ANGELIC KISS (ENG)

In a Georgian club, once, on some scorching August day, two beautiful but broken lives crossed paths. It was crowded and suffocating, rock music was rattling from the speakers, and musicians with huge hair, in wet and torn clothes and heavy guitars in their hands, were setting the whole dance floor on fire. A girl, herself soaked after a couple of hours of wild dancing, accidentally bumped into someone by the wall. 

— Hey, sorry, are you okay? — she asked. 

— Yeah… yeah, don’t worry, — came a thin female voice. 

— Why aren’t you dancing? And by the way, what’s your name? — the girl looked around. 

— I’m Emi. And I’m not dancing because I’m a bit shy, to be honest. 

— What? Everyone’s kind here, everyone’s just having fun, don’t be scared! Did you come alone? 

— Yes, I came alone. 

— Me too. I wanted to invite my best friend, but she couldn’t make it, and I didn’t really want to call anyone else. I don’t usually go to parties alone, but today I thought it would be a great chance to try something new. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Mariam. Friends? 

Mariam held out her fist. Emi hesitated for a moment, then understood and gently bumped her fist in return. 

— It’s just… I haven’t had friends for a long time, just a few mates at uni, but we weren’t so close, and I’ve never really been to parties before… — Emi replied shyly. 

— Really? So what do you do then? Because in my life, without people and parties, there would just be total boredom… And you know what? The fact that you’re here for the first time is another reason for us to stick together. What’s the first reason? You’re incredibly beautiful and sweet, actually. 

— Thank you, — Emi smiled warmly. — I mostly study, I’m an architecture student. 

— Hm, that must be hard, but interesting! And me, I don’t study anywhere. Want me to buy you a cocktail at the bar? I know some really good ones. 

“I often think back to the day we met,” Mariam admitted. “It really feels like a gift of fate — meeting such a lovely friend.” 

A bright crimson November sunset slowly descended over Mount Mtatsminda. Along a winding, narrow street, twisting through the many steep slopes of the mountain, Emi and Mariam were walking. You could see them from behind — the taller one had her arm resting on the other’s shoulder. It was a Friday evening; the weather was warm, around seventeen degrees; they were probably heading toward the center — somewhere near Rustaveli Avenue and Freedom Square, where life was always buzzing at that time. From the quiet, low-rise, almost village-like part of the hill to the lively district, it was only about a ten-minute walk. 

— Shall we go to the pizzeria? — Mariam suggested on the way. — I’m hungry. 

— Sure, — Emi replied. — We haven’t been there in a while. 

They entered a very small cafe with blue walls and ordered a pizza for five lari. 

— Do you remember, — Mariam asked, — how we decided to move in together right in this place? It feels like it was just recently, but also so long ago. 

— Yeah, — Emi began to recall. 

The first days of September. We were going to the park on the hill to cool down. It was so hot that time, we wanted to hide somewhere from the heat, and that little pizzeria with blue walls caught our eye on the way. 

— This area is interesting, by the way, — I said, waving my hand in front of my face. — It’s strange I’ve never been here before, even though it’s so close to the center. I like the houses here: they’re beautiful, decorated, but look like they’ve been dug out of the ground. And it feels like you’re on a rollercoaster — up and down. 

— Exactly, — Mariam smirked. — Dug out of the ground. I told you I broke up with that guy. After I found out he cheated on me, I couldn’t stand his face anymore, honestly. Emi, let’s live together. 

— Huh? — I was surprised. — Together? But… well, okay, sure… 

I suddenly felt excited. Just the thought of living with Mariam made me shiver. “But how?” I thought. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks, and I live with my parents. But… screw it. I’d be so happy if I moved in with her! Or maybe I just fell in love with her right now…” 

That day we went looking for our new home. We went up a bit, turned deeper into this Mtatsminda labyrinth of streets, and saw a big “For Rent” sign. Mariam knocked, and my hands started shaking. “So suddenly?” A big, rough-looking man opened the door — Vakhtang, sixty years old. He was addicted to strong chacha and was almost always in a drunken state in the evenings, and he terrorized his wife Tamara. She was about ten years younger, a housewife, and looked miserable. Vakhtang also had a son with severe intellectual disability. I never learned his name; the owner didn’t like him and just called him “the child,” even though that “child” was my age. 

We went up the creaky stairs to the room for rent. It was huge, quite empty, very old, but generally tidy. The furniture was very modest: two bare mattresses with sheets thrown over them, a nightstand between them with a candle holder on top, and some boxes in the corner. There was also a small table made of aged wood, and along one wall hung a Persian carpet. It always smelled of candle wax and incense, which Tamara apparently burned, even though she didn’t live there — she just kept things in order. The wallpaper was purple, worn out, with a white sheen and a floral pattern; there were holes patched with newspapers from Soviet times. The room was long but low, the windows almost at floor level, and the whole space was shaped like a trapezoid. 

We looked at a couple more places online, but they were all significantly more expensive. 

— So, the first one then? — I asked. — That wooden, shabby, and the creepiest one? 

— Yeah, — Mariam laughed, — we can’t afford the others anyway. But it’s fine, at least we’re together! 

Mariam was finishing the last slice of pepperoni pizza. 

— You seem lost in thought, — she said to Emi. — What are you thinking about? 

— I was just remembering when we moved in… Actually, I just realized we’re total opposites. I’m nineteen, you’re almost twenty-four; I’m from a family of Moscow emigrants, you’re Georgian and grew up in a village; I’m skinny, you’re more built; I like white lace dresses, you like gothic dark clothes; even your hair is black and mine is light; I’m quiet and introverted, you’re energetic and extroverted; I like drawing, you like music; I like girls, you like boys… 

— That’s exactly why we get along so well, — Mariam smiled. — Like yin and yang. 

— Yeah… like yin and yang. 

Emi finished her slice and washed it down with cola. 

— We came out somewhere, and I don’t even remember why, — she said. — We were going to Rustaveli, right? Let’s think of something to do. 

— Maybe we should go to Elvin? He lives nearby and invited us recently, — Mariam suggested. 

— I don’t know, let’s think about it, — Emi replied. 

— He recently broke up with his girlfriend. Maybe he needs support? 

— Alright, let’s go. But honestly, I’m tired, and… I think he only wants to see you. 

Outside, everything was yellow — on the trees, under their feet, and fallen leaves were drifting through the air. They turned off Rustaveli, which was blocked due to a demonstration, and walked through side streets to Elvin’s place It looked quite typical for a backstreet corner in the center: an old two-story building with a heavily peeling façade, stripped of any color. The window of the small room rented by Elvin was boarded up and sat almost at human foot level. 

The room itself was rather cozy and contrasted sharply with the exterior of the house. Despite its size—seeming only slightly larger than a dog kennel—it was arranged quite efficiently. They even managed to fit two white beds inside, with a table squeezed between them holding a laptop. Various shelves were screwed into the wall, and the only way to move around was basically to sit. 

The remaining space was filled with tables, sewing equipment, and sliding wardrobes; the layout resembled a train sleeper compartment. The walls were neat and straight, and a strip of LED lighting ran along the ceiling. 

A doorbell rang. 

— Hey, darling! — Elvin rushed in, hugging Mariam tightly and briefly embracing Emi as well. 

Elvin was twenty, tall and lean, with shoulder-length hair dyed a faded red. He had large green eyes, wore many chains and bracelets, and was a self-taught designer—he made all his clothes himself and sometimes sold them, though he remained poor. What brought him to Georgia was known only to God; he was originally from Ireland and spent most of his life there. 

— Hi, —  Mariam said, licking her lip. —  You look so good. Where did you get this… snake-like… jacket? It looks super stylish and absolutely badass! 

— Thanks, — Elvin smirked. —  I made it myself, like almost everything in my wardrobe. 

— Where did you get the fabric? Is it real snake leather? It must’ve been expensive. 

— Well, it’s fake. I try to be eco-friendly. But yeah, it was insanely expensive, even though I got it at a regular market. 

— Then where did you get the money? Come on, Elvin, who was it that swore he was broke? Naughty, naughty, don’t lie to me! 

— I just took a microloan. 

— Again? — Mariam laughed out loud. —  You’re going to end up owing everyone your belongings—including this room! Oh right, I forgot—you don’t even own anything. Even your laptop is on credit, and probably your sewing machine too. Well, same for me, honestly. We’re Generation Z—the most well-off generation that will never own a single piece of property! Do you even realize what kind of dump we’re living in with Emi? Upstairs in some maniac’s house who screams all the time and terrorizes his family—God forbid he kills us one day. And we only pay two hundred lari a month, ridiculous money, right? Emi’s parents pay her share, and I barely make ends meet myself. I can adapt to anything, but I’m honestly worried about Emi—how does she even put up with it? She doesn’t even want to move out. She says she just wants to live with me, doesn’t care how. And I feel ashamed, honestly. That I’m like this. That I can’t earn properly even though I work a lot. Whether you’re employed or running a business like me, you still end up poor anyway. Ridiculous, honestly! 

Elvin listened to Mariam’s chaotic stream of thoughts, not knowing what to say. At first he wanted to say, “That makes me uncomfortable,” then he wanted to laugh, and in the end he just said, “Yeah.” 

— You’re the only talented couturier n this city! 

— Couturier? — Elvin repeated. —  That’s too big a word. It makes it sound like I’m already sitting at some fashion week in Berlin, watching a show and saying: yeah, that’s all me, I’m a couturier! 

— Whatever—designer, artist, same thing. We work with foreign designers anyway, I mean for our shop with Sophie… 

— Sophie? Xeon? 

— Oh my God! —  Mariam slapped her face and laughed. —  Don’t tell me you don’t know her—we’ve been talking for a month, Elwin! She’s my best friend. So yeah, these designers send us stuff from abroad, and I thought it would be cool to collaborate with you, you’d supply your clothes, and we’d give you a cut. What do you say? You’re short on money anyway. 

— Hmm… alright, I guess. I’m in. Oh, by the way, have you heard the new Twigs album? It’s amazing, I’ve had it on repeat all week. 

— Yeah, I think I played it once—and I think you were the one who showed it to me. It’s good, but I’m more into darker stuff. 

Elvin put on “Afterglow” and started dancing. Mariam listened for a moment and joined in, squatting down as she danced, while Emi sat on the couch watching them with an awkward expression. 

— What’s wrong, Emi? — Mariam called out. —  Come dance too! 

Mariam took Emi by the hand and pulled her into the center of the room, trying not to bump into shelves. Elvin realized dancing at his height was a bad idea, so he dropped to his knees and started singing, nodding his head. 

The album wasn’t even finished when he said, “Alright, I’m tired of music, let’s turn it off. I want a drink. Who’s in?” 

— I think that’s fine, — Mariam said. —  We’re all probably tired after the week, right Emi? 

One after another, they left the house and headed to the nearest supermarket selling the cheapest alcohol. Outside, under a neon sign glowing red in the dark evening street, a crowd had gathered, and in the center stood a drunk man in rags with an out-of-tune guitar. 

— What’s he singing? — Elvin smirked. 

Everyone listened. 

“I am made entirely of laundry, 
Look at me! Look at me, darling!” 

— Laundry? — Mariam laughed. —  He’s definitely on something. 

They bought three bottles of Korean soju and went back. Elvin opened his first bottle, drank it almost in one go, and collapsed flat onto the couch. 

— Oh, I’m so tired! — he exclaimed. —  Can I have another? Anyone not drinking? 

— Everyone’s drinking. Emi said in the shop that she would. What are you even tired from? You’ve been lying on a couch all day? 

— From life, — Elvin sighed, rolling onto his side. 

— What life? 

— Tired life. 

— I know how to fix that! — Mariam said, already tipsy, climbing onto Elvin. She sat on him and started bouncing slightly, placing her hands on his chest, then grabbing his hands and squeezing them. 

— Oh, what are you doing? — Elvin was surprised. —  You can’t do that—I haven’t even gotten over my ex yet! 

— Forget her, forget her! —  Mariam repeated, leaning closer. —  Let’s forget her together! 

Elvin bent his legs, slipped out from under her, and sat up. 

— Honestly, there’s no point thinking about her anymore. It’s over. Like it never happened. She’s pretty, but dumb as a rock. God, Mariam, you have no idea what a toxic person she was, it’s insane. Imagine this: you move to another country because someone promises you love, free housing, food, everything. You come like an idiot. And it’s all true, but at what cost. She threw away my phone, for starters, wouldn’t let me talk to anyone except her friends, and only if she was there. Otherwise she’d threaten to kick me out and I’d end up homeless or sent back. I couldn’t leave the house alone, ever—same threat. She could even tie me to the bed with a belt like a dog. And then she’d go out—work, parties—alone, of course. But then we’d have sex for hours and that was the only good part. I could’ve left anytime, but I thought it was love… idiot. I stayed until she finally hit me in the face. Only then I realized I had to change something. We fought, and she eventually told me she didn’t want to live with me anymore, so I said fine, leave. And she did. I’ve been renting alone ever since. 

— Idiot… — Mariam mumbled drunkenly. —  She lost a good guy. So you’re leaving? 

— Maybe. I might stay a month and then go back to Ireland, or earlier if I run out of money. I don’t plan things. I live however it goes. Screw plans. Maybe I won’t even be here tomorrow… or the day after. 

— No… that’s not true… — Mariam tried to comfort him, but it sounded almost hypnotic. —  You’ll stay. Everything will be fine. You have friends who won’t leave you. Don’t go, please, I’ll be sad… 

— Yeah… you’re right. Thanks. I’ve gotten so used to not having friends at all. I like it here in Georgia… I like it here. I like you. Let’s be together, okay? 

— Let’s be together, — Mariam replied, and fell asleep with her head on Elvin’s shoulder. 

Emi turned toward the wall on the empty bed and fell asleep too.