Funny, but True. Igor Kluev
she were here to see the cardiologist, we might have more in common, and starting a conversation would be easy.
“Hi! You look nice. How was your blood pressure this morning?” I might say.
“It was good. My doctor prescribed a very effective medication. What about you? What pills are you taking?” She might reply.
After chatting, we’d get acquainted, and I’d ask her to lunch. We’d pick a cozy restaurant and enjoy one or two glasses of red wine – should it be one or two? I’d need to ask my cardiologist.
Things could get romantic. I’d take her to a hotel. Hopefully, she wouldn’t expect me to act like Rambo, firing away with endless energy. I just hoped my “gunpowder” would be dry.
But then again, maybe she was here for the orthopedist. That was possible. I didn’t see any crutches nearby, which was a relief. But who knew? Maybe, the doctor would prescribe them after her visit. Would that be so bad? If she couldn’t walk on the boardwalk or attend line dance, it would suit me just fine. I don’t like those activities. We’d drive to the restaurant instead, have our wine, and – again – how many glasses? One or two? I’d have to check with my cardiologist.
Just then, the door to the cardiologist’s office opened. A man, who was roughly my age stepped out. He approached the lovely lady.
“Dear, sorry to keep you waiting so long,” he said with a smile,” but I have great news! The doctor says my heart has improved tremendously. He even allowed me to go out to a restaurant and enjoy some wine, but two glasses tops.”
The woman stood up quickly, smiling as she moved toward him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was clear – she didn’t need the attention of a cardiologist or an orthopedist. They left hand in hand, perfectly content.
A nurse appeared at the door to the cardiologist’s office and motioned for me to come in. I wondered – why was I even here? My routine weekly blood pressure check went wrong.
After the check-up, the doctor told me to spend the next few days in bed, avoiding wine or excitement. So, I followed his advice. When I felt better, I went to the library and borrowed the movie Mission Impossible. Because any mission is possible.
A Deal
It was a Friday morning in November of last year. I had the evening shift at work, which left me plenty of free time. I woke up leisurely around 9 a.m., brewed some coffee, and basked in the luxury of doing nothing. With a steaming cup and wearing my bathrobe, I settled in front of the TV and turned it on.
The cup of coffee nearly slipped from my hands. It was that Friday in November – Black Friday! How could I have forgotten?
The news was showing footage of the local Walmart from a helicopter. People were streaming out in groups, triumphantly hauling massive boxes of 60-inch TVs for half price. My heart raced. I lived with my wife in a 400-square-foot studio, but a 60-inch TV for half price. That was worth sacrificing our bed! I could always replace it with a convertible one.
I abandoned my coffee, skipped breakfast, and dashed to my car. I turned the key, and – of course – a red light flashed on the dashboard. The gas tank was nearly empty. I rushed to the nearest gas station and found a long line of cars standing at a single pump. The most of other gas station employees were at Walmart buying 60-inch TVs.
When it was finally my turn, I realized I’d left my wallet and credit cards at home. A wave of panic set in. The people in line behind me grew restless, and the attendant started glaring at me. I wished I could disappear. If my wife had been with me, I might have left her as a hostage. But I was alone and desperate.
That’s when inspiration struck. I turned to the attendant and offered to work the second pump as compensation for the gas.
“Vivat!” The crowd behind me cheered.
At that moment, my popularity soared. If I’d announced a run for the president, they probably would’ve elected me on the spot.
For the next half hour, I worked the pump like a pro. Everyone rushed off to Walmart for their discounted 60-inch TVs. Once my impromptu shift ended, I hurried home to grab my wallet.
When I arrived at Walmart at 6 p.m., the 60-inch TVs were long gone. So were the 50-inch TVs, the 40-inch TVs, and even the 30-inch TVs. The only thing left. A 20-inch TV is on sale for half price. I already had a 20-inch TV at home, but the allure of the deal was irresistible. I bought it anyway.
When I got home, I stored the new TV in the closet. From that spot, I could turn it on and watch it from the bathroom. I wouldn’t miss a single deal in the future. After all, Black Friday taught me anything, it’s that you can never be too prepared.
Good night, Moscow
On the eve of New Year’s 2021, Grace sat in her Philadelphia apartment, scrolling through the Internet pages.
“What’s your wish for next year?” Paris Hilton’s post asked her followers. Paris, Grace’s favorite model, posed in front of a Christmas tree, dressed as though it were a hot summer day.
Grace sighed and glanced out her window. At 8 p.m., the streets of Philadelphia were quiet and empty, as usual.
“Oh, Paris! What do I want? Not to be in Paris,” Grace thought with a wry smile.
“To be back in Moscow, singing Christmas carols with my a cappella group. Like in May 2019, during the A Cappella Festival,” she said aloud, her voice tinged with longing.
“Paris, Paris! You couldn’t imagine how deeply Moscow lives in my heart,” Grace whispered to herself with a deep sigh.
Her mind wandered to that unforgettable spring in Moscow. Their stage was a quaint square opposite the Bolshoi Theatre. Dressed in costumes from the early 19th century, they stood behind the Karl Marx monument, preparing to perform.
Their first song was We Wish You a Merry Christmas.
“Oh, bring us some figgy pudding,” they sang, just as the wind carried the tantalizing aroma of food from a nearby café.
Grace’s focus wavered when loud voices came from another stage across the small park. A group of men was performing. They wore traditional cherkeska coats, sheepskin caps, and daggers on their belts. One of the men stood out. His striking black eyes sparkled with intensity as he sang with extraordinary passion.
The next carol was Deck the Hall.
“Fa la la la la, la la la la,” the group sang.
The lively tune energized the audience around their stage.
“La La Land!” The crowd began to chant, cheering the performance with a famous line from Oscar’s winning movie.
The applause was gratifying, but Grace’s gaze stayed fixed on the young man in the cherkeska. He exuded a rugged charm, more compelling than any macho Mexican construction worker she’d seen back home.
Later, they met. The name of the young man was Sulaiman. He was from North Ossetia. They walked to Red Square as evening fell. The darkening sky allowed the stars to shine brighter. They went to GUM (the State Department Store) and tested Moscow’s famous ice cream. It was sweet, but the touch of Sulaiman’s hand on her waist was sweeter.
Their next stop was Zaryadye Park, where the view from the hill was breathtaking. To their left lay the Moscow River, and to the right, the golden domes of the Kremlin cathedrals gleamed in the distance. Before them stood a massive screen – set into a replica of the Vienna Opera House. Muscovites watched a free live-streamed performance of the opera Andrea Chénier from Austria. The voices were magnificent. During intermissions, the singing of night birds filled the air. Grace had fallen in love.
Her reverie was interrupted by the cry of her baby. She rushed to pick up her seven-month-old