FORM-Idea

By Pierre ScordiaTaras strolled casually along the wide green avenues of Odessa on a beautiful and sunny Saturday morning. He was carrying a bag stuffed full of 500 hryvnia notes that he must hand over to his Russian boss, who had been born in Ingushetia in the North Caucasus. His boss appreciated him in many ways, to a point where the utmost discretion was essential. Indeed, Taras was a very intelligent and good-looking young man with his fine features, grey-green eyes, dark blond hair and deep golden tan cultivated on summer days spent at the nudist beach. Taras arrived late for his appointment but his boss smiled warmly nevertheless, happy as ever to see him. Zelimkhan took the bag, thanked him and let him know that he would be away for a week.– Where are you traveling to? And what will you do there?– I’ll meet my future wife.– Are you getting married at 45?– Yes, but she’s just 19! She comes from my village but studies at university in Kazan.– Arranged marriage? – You know that I have no choice but to respect traditions. And she is very beautiful.– So what? Will that turn you on? And make you happy?– As we both understand all too well, keeping up appearances is essential in this brutal world! Anyway, come to my place tonight?– Sure, will do, Taras shrugged.Zelimkhan stood up, still smiling and said simply, “Paka-paka”.

***

Shortly after, Taras went to the Russian bookstore on Greek Square, Gresheskaya. Once inside, while leafing through Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, he couldn’t help himself discreetly eavesdropping into the phone conversation of a pretty brunette standing opposite.– Yes, I am leaving in four days for Sofia where I’ll have my last appointment to obtain Bulgarian nationality […] No, I won’t lose my Ukrainian nationality, I just need to take care not to mention my new passport […] Yes, Dedushka was listed as Bulgarian on his internal Soviet passport and when I was born in 1988, “Bulgarian” was also written on my Soviet birth certificate […] Yes, absolutely, once I have my passport, I will be able to settle permanently in Germany.The woman hung up, went to the cash register, paid for her book and left. Taras hesitated for a minute, then, on a sudden whim, decided to follow her and strike up a conversation. Her situation was very similar to his own. Taras’s grandparents were also Bulgarian and personally, he would love to move away to a safer place in Western Europe, far away from the Russian sphere of influence.When he called out to her, she calmly turned around, listened to him and smiled. She wasn’t at all offended that he had been listening to her phone conversation. Quite the opposite, she liked his boldness and frankness.She agreed to have a drink with him on a fashionable café terrace, where they settled into comfortable armchairs. She ordered a cappuccino whereas he chose a glass of lemonade. Taras needed to pay careful attention to his health, avoiding coffee, alcohol and spicy food that could trigger horrible stomach aches.– I’ll give you the phone number of a guy named Stefan. Please follow his advice to the letter. He will take care of everything: transport, visa and paperwork. Likewise, he will be your guide once you reach Sofia. His fees are expensive but you are guaranteed to get your Bulgarian passport if you can prove that one of your parents is Bulgarian on their Soviet ID. If you manage to get all the documents Stefan requires, you could come with us in 4 days. It will be fun. My name is Stella, by the way.– Okey dokey… and thank you so much.Stella laughed. She was truly stunning with her slender figure, typical of many women in Odesa, her beautiful face, long dark hair and sparkling brown eyes. Odessan women are renowned for their beauty, a result of a mix of Greek, Romanian, Ukrainian, Polish, Jewish, Bulgarian, Russian, Moldavian and Gagauz genes.A silence of several minutes followed their conversation. The two looked into each other’s eyes. Taras finally lowered his head and Stella spoke.– You will love Sofia. I’m sure it will be a breakthrough in your life.– Do you really think so? What makes you so sure?– I have a gift.– Seeing the future? Taras nervously laughed.Stella nodded.– Are you pulling my leg?– No, I am not. I am a psychic. This will be my job in Berlin.

***

Over the next few days, Taras managed, without too much trouble, to get all the necessary documents from his parents, who lived in Bessarabia. His father couldn’t understand why he wanted to run away to the West. He was convinced that moving to Moscow where the money was would give his son the best chance of a secure future. Russia was a bone of contention between him and his father, who felt deeply nostalgic for the Soviet era, when one did not have to constantly worry about making ends meet.

Thanks to Zelimkhan, he had the cash he needed to pay Stefan. After breakfast, as he had prepared to leave Zelimkhan’s apartment, he had found an envelope with his name on it left on the kitchen table. His boss had lent him 5000 dollars and 700 Euros. He had never quite grasped his Caucasian friend’s feelings. Despite his macho and traditional appearance, he was a man who could be sensitive, helpful and open-minded. Perhaps he was torn between his Muslim culture and Western yearnings.On Tuesday, at the crack of dawn, Taras arrived at the meeting point, the elegant Franstsuzk’y boulevard, right next to the Odesa Film Studio. He spotted Stefan’s minivan. Stella was already there, waving happily at him.2024©Pierre Scordia To be followed soon | Soulmates – Chapter 2: Sofia