ladies,’ Fringe waved in the direction of the window girls, ‘who they’re going to deal with as long as they get paid… it’s just a routine job for them, no feelings involved,’ finished Tanya with an air of an expert.
‘Ew, you are always so harsh in explaining things, sweetie,’ commented Yulya.
‘But that’s the case,’ Tanya defended herself.
‘Or… the man should just go and do sports instead of screwing hell-knows-who when his hormones are playing dirty tricks on him. Otherwise, one might end up developing some perverse habit or even some unhealthy mania. It’s so unnatural in my opinion. Men have penises, women vaginas, a simple puzzle like that. A stick fits into a hole. What are they supposed to do when it’s two penises or two vaginas?’ Yulya expressed herself vigorously.
Tanya seemed to ignore Yulya’s comment and proceeded with an air of a news presenter, ‘But the same happens with animals… Say, cattle are grazing and nature is calling some cows to have sex, in other words, oestrus, when their organism wants sex to make offspring, but, unfortunately, there are no bulls around. What are the cows to do when they are itchy inside? They mount other cows…The same with people. Itchy inside, why not have sex with anyone around.’
Katya finally interfered, ‘Yes, Yulya, arses for men, fingers for women as a helping aid. But if you wanna know the procedure, perhaps you should try it with a girl, she will be your manual. Anyway, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone and both sides are willing, I see no harm in any possible variation. Yes, there’re cases of the same sex who feel love emotions to each other, so just accept it, sweetie.’ She produced a long sigh, noticed her comment made no particular persuasive effect and pushed the two speculating friends of hers farther, ‘Come on, we have lotsa other things to see, not only playboy girls.’
With a sour face, Red-haired shrugged her shoulders to the unsatisfying answer. On seeing the strengthening disgust on Yulya’s freckled face, Fringe changed the topic asking, ‘And what about coffeeshops then?’
‘I thought we’ve talked it through, ladies,’ reminded Blondie pushing them gently forward.
‘I know, but I still don’t understand your point. We are in Holland. And who knows maybe we’ll never be here again. We must have a smoke. I know you think it could be dangerous, but, come on, almost every Dutch does it. Look, they are still alive! Americans even consider marijuana a medicine,’ Tanya was waving her arms trying to persuade prudent Blondie.
‘I don’t wanna do it, cuz I’ve heard stories. Besides, a person can have a lot of fun without drinking or smoking or getting high. And yes, it can be dangerous,’ Katya explained herself.
‘Why don’t we eat a cake with hashish at least. I heard it’s not that strong as a joint. Just a new experience? And you don’t need to try it if you don’t want to, just come with us,’ Red-haired joined Tanya’s floor of persuasion.
‘Fine, fine, let’s go to a coffeeshop, otherwise, you’ll never leave me alone. I’ll come cuz I wanna see the place, watch you get stupid, and take pictures. But, only in the evening! First, we see the sights!’ Blondie agreed finally and performed a theatrical evil laugh anticipating interesting snaps.
Till seven p.m. the trio managed to see the Van Gogh paintings, Rembrandt House Museum, and take an Amstel River tour. Time for the coffeeshop!
Being pioneers in coffeeshops they were advised against space cakes stuffed with cannabis. To start with, they ordered just two pre-rolled joints which were a mixture of cannabis and tobacco. Katya ordered just water, which was damn expensive, and got comfortable to watch the ladies get high. The time was creeping very slowly now. Katya noticed the friends’ eyes get glossy and red. They started giggling.
‘Ok, you were right, nothing dangerous so far. Just silly giggling girls,’ commented Katya.
Tanya and Yulya looked at each other and started laughing even louder.
‘Still, I don’t regret not having tried it,’ Katya said aloud but seemed as if to herself, as the girls were covered in their laughter not paying much attention to her. The only thing she regretted was that they hadn’t had dinner first but headed to this place as she felt her stomach rumble with hunger.
Chapter 4
Arriving back to Berlin meant resuming the Berlin routine.
As usual, Katya woke up, shaved her legs and armpits, and washed with a cherry shower gel, the smell of which would remind her of Berlin for the rest of her life. Then she would walk up to Yulya to wake her up. To Tanya, she would come up two or three times, and sometimes she would even succeed in pulling her out of bed.
Days were passing. The three Russians and two Germans saw each other from time to time, having lots of laughter-giraffter.
Once, on a perfect July day, the girlies were invited to a picnic in Volkspark Wilmersdorf by their learning German internationals. What a grand event for them! Lots of jovial youngsters hanging out in a park, with food and drinks!
Everyone seemed to be under a happy spell. The sun was shining in their faces! Birds were chirping in the trees. Multiple trees were stretching out their green fluffy arms all over to offer a shadowy shelter. A blue clear endless dome was hanging above. What else can a soul desire? A hearty meal! And the ladies were hungry like hell as they hadn’t eaten the whole day.
As the bottles were opened, Katya emptied her first plastic cup of wine at a go. And she instantly felt herself somewhat high in the bright blue sky. Tuned to the sun’s energy Blondie seemed to be in her childish mood, annoying everyone like kids do. Having small-talked to every possible soul in their circle, Katya approached Fil. He was busy talking to Tanya. Was that an obstacle? Katya sat beside him and tickled his knee.
‘Stop it!’ came his reaction. What kid would stop after such a phrase? Apparently, that was exactly the motto for kids meaning Do it again! Thus, the hungry girl tickled him again and again, smiling, watching his reaction.
‘Hey! If you do it again, you’ll be in trouble!’ Mr. Curly Hair pronounced like some mafia boss warning his victim for the last and only time with playful malice. Soon Filip learnt that the silly kindergarten girl was in a playground mood that sunny afternoon. And his last words were understood as not only Do it again! but as green lights, the encouraging non-stop signal, meaning C’mon, tickle me to death, Katushka!
Thus, the silly-goose girl was obliged to tickle him again. In a second she knew not how she was lying on the grass on her back with Filip sitting atop her. It was not the happy look of under him at last, but the look, how the fuck did that happen?
The rest of the evening the two spent fighting with each other. You know, like puppies do bite each other when playing? After the picnic everyone was aware of Katya-and-Filip’s mutual non-indifference towards each other. No wonder everyone was asking if they were a couple. Funny enough, the two of them kept on denying it, even to themselves. And yes, they were grown-up people who behaved like… kids? More like overgrown kids…
The next morning Katya woke up with bruises all over her body. Definitely, something to remember Filip by. Was it their way of showing love to each other?
Chapter 5
This time it was Filip who invited them to have a meal at his Mum’s apartment. Filip’s Mum was away on holiday. So it was the perfect time to occupy her decent apartment on the top of the house, where there was a nice wooden terrace with a dining table and four chairs. Sven couldn’t make it that day. Was he to practice his headstand instead?
As they went to the place they bumped into a playground with a merry-go-round that looked like a big bowl that was fastened to the ground in the middle. While Tanya and Yulya decided not to be stupid, Katya, on the contrary, placed her bum down onto the bowl merry-go-round. Filip began to spin it.
The playground whirled faster and faster in Katya’s eyes. The whole world became a mess of various colours. As she started to feel dizzy, she yelled, ‘Enough! Stop!’
But that time she completely forgot that stop-phrase worked like encouragement for kids. So Mr. Curly Hair started to spin even faster… and there Katya flew! Was it dropping like a stone more like? Her bum landing on the ground. As Katya heard sorry, she briskly glanced at Filip. A pitiful look was readable on his face.
‘Never mind,’ Katya heard herself say, a cold angry look froze on her face. All of them resumed walking in silence; Katya shook off the dust from her skirt and observed the scratches on her elbow.
What a lovely apartment Filip’s Mum had! Having understood from the previous time that girls were not really inclined to choose their music, Mr. Curly Hair took the liberty of turning on funk.
Everyone agreed on a vegetable stew, and Tanya volunteered to cook the dinner. Too many cooks would spoil the broth, so Fringe commanded not to disturb her. Katya set the table on the terrace and soon joined Filip and Yulya watching his childhood pictures. Soon one could make out the smell of heated olive oil, frying onion, eggplant, and pepper. A carrot too perhaps, if fried carrots do have a particular smell.
As they all sat to the table, they pretended to eat like high-class society – speaking on social themes, weather, and so on. They praised Tanya’s culinary masterpiece. But their performance didn’t last long, as they switched to reminiscing funny stories from their school times, forgetting about the knives, waving their forks in a cloud of agitated laughter.
Perhaps all of them would remember Filip’s hilarious but remorseful story of catching a guy from a lower grade and sliding a mop into both of his sleeves. The guy was not able to put down his arms but was to walk like the red, little traffic light man, the symbol of Berlin, with his arms outstretched.
Tanya might even keep the memory of the taste of the red wine and funk music playing in the background with sudden beeping sounds coming from the cars below. Perhaps Yulya would remember multiple city roofs and the night sky. Katya – Filip’s smile and the fresh summer night air.
Or maybe they would remember all of it?
How could Yulya be moody at such a pleasant night? No one noticed when her mood had changed. She kept herself quiet staring nowhere in particular; a melancholic air was readable on her freckled face.
‘I’m going home. Thanks for the eve, Fil. I’ll see you tomorrow, girls,’ Red-haired reported and took her dirty plate to the kitchen’s sink.
‘Why so early? Stay! We’ll sleep here, no need to go home!’ Filip had to yell at Yulya’s back, his forehead instantly covered with wrinkles.
‘Leave her, Fil. I know this girl. If Yulya wants to be alone, let it be so,’ warned him Katya.
When Yulya left, Filip brought out a bright rug and placed it on the wooden floor, and lay atop. The girls understood it as a welcoming gesture. In an instant, three weirdos lay on a small rug on the roof watching stars, if any could be seen from a big city lit with hundreds of lights.
Before leaving Yulya thought she would want to return in the morning and be a lovely surprise to everyone bringing something to eat for breakfast. So she left the door slightly open by putting Katya’s flat-shoe in the doorway, so the door wouldn’t lock.
On stepping outside, Red-haired dived into the street world. Brightly lit pictures everywhere. Sparkling windows. People in cafes and bars gulping their beers. The city noise was like an orchestra as if rehearsing before a performance tuning their instruments. Glasses clinked. The jolly chatting buzzed. Passing cars whistled. Yulya could also make out a mixture of different smells. Perfume. Pizza. Drinks. Exhaust fumes.
‘Excuse me,’ a young chap sitting on a cafe terrace addressed Yulya loudly, ‘Can I take a picture of you? You know, you don’t often see high-heels around here.’
‘Go ahead,’ Red-haired responded and struck a pose.
As the chap got up to take a picture he spoke again, ‘I’ll show the pic to my girlfriend to let her know what drives me on.’
He took a shot and said, ‘Thanks. Have a good evening!’
‘Oh, bear in mind high-heels aren’t very comfortable,’ added Yulya.
‘How do you wear them then?’ he wondered.
‘I’m used to them. I’ve been wearing heels since fourteen. I didn’t like being short, so the heels helped me out really. Well, have a good eve!’ Red-haired answered with a pleasant smile and walked on.
She remembered how she used to change her high-heels for trainers to go for a walk with her ex after school. With thoughts of her ex-boyfriend, she came home to wash off the day that was coming to an end.
In bed. Lights still on. Again Yulya thought of Dima, her first and only boyfriend. Was she missing him? Or was she just feeling lonely and wanted to cuddle up against any male flesh? Suddenly Red-haired felt irritation towards him. Irritation that, even though it was SHE who had broken up with him, he wasn’t with her now. Irritation that he hadn’t written her or called her, even though she’d told him not to bother her for some time. Irritation that he hadn’t come up with some strategy to win her back, even though she’d told him their relationship wasn’t going anywhere but standing on one and the same spot. Realizing this she finally shaped her conclusion into a clear thought, ‘If he doesn’t need me anymore, then this is the end of our story. Good riddance. I’m officially free then.’
Yulya tossed in her bed drowning in her overemotional state. She jumped out of bed. In semi-darkness, she fished out a ciggie and a lighter from her purse and landed on the windowsill. Lit a ciggie, puffed at it twice and for the first time, she was feeling a real relief smoking. She was really enjoying it. She took a long drag feeling the smoke in her lungs and with it her worries. She became aware of the tension knot inside her, she imagined it untie and exhaled it together with the smoke. As Red-haired finished her smoke, she felt serene and sleepy. Now she had no problems falling asleep.
Meanwhile, Mr. Curly Hair and the two Russian girlies decided to turn in. Three of them perfectly fit in Filip’s Mum’s bed yawning and telling night-night to each other. Filip in the middle of the two Russians. What a lucky man he was, wasn’t he? A dilemma for him? He was magnetized to Katya, but he couldn’t make out her real feelings towards him. There was some invisible obstacle between them. At the same time, like any man, he was attracted to Tanya’s curves. While Filip brooded on his dilemma, Tanya was already asleep as her quiet snoring was filling the room.
Some other thoughts whirled in Katya’s head, ‘Damn, I can’t bring myself to embrace him or just take his hand. Stupid, stupid me…’ She struggled for a moment, and miraculously simultaneously their sweaty hands magnetized to each other with great tension. Fingers between fingers. The heat was rising up between their hands, but stupidly enough they never dared go further than that. What unhealthy suppression of emotions, wasn’t it?
