XIX. PLANETS
“I had started getting used to loneliness all over again. Mariam, the only person I still had left, either spent her evenings walking around with Salome or disappeared for an hour or two into that damn house of Vazha’s.”
Emi returned from university and finally decided to take out the large, thick blue folder lying at the bottom of a box. She unpacked it and began looking through its contents with amazement, as though she were seeing them for the first time.
“I brought this folder from my parents’ house half a year ago and haven’t opened it even once since then…” she recalled. “My entire inner world is stored in here. There are drawings inside — not academic drafts, but simple pictures of all sorts of houses that any child could understand. I had been drawing architecture since childhood. When I was only six years old, I invented my own city called Feings. Despite its colorful name, which sounded like something out of a fairy tale or a cartoon, the city itself was filled with ordinary Soviet apartment blocks, just like the ones I saw in my Moscow suburb. Every time I showed my mother those crooked drawings of buildings with funny silhouettes of residents peeking out the windows, she would tell me: ‘Looks like a little architect or city planner is growing up here!’ During my school years I invented new cities and even entire countries, gave them histories, kept chronicles of my worlds, drew maps, subway systems, and public transport schemes. My skills improved rapidly: I attended art school and often started drawing faces, people, and costumes, but architecture always remained the most fascinating subject in my art. Throughout my whole life this interest would fade away and then return again, but it never truly disappeared…”
In Emi’s hands were relatively recent works from when she was eighteen and nineteen years old. “I never showed them to Mariam. I never even showed them to Fleya or Sophie, let alone anyone else.”
She examined the first sheet of paper: a luxurious mansion styled after Victorian architecture, carefully and precisely illustrated, gleaming on the slightly damp page with bronze watercolor paint.
“Built in 1837 during the reign of Regent Victoria IV. A wealthy family with many servants once lived there, but after the revolution and the abolition of private property, the mansion was divided into rooms and rented out to the poor. In modern times it is being sold at auction.”
For every house she designed, Emi attached concise and compact descriptions whose style resembled the informational text of a washing machine or some other technical device. Emi was not a poet and did not write books, yet those dry, compact descriptions brought her immense pleasure.
She flipped through the papers one by one, gradually remembering everything.
“Right! Before leaving, I wanted to finish the royal palace of the Orkhos dynasty. I only made a pencil sketch and abandoned it. And what country was this even supposed to be?.. The last one I invented was probably Tsirada. Tsirada is an island-city-state between northern Japan and the Russian Far East… For centuries the island had existed under French protectorate and was called Boutarinque, though it had its own royal family sent from France. Between the 1820s and 1840s there was the ‘Most Radiant Reconstruction,’ when the dense labyrinthine city center was rebuilt, luxurious castles and palaces were erected, wide boulevards were laid out, public transportation was introduced — including the first subway in the world — while enormous networks of factories and plants were built along the outskirts. I think Boutarinque had already become one of the first million-population cities by then? Yes, and then in 1949 a revolution broke out! Independence was declared, they wanted to build communism, but it failed and the project was quickly abandoned. Tsirada took a capitalist path, economic growth exploded, and the country became one of the new ‘Asian Tigers,’” Emi recalled while looking over drawings of futuristic houses from the 1960s and 70s: capsule houses, honeycomb houses…
“If someone asked me what happened in my real life a year or a year and a half ago, I wouldn’t remember anything,” Emi thought, “but now, looking at these drawings, everything flashes before my eyes at once, every tiny detail comes back to me… I could probably even read this inscription in Tsiradan hieroglyphs and remember exactly how I invented all of it.”
Emi began working on the royal palace of the Orkhos dynasty, made a couple of hesitant strokes, but soon stopped.
“I feel so miserable and lonely!” she shouted at the wall. “I can’t take this anymore… I want to talk to at least one living soul right now!”
Emi’s hand somehow reached for her phone on its own. She called Fleya. The ringing went on for a long time, and Emi had already decided she would not answer, but suddenly she heard horrifying screams and moans of pain.
— A-ah! Ow! A-a-ah!
— Fleya, what’s wrong with you?! — Emi asked in terror.
— A-a-a-ah! It hurts! It hurts so much! They’re irradiating me!
— Irradiating you?! Fleya, what are you doing? Why would you do this?!
— No… no-o-o… just a little longer and it’ll be over. The doctors f-found the only way to make me human. Surgically. F-first they need to completely restructure my… organism into a human one, and only then remove all the f-f-functions connected to immortality and invisibility to humans… I don’t understand any of this. They’re supposed to replace all my skin. They’ve started filing down my wings, softening them with lasers so they’ll be easier to remove…
— Why haven’t you abandoned this insane idea yet? How can you endure such pain at all?
— I want to… live a full, vivid life… I’m a stranger… alien to everything… Only they can help me…
Emi hung up with unbearable fury and frustration.
“What the hell? What the hell are they doing to her? What the hell is she agreeing to this for?”
Emi sat there, twisting nervously, then collapsed onto the floor and burst into tears. For several hours she lay either asleep or delirious, crying out, “Fleya! Fleya!” imagining her gentle face, her piercing voice, her warm beautiful wings. Eventually she fell fully asleep.
And she dreamed she was in some luxurious garden, a floating garden in the heavens, stroking and kissing Fleya’s wings, and they were so soft, so delicate… Emi wrapped herself in them like a blanket, and it felt so pleasant, so sweet. She walked across a sunlit meadow, passed beneath an arch woven from flowers, and entered a place where paintings hung from every little tree. Strangely, in the dream Emi was deeply astonished by those paintings: they consisted only of gradient circles of different shapes and colors — pale green and gray, pink and violet, lemon fading into classic yellow and then orange… she remembered nothing more. She thought they represented planets: the first was a planet full of technology and ecological harmony; on the second emotions ruled and all its inhabitants were extremely sensitive; on the third there reigned some kind of wild anarchic energy and chaos — everyone constantly socialized, attended parties, and busied themselves with countless activities. And there were the gods! Emi turned away from the “exhibition” and saw before her an enormous gathering of colorful gods of every kind. All of them smiled, their faces expressing sincere joy. Somewhere in the crowd stood Fleya. Nearby danced a pair of unbelievably beautiful girls, holding hands and spinning in circles. Music played — a solemn classical symphony — and soon the gods themselves joined the dance. Then Emi suddenly thought: “This world feels strangely artificial… like a wound-up dollhouse.” She approached the edge of the floating garden, looked down, and saw a dark sky, torrential rain, thunder crashing, collapsed houses… She looked closer and realized it wasn’t lightning striking the earth — enormous red lasers were destroying it.
Emi woke up sometime around eleven in the evening with a headache, body aches, and sleepy eyes. She decided to wash up in the shower room to wake herself up at least a little. Then she went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water and see if there was anything to eat for dinner.
In the kitchen she found Mariam sitting there together with Vazha.
“How much longer is this going to go on?” Emi thought. “Alright, pull yourself together, pull yourself together! You just need to say hello and sit down. He’ll leave soon enough!”
Emi sat down and timidly said:
— Hi.
Vazha had been flirting with Mariam, but he turned toward Emi and greeted her back:
— Oh, Emi! Why do you look so disheveled?
Emi immediately grew irritated.
“And why do you look so disheveled? God, I can’t stand him, I really can’t!”
— I… was just sleeping, — she answered awkwardly.
— I got a call today offering me a collaboration, — Vazha continued. — What nonsense! I didn’t even bother meeting them. Haven’t gotten offers like that in a while, which means the name “Vazha” is still alive somewhere, in some circles at least. Anyway, it was some company advertising medical products, vitamins, pharmacy stuff… I don’t even remember exactly. How many times do I have to tell people that I work with musicians? Though honestly, what difference does it make? I have money already. I work for the soul. And my soul is your band.
— Oh wow, lucky you, — Mariam remarked sarcastically. — You don’t even need to work at all. Money just rains onto you because your father exists. At least buy yourself some clothes!
— I’m like Steve Jobs, — Vazha replied. — He wore the same thing every day too, and it didn’t stop him from being successful and respectable.
— I assume he owned different clothes in the same style. But since the day we met, I haven’t seen you wear anything else! I mean, I don’t really mind, but you smell! — Mariam said loudly and energetically.
— Alright, alright… I love it when you get all fired up like that! Makes me excited too. Don’t worry! I’ll buy myself perfume and new clothes, but only if you beg me even harder, since I’m so rich! And afterward we’ll go away somewhere together — maybe the Hawaiian Islands — and relax by the sea.
— Why don’t you just go home instead, dreamer? It’s already late. I need to sleep, and Emi needs to sleep too. You’re making her uncomfortable, Vazha. Look at her sitting there all tense. Alright, go on now, I’ll come tomorrow!
— Careful now, I might cut off your funding! — Vazha joked. — Fine, fine, I’m leaving, to everyone’s delight.
The moment Vazha was gone, Mariam and Emi remained sitting across from each other. Mariam looked at Emi and spread her hands slightly, as if to say: “Finally he’s gone…”
Emi finally gathered the courage to ask:
— So… are you and Vazha, like… dating?
Mariam nodded.
— Something like that.
— And how do you feel about him?
— I’m indifferent to him, Emi. You can call me awful if you want, but I genuinely feel nothing for him. He’s kind, funny sometimes… he loves me. I just wanted to feel loved.
— I understand… it was the same for me.
— It even feels strange comparing them. Sophie was such a good person, an ideal girlfriend! And you really loved her, at least in the beginning. But Vazha… I just can’t accept him! I can’t see a future with him.
— Then tell him that.
— I’m afraid things would become awkward between us. We still need him, after all. We’ve only just begun our journey as a band, and without Vazha we won’t get very far. You know, Emi, part of me even wishes he would dump me himself, but he never will. He’s insanely in love with me. Want some tea and cookies?
— Sure, make some… By the way, do you have plans for tomorrow?
— In the morning I’m going to see Vazha. He invited me over for some ridiculous reason, supposedly to help him move his synthesizers around. Though where exactly he wants to move them in that apartment, when every square meter is already buried in junk, I have no idea. Have you ever been to Vazha’s place?
— Never.
— I should take you there sometime… It’s practically a museum exhibit: the perfect garbage dump. Anyway, I’m going there in the morning. It’s unpleasant, of course, but I still want to get to know him better. Maybe something really could work out between us after all? Then, as soon as Salome gets out of school, I’m going to meet up with her. By the way, she said her dad disappeared yesterday — just ran away from home.
— I see, — Emi said sadly. — I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to go somewhere together…
— Only late in the evening, around eleven. Usually Salome and I part ways around then. Sorry, Emi. Maybe it’ll work out another time.
Emi struggled to fall asleep for a long time, having only recently woken from her evening nap, while Mariam fell asleep quickly. Somehow the next day arrived and passed in a blur.
In the morning Mariam briefly stopped by Vazha’s place, drank tea with him, and left.
— Alright then, see you later! — Mariam said goodbye.
— Wait, what about the synthesizers? — Vazha asked, standing among mountains of junk and dust. — You’re strong, come on, help me!
— No way, sorry, but even I can’t handle those synthesizers. They weigh like two hundred kilos.
At a quarter to three, Mariam had already met up with Salome. They ran toward each other — Mariam uphill, Salome downhill — and met somewhere in the middle.
Together they headed to a cosmetics and perfume store.
— Which ones do you like? Try these, they smell like strawberry cake, — Mariam suggested, holding out a perfume tester.
Salome brought it closer to herself.
— Nah, you know, they’re nice, of course, but the scent is kind of too sugary-sweet. Too cute, naive, childish maybe… I don’t think that’s really me.
— Yeah, you’re definitely not sugary-sweet, Salome. But maybe you think your punk style makes you seem rougher, while I find you unbelievably cute… Try these instead, “Tobacco and Vanilla.”
Salome fell in love with the fragrance. It was somehow both sweet and sharp at the same time, fresh and daring, something that burrowed into your head and stayed in your memory for a long time… Just like Salome herself.
As they walked out of the shop, she wondered aloud:
— I wonder how people see us together. Maybe they think we’re sisters?
— You know, sometimes it feels to me like you already are my little sister, — Mariam replied.
They stopped by a busy intersection turning onto Kote Afkhazi Street. Passersby stopped there too, and there was some involuntary delight visible on their faces. The perfume turned out to be incredibly strong: wherever Salome walked, the previous ten or even twenty steps behind her immediately filled with the scent, lingering for a long time in the frozen February air.
— God, I want to come to school tomorrow wearing perfume so badly… — Salome said.
— Yeah, I bet everyone will be pleasantly surprised, — Mariam answered. — By the way, you rarely tell me about school. Do you have anyone close there?
— There are two girls I talk to sometimes and occasionally go out with. Lately I don’t even do that anymore. But they’re not really my friends. I’m not very interested with them, and they aren’t very interested with me either… We can exchange a couple routine phrases, laugh about something, pretend we’re close friends, even though really they’re only close with each other. They’re not bad people, they’re just not really my people.
Just as the sun was beginning to set, Mariam and Salome stopped at a cafe to sit down and grab something to eat. It was an ordinary restaurant of average — maybe even slightly below average — quality, the kind of place where they could pour you tea and serve a few European dishes along with the most popular Georgian meals. They had only just sat down by a window overlooking the avenue when Mariam caught a familiar silhouette out of the corner of her eye. Emi?
They quickly got up from the table, turned around, and walked over to her. Emi was sitting alone with a deeply sorrowful expression, on the verge of tears.
— Emi, hi! — Mariam greeted her. Salome switched into uncertain English and greeted her too.
For some reason Emi couldn’t force a single word out of herself. Mariam felt ashamed, and Salome felt awkward. So they stayed like that for a while: one sitting, the other two standing over her and looking into her eyes. Finally Mariam asked:
— Can we, um… sit with you?
Emi nodded.
Mariam wanted to ask why she looked so miserable, but decided not to — she didn’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position. Emi began explaining on her own:
— Basically, I came home today hungry and sad. I sat around for a while, suffered a little, and decided to arrange something like a solo date for myself: have dinner at a restaurant, go to the movies, walk through the streets. I pushed away the person who once loved me, and now I’m left alone. Well… now I have to try to keep living somehow. But I can’t do it… The only times I’m calm are when I’m immersed in some activity or holding onto some abstract thought unrelated to my life. The moment I’m free again, this kind of emptiness and emotional silence crashes over me that makes me want to howl.
— Poor Emi… it’s okay, we’ll get through this together!
Mariam began comforting and pitying her as usual, though she already understood that in Emi’s state it was unlikely she’d really be able to soothe her. Salome fell silent, then said:
— My mom’s calling me… I need to do homework and help my sisters…
— You’re leaving? — Mariam asked.
— Yeah, — Salome answered, hugging her.
“Strange,” Mariam thought after saying goodbye to Salome. “It’s only around seven and she’s already leaving.”
— So now it’s just the two of us again, Emi, — Mariam said once they were alone. — And now I have time for you. I don’t like it here, it feels uncomfortable. Want to go somewhere together? Or do you still want to have dinner alone and go to the movies?
— Let me think… — Emi stalled for time. — I want to be with you.
They walked away together.
— Let’s just wander through the streets, — Mariam suggested. — Sit somewhere, talk, dream about something, like in the old days…
— Up to the trail?
They climbed up the hill, and Mariam said:
— Actually, maybe not? It feels awkward now that we know Salome lives there. I don’t want to distract her — let her rest from me a little. Maybe the garden instead?
— Okay.
Night somehow fell quickly. They sat down on the swings, both tilted their heads upward, and began gazing at the starry sky.
— Don’t be afraid, — Mariam suddenly said. — I’m always here.
Inside, Emi was surprised. “Afraid? I was just silently looking at the sky. Although… I really am afraid of something.”
— Thank you, — Emi said quietly, not knowing what else to answer.
— Honestly, I’d like to spend more time with you. You understand? Never let yourself think that you’re alone or unwanted. You matter to me!
— Really? — Emi grew even more flustered.
— Of course! You can always call me, text me, invite me somewhere, anytime you want. Lately I’ve been spending my evenings walking around with Salome. She comes from a really troubled family, and I feel this urge to take care of her, like I have to do it… though it’s still my own choice, what I want. I feel like I’m either her mother or at least her older sister. It hurts me that you’re suffering so much, Emi, because I don’t make enough time for you, because I can’t stay by your side. I’ll try to do better. You know, the three of us could hang out together sometimes.
— But… how? She doesn’t really understand English, you two speak Georgian. And honestly I feel like she doesn’t really want to talk to me that much.
— She does, — Mariam whispered. — She mentions you constantly in conversations, talks about how amazing you are. Did you forget? She adores “ANGELIC KISS,” and you — specifically you, not me — are the face of it to her! You sing! Without instruments, meaning without me, there can still be a song. But without you, it would just be a melody.
A modest smile appeared on Emi’s face and didn’t leave it for the rest of the day.
And when Mariam returned home, she checked her phone and saw that Salome had texted her:
— and do you know why i left early today?
i wanted you to spend time with emi
she misses you
as always thank you for the walk and those amazing perfumes love you 🖤
Mariam smiled quietly too and went to pack for the upcoming trip, thinking about Emi and Salome and thanking fate for bringing such wonderful people into her life.