XI. SWEET FLEYA
On the first of January, the whole country wakes up in the evening and eats breakfast for lunch. The fridge is bursting with stale salads, and a tower of dirty dishes piles up in the sink. It was the same in the house on Mtatsminda. Vakhtang hadn’t returned, and Tamara could finally feel at peace at least once a year: she didn’t have to rush in the morning to cook or clean, didn’t have to hear shouting or sweet but disgusting forms of address.
Sophie and Emi were slowly getting ready to go out somewhere.
— Ugh, I really don’t want to go out! — Emi complained, pulling on her tights.
— Cold? Put on something warmer, my love! — Sophie replied. — I’m sure we’ll be warm anyway, at least we have sweet Fleya to warm up against. I would stay home too, but today outside feels kind of magical… I don’t know why, but every New Year feels like it takes me back into a fairy tale and childhood.
— Yeah, that’s true. Alright, now I want to go too, let’s go! By the way, Sophie, don’t forget to take the camera I gave you for the walk.
They listened to the sounds outside the window. A children’s Soviet winter song was playing, and kids were running around nearby.
Mariam and Elvin also slept in and were lazily getting ready, but in their house there were no stale salads, no tower of dirty dishes, no Soviet vibe, only a slightly flickering LED strip still giving off a New Year feeling, while outside the sounds of passing people were rare. In the evening there were really few of them, as if after an apocalypse.
Elvin knocked on the bathroom door:
— Mariam, why are you taking so long?
— Mouth! — Mariam shouted through the wall. — You also spent half an hour in the shower! Alright, I’m coming out.
— At least check out my outfit, first one this year, I made a new hoodie.
The violet sky slowly turned dark blue, black leaves lay underfoot, and patches of melting snow cracked beneath them. Sophie, Emi, and Fleya met Elvin and Mariam on Mtatsminda near the house. They went to the park as planned.
— Maybe we should sit in a cafe for a bit, — Sophie suggested. — I really want hot tea, sea buckthorn tea. My mom used to make it for me when I was a child and it was cold.
They sat at a table overlooking a luxurious view of the city.
— Sophie, take a selfie, please! — Emi asked. — Let’s all go to this side, Fleya, come here too!
— I wonder if I’ll be in the photo? I’m invisible to people after all.
Sophie clicked her Polaroid, and a blurry, smeared picture came out. But Fleya was there in it.
— Yay! Yay! — she exclaimed. — I’m there! Maybe people I’ve touched can see me on film too.
Then they went to the roller coasters.
— Sorry, — Mariam said, — you need to be strapped in for the ride…
Fleya dimmed slightly and replied:
— Alright, I’ll wait for you on the ground. I hope you enjoy it!
— Thanks! It’s okay, Fleya!
They sat in pairs in the cabins: Emi and Sophie, Mariam and Elvin. The ride made a loop.
— Aaaah! — everyone screamed at the same time.
— That was amazing! — Sophie said as she got out. — Alright, Fleya, come with us, we’re going on the Ferris wheel now!
They approached it, and Fleya settled on Mariam’s lap, folding her spine and head. The wheel was enormous. On one side, the city stretched out like a map covered in warm evening lights; on the other, a steep bare slope.
— How wonderful! And somewhere there is our home, — Sophie said, pointing into the distance.
Elvin, sitting opposite her, looked the other way.
— Look, — he said thoughtfully, — on that slope, it’s hard to see, but there’s some big dark patch, lit up by lamps, and people are moving around it.
— What do you think it is? — Mariam asked.
— Maybe someone fell and crashed? Poor people, right on New Year’s night… that cliff is really steep.
— Okay, let’s not talk about that, — Sophie interrupted. — Maybe you just imagined it. Look to the right instead, it’s prettier there.
At that time, Tamara was sitting alone again. Suddenly someone knocked on the door.
“Strange… who could that be?” — she thought. — “Only Vakhtang and the girls come into this house, they have keys.”
Tamara opened the door. In front of her stood a slim elderly woman in a police uniform, with a serious expression on her face, and a shaggy grey-haired old man reeking of alcohol.
— Let’s go to the kitchen and sit down, — the woman said.
— Who are you? — Tamara asked.
— I’m from the police, and I’ve come to inform you of something… I’m very sorry, but… your husband, Vakhtang Koharidze, was found dead on a steep mountain slope near your house. It appears to have been an accident — he fell off a cliff. Please accept my deepest condolences.
Tamara stared into her eyes in silence, then lowered her head and quietly began to cry.
— Let the witness of the tragedy describe what happened, — the woman said. The man began speaking.
— Tamara. I’m very sorry for your loss, I myself lost my, uh-uh, friend and… I sincerely offer my condolences. We were drinking… vodka, chacha, we got very drunk, Vakhtang suddenly ran and fell, it all happened very quickly and was terrifying, he was screaming that he saw some kind of monster in the sky. Before that he was also talking about monsters, about seeing strange things, he said I was sick in the head. In short, a terrible situation. I’m very sorry, Vakhtang was a wonderful person.
Tamara sat there, staring at one fixed point somewhere below the table, and asked in a doubtful voice:
— So he fell and died?
— Yes. I’m very sorry again, and… I understand how painful this is, — replied policewoman. — I don’t know if it will make you feel any better, but the funeral will be held at the cemetery in Vera the day after tomorrow.
— Thank you, — Tamara sighed heavily. — Well… I hope he finds peace.
At that moment, the front door opened. It was Emi and Sophie with Fleya.
— “Finds peace…” — Emi whispered quietly while taking off her shoes. — Who is that about?
They froze in the hallway and came face to face with strangers — the policewoman and the old man. Tamara looked at them, then down at the floor, covered her face with her hand, and stopped moving.
— Oh God… — she whispered. — Vakhtang is dead.
Emi and Sophie stared at each other with shocked expressions. Fleya curled up, began to cry, and lowered her wings.
— Is it my fault that he died? — she asked. — Does that mean I killed him?
— Fleya, poor thing, what are you saying? — Sophie stepped closer and straightened her tangled wing. — Of course it’s not your fault. How could you even think that?
— Is it because I touched him and he got scared?
— Just think about how many people have already seen you? — Emi replied, gently stroking her soft skin. — What, are they all supposed to jump off cliffs now? No, he was just very drunk.
— Do you really think I’m not guilty?
— Really, really. Are you ready for our trips? To Kakheti and to the mountains? It’s all very soon!
Fleya smiled and spread her wings again.
Below them, Tamara was loudly speaking with Vakhtang’s child’s mother.
— How did he die?
— He died like that! You need to take the boy and take care of him, because you are his mother.
— Take him where?
— Home! What kind of mother are you?
— I gave him to Vakhtang ten… years ago. And he has long stopped belonging to me. So he should be sent to an orphanage!
— What orphanage are you talking about, have you lost your mind? Do you think a child with a living mother should rot in an orphanage? If you don’t come and take him properly, I will report you to the police and they will sort it out!
The line disconnected.
The child jumped out of bed and asked: “What mother?”
Tamara started crying and could not answer.
The next day Mariam set an alarm and woke Elvin up with it.
— What the hell! — he exclaimed. — Why the alarm, it’s only January 2nd!
Mariam quickly came out of the shower, pacing back and forth in the cramped room with wet hair, waiting for it to dry, nervous and clearly worried about something.
— I have to meet our producer today, discuss some details about the idea for our music video, the one we’re going to shoot together, I arranged it… today at 1 o’clock, — she said breathlessly, stumbling over her words.
— Hey, hey, calm down please, you’re too nervous, just sit on the couch, — Elvin replied.
— I. Am. Going. To the producer. Today. Got it? — Mariam raised her voice.
— And what if I don’t let you go to him?
— And what exactly do you mean by “don’t let me”? — Mariam answered sharply and angrily. — Am I supposed to ask permission to get proper production for our, by the way, shared creative project?
— Please understand me. I’m not trying to restrict you in any way, you have to realize that yourself. Vazha can’t provide services for free. You can help someone on the street for free — carry a bag, give up your seat on the metro — but not produce a band and take it, as he said, into the charts. He’s in love with you. He keeps approaching you, bothering you, sending you money, wanting your attention. Maybe this is new information for you, but I have no doubt it’s true. And since I’m also in this band with you, I can refuse this kind of arrangement because I consider it… not reasonable.
— Now you understand me. I, as the leader of this band, as its founder and author of the idea, am not going to give up Vazha, because I consider his work reasonable! And why do you think that because we’re dating, I can’t be liked by anyone else? Am I your property or something? Maybe you’ll lock me in a dungeon so you can just admire me? And by the way, just a reminder — Emi still likes me, I’m sure of it. Sophie likes me too, or at least used to, it’s been too long. So what, I’m not allowed to talk to them either?
— Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Can I just ask you… to take me with you?
Mariam sighed deeply.
— Fine, Elvin. We’ll go together. But please don’t talk nonsense to Vazha. We are just working partners, and we will never be anything more than that, I assure you! Or do you think I would even be friends with someone who is drug addicted?
Vazha lived near the Vazha-Pshavela metro station, in a massive concrete panel building. When they entered the apartment, Mariam looked absolutely shocked. The walls in every room were painted coal-black, all kinds of junk and trash were scattered everywhere, mixed with valuable objects. The originally spacious bedroom no longer felt spacious because it was completely filled with musical instruments: along one wall stood a long antique piano covered with books and papers, along another — a drum kit, in the corner a double bass, a huge golden trumpet. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, an acrid grey dust that hung over the objects like clouds in the sky.
— Wow, where did you get all these instruments, bro? — Elvin asked jokingly.
— Father… I’ll tell you just one word, — Vazha replied. — He left me this magnificent collection.
— That’s great, but what do we get in exchange for promotion?
— In exchange… maybe you’ll say a big thank you and agree to take me with you on a world tour and even give me a VIP seat, — Vazha rattled on quickly.
— Let’s go to the kitchen, honestly, we can’t sit here, the dust is choking us, — Mariam said with a smirk.
They moved to the kitchen, which was no less dusty, but at least had a window. However, dirty plates with dried food were everywhere.
— Make yourselves comfortable, — Vazha smiled politely. — Feel at home.
— Yes, yes, thank you…
— What’s new? How is the work going?
— We recorded a new song recently. You probably haven’t heard it, because we haven’t performed it yet.
— I’m listening, — Vazha replied with raised hands. — I’m all yours!
— I can show you a couple of lines:
“Look at me with naked thighs,
It will be a pure confession
You just need to get it right:
Loving is my strongest passion!”
— Mariam sang in a low, slightly hoarse voice. — Yeah, Emi would probably do it better.
— You’re good too. I like girls with low voices. You and Emi should sing as a duet.
— You think so?
— Yeah, that would be better. Your lyrics are simple, but your sincerity makes up for it, and that’s what matters. That’s what people value now. Are you planning to make an album?
— Yes, I am, but I haven’t thought of a title yet. I want it to be united by general themes: feelings, pain, love, attachment. Maybe it’s cliché, but… I want to write what I know, what feels close to me, — Mariam said with a sparkle in her eyes.
— And you’re actually good at writing “clichés.” Trust me, that’s much better than pseudo-intellectualism, complicated metaphors the author doesn’t even understand themselves. Nowadays the trendiest creative method is what’s called “free flow”: I see it, I show it, I feel it, I sing it, — Vazha said with a sweet smile, wriggling in his chair, trying to please Mariam. If a so-called “pseudo-intellectual” had been sitting there, he would have praised their “complex metaphors” just as much, swearing they were trendy and relevant.
— By the way, we’re going to shoot the music video in that fortress, Kvetera, I think… is it some kind of significant location?
— No, just a picturesque place: beautiful nature, luxurious ancient architecture. That kind of thing sells well now — people like something historical, but alive and fresh.
— I’d like to consult you, as someone who understands art… I want to appear naked in the video. The narrative of the song is about physicality, sexuality… and I think we should remove the taboo around healthy sexuality. It’s simply beautiful. And it’s something that unites people… We are all different, but we all have bodies that feel, that need touch, love, and care. And I want to show that through myself, through my body.
— Won’t you get cold in winter? — Vazha replied with a smirk, saying nothing more.
He offered to stay and drink tea, but the guests refused — the place was too uncomfortable.
— Alright, we should probably go, — Mariam said awkwardly. — Maybe we’ll meet again later, thanks.
— Come again, come again!
Mariam and Elvin headed back to the metro. They walked between concrete apartment blocks and colorful billboards, along broken pavement. The warm sun was shining brightly and the snow was melting.
— Yeah… so this is how the creative class lives, — Elvin said. — our room is pure luxury compared to that place.
— Yeah, a real paradise on Earth! I wonder when that apartment was last cleaned. Maybe back when “legendary” Konstantin Gelashvili was there, or did he start the whole “dump-style living” trend?
— By the way, who is that?
— You seriously don’t know? He’s the most famous Hollywood actor of Georgian origin, a billionaire. That’s why Vazha has so much money.
Sophie and Emi slept in late. They woke up, lingered a bit, and had porridge and jam sandwiches for breakfast. It was already evening, and Sophie asked:
— Fleya, are we going to the furniture store? Are you coming with us?
— I’m coming, — Fleya said, as if warmed by those words.
They entered a Scandinavian furniture store. It was large, multi-storey, lit with greenish fluorescent light, resembling a maze where endless shelves merged into each other: beds into tables, tables into wardrobes, wardrobes into Christmas trees, decorative plants, small statues, kitchenware. They were looking for a new lamp because the old one had burned out, and recently they could only light the room with candles, which gave a very dim light.
— Let’s not buy a lamp, but LED strips like Mariam and Elvin have? I think it would be cool, — Sophie suggested.
— Let’s do it, — Emi replied. — Great idea. Put it in the basket.
They walked further and saw an empty flat trolley meant for carrying boxes.
— Emi, hop on, I’ll push you! — Sophie said happily.
Emi smiled, sat down cross-legged and leaned back against the side.
— Fleya, do you want too? — Sophie asked. — How many kilos do you weigh?
— About twenty.
— Perfect, then sit down, you’re just right!
Fleya curled up in the center, wrapped by Emi’s legs. Sophie ran and pushed the trolley; they rode through the whole floor, turning corners, and eventually crashed into a refrigerator.
— What are you doing, stop! — a store employee shouted.
— Alright, okay, we’re leaving, — Sophie said out of breath.
Sophie lit a candle in the room and placed an unopened LED strip on the table.
— Let’s postpone it until tomorrow and rest today… I’m too lazy, — she suggested.
— Okay, — Emi agreed.
— By the way, Emi… since we’re not opening the strip today, maybe we open your New Year’s gift?
— Sure, — Emi smiled coyly and took out a vibrator box.
— Emi, have you had experience?
— No, never.
— Even better! — Sophie said happily, tearing off the plastic wrap. — We’ll make your first time the best… just need to figure out how it works.
Everything was very gentle, romantic, and sensual.
— I love feeling your body, Emi… — Sophie confessed. — We finally did it!
Emi moaned with pleasure. Fleya lay there pretending to sleep, trying not to hear anything. She turned to the other side, and Sophie noticed.
— Hey, sweet Fleya, you’re not asleep? — she whispered.
— No, — Fleya answered shyly.
— Want to join us? Emi, what do you think?
— I’m in, — Emi said, aroused.
Fleya joined them. She didn’t even need to undress; she was always naked anyway. She came closer and sat beside them, touching them with her fingers.
— Ah! — Sophie moaned. — It feels so hot! Fleya, your fingers are so wide!
Then Fleya lay between Sophie’s legs and began to lick her, while Emi touched Fleya. It went on for a long time, until they drained each other of all their strength. Eventually they lay down to sleep, all three of them embracing each other.