XXI. TO THE SOUL
A cramped, stuffy dressing room inside an enormous concert hall.
— How’s your mood, Emi? — Mariam asked while spraying hairspray onto her thick black hair.
— Fine enough. Not perfect, of course, but I’m ready. I even kind of want to sing myself.
— That’s great! Everything’s going to work out for us, Emi!
— By the way… how many people are expected tonight?
— Around twenty thousand, I think. At least a really, really huge amount. This is our biggest performance so far.
— I still can’t believe we have that many fans. And that’s only in Berlin — and if you count Tbilisi, where most of them are, and the other cities too… How did it even happen that we became celebrities in just a month?
— Time to get used to the new reality, Emi, — Mariam said, pulling on her tights.
— Who’s drumming for us tonight?
— Kristi, the same one who played with us the time before last. She’s our permanent drummer now. She’s been in Berlin since last week — flew here with Gabi on the same flight. By the way… they’re dating now, I found out recently. That’s how “ANGELIC KISS” brings people together!
— Wow… lucky them, I wish them a happy life!
— Yeah! Also, honestly, I think Kristi both plays better than Elvin and looks better in the band.
Mariam finished getting ready. There was still quite a lot of time before the concert began, and she decided to call Salome.
— Hi, darling, how are you over there? Not too sad? Not lonely?
— Hi! I’m okay, sitting in the yard, drawing while listening to music. It’s so calm and quiet here… Mariko got really sick and fell asleep, the aunt is with the others. How are things with you?
— I’m amazed by you, Salome. So strong and resilient! You know, more than anything right now I’d love to come back home, come to you and hug you tightly, maybe even kiss you all over. Then we could go somewhere together — maybe the amusement park on Mtatsminda, do you like roller coasters? Or we could try karaoke again, or just walk through the evening city for hours telling each other stories, the way we usually love to. You know what, don’t even go to school for a whole week if you don’t want to — stay with me instead. I think after everything, you need a little rest.
A wide smile appeared on Salome’s small, delicate face, and her heart suddenly began beating faster.
— By the way, — Mariam continued, — what are you drawing?
— Drawing you, — Salome answered shyly, — because you’re my friend. Today I decided to draw portraits of the people I care about. For me, that’s you and my sisters. I don’t have a father or mother anymore.
— Me? Wow, that’s wonderful! Will you show it to me when I get back?
— Yeah, of course. I can even give the drawing to you.
— Thank you!.. We’re performing at a concert today — though you already know that, — Mariam switched to video call, showed herself, showed Emi and the dressing room around them. — I’m really nervous, but I’m sure everything will go wonderfully! It would be amazing if you could hear us live right here in Berlin. But there’ll definitely be a recording, and I’ll send it to you the moment I get it myself!
— Yeah… it’s a shame I’m not there with you. Maybe in four years I’ll be able to travel abroad with you guys!
— Maybe even sooner?
They talked a little longer, then Salome hung up and went back to drawing. Outside it was fresh, not cold at all, just slightly cool in an early-spring way. The sun had almost disappeared and the beautiful blue hour had arrived. The table standing beside her father’s garage wall was dimly lit by a single bulb, branches almost brushed against her face. Dog barking drifted out from the house, and the laundry — washed but never taken down by her mother — still swayed on the clothesline in the wind.
After finishing coloring Mariam’s large eyes black, Salome suddenly set down her pencil, looked around, and felt cold inside. Something pulled her outside, and without asking the aunt — who sat inside grimly reading fairy tales — she decisively walked out through the front gate.
Salome walked downhill. The next house, sharing a fence with theirs, had belonged to the murdered man. A freezing horror pierced her the moment she thought about her father.
“Aunt read online this morning exactly how he killed him, and then told me all about it. Why? Maybe I didn’t even want to know…”
Salome imagined her father driving a hammer into the neck of a submissive, strange man again and again. Then she imagined her father and uncle dismembering him in the shed, tying him up, stuffing him into a black bag, hauling him uphill in a cart along this very street, and then throwing him down the steep slope of Mtatsminda.
“I hate him, I hate him! — she repeated. — I hate him! Mom, why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you even get treatment, Mom!..”
She collapsed right onto the road and cried, then dusted herself off and continued walking downhill. Soon the old, completely abandoned house appeared, every window dark — the house Salome knew so well. Already certain nobody could possibly be inside, she knocked several times, then wandered sadly into the garden and sat on the swing. Without meaning to, her thoughts drifted away from her parents and back toward Mariam, and she smiled again faintly, like a tiny sun peeking out from behind heavy storm clouds. Only peeking out for now.
Mariam and Emi stepped onto the stage beneath the thunderous roar of an enormous crowd of unfamiliar faces. They planned to perform their entire discography from the very beginning of the band. The start of the performance passed like a blur.
Emi screamed the lyrics until her throat hurt without stopping, as if her body itself knew what word or line would come next, while Mariam, lost in the moment, tore at the strings of her electric guitar. Both of them were drenched in sweat, their legs weak and trembling, faces flushed bright red, thinking of absolutely nothing.
They even played a new unreleased song.
“I gently kissed my dearest friend
She shyly smiled at the end
We wanted to destroy the world together,
But first I want to take her hand!”
The song contained many more tender lines about the “friend”:
“Adore her handsome soul,
Adore her sweetness…”
“I honestly can’t remember whether I wrote it about Emi or Salome… or maybe both of them? — Mariam thought. — But I love this song so much.”
Emi sang with a faint, almost pleasant sadness in her soul and thought:
“I wonder if I’ll ever become the caring one instead of the one being cared for? Or maybe relationships exist where everyone is equal, instead of one person desperately pouring out all their love while the other becomes addicted to it like a drug? I guess Mariam makes me think about these roles… She really is a special person. Around her, only the second type can exist — people like me, Salome, Sophie… though Sophie is still stronger and more ‘giving’ than I am.”
Vazha, somewhere near the front rows, swayed along to the music, stared intently at the performers, and shouted encouragement whenever a song ended. He was still the only recognizable face in the crowd until Emi suddenly glanced upward.
She gasped in surprise, went pale, froze for several seconds, then caught up with the song again — but never quite regained her breath. Her voice had become shakier somehow, her movements stiffer, and her eyes kept lifting and dropping again.
“Fleya? But how?!”
Fleya was standing like a human being, on two legs, instead of floating somewhere in the air like before.
Mariam looked too, became deeply unsettled, but kept playing without showing even the slightest sign that anything strange was happening. Emi stared carefully at the goddess and, to her horror, realized Fleya no longer had wings: the skin where they had been was tightly bound up.
“Fleya will never be able to fly again!” Emi thought in shock. “How horrifying!”
Carefully, she showed Mariam the “zero” sign with her thumb and index finger. Long ago, just in case, they had agreed that this exact gesture would mean the performance had to stop immediately if one of them suddenly became unbearably unwell.
Mariam nodded. Emi somehow dragged herself through the rest of the song, thanked the audience, announced the end of the concert, and quickly disappeared backstage together with the other members of “ANGELIC KISS.”
— What the hell was that? — the audience murmured. — It’s only been thirty minutes, they barely played half the set!
— Maybe it’s just an intermission?
— Then why did they leave so suddenly and nervously?
— I think Emi clearly got sick or something. At one point she looked completely drained!
— But why couldn’t they just finish and leave normally?
— Come on, let’s not judge them! If they stopped, there must’ve been a reason! If they want to explain it, they’ll probably post something on Instagram later.
The crowd slowly began to disperse, while Fleya stepped onto the stage and slipped backstage.
“There’s also some unfamiliar girl and guy with them!” she panicked. “How embarrassing… this is all my fault, I ruined everything, I frightened them!”
Emi, Mariam, and the two others sank into awkward silence. And when Fleya squeezed herself into the already claustrophobic room, the atmosphere became even more uncomfortable.
Emi nearly bumped into her as she entered and whispered:
— Let’s step outside for a couple of minutes!
Then Emi turned toward the others and said loudly:
— I’ll be back in a moment, sorry, I need the bathroom… I’ve got my period.
Mariam, hearing Emi’s whisper and seeing Fleya, immediately understood she had to play along.
— Yeah, of course… we’ll wait for you.
Emi rushed out.
— There are still people in the hall! We need to get farther away! — she said anxiously, pulling Fleya along behind her.
Passing security guards with worried expressions, they hid somewhere behind the trees.
— Fleya, poor Fleya! You understand you can’t go back to that clinic anymore, you have to come home with us! — Emi shook the goddess by the hand.
— No, Emi, no! I need to finish all the operations first, I can’t abandon everything halfway through!
— What are you doing to yourself?! You’re destroying yourself!
— It’ll be better for me this way, believe me! You want me to be happy, don’t you?
— Of course I do! And that’s exactly why you need to stop them from carving away the last scraps of happiness together with your divine skin! — Emi burst out furiously. — Believe me, please, I’m right!
— If that’s what you want, then leave me alone and let me decide my own life for myself!
— Don’t you understand that what you’re doing is… madness?!
— If you call my dream, my aspiration, madness, then fine, let it be madness! Emi, the doctors say everything will be finished in just a few months. Then I’ll come back to you, and we’ll live together like human with human!
— I don’t want to live with you like human with human! I only want you, Fleya — a goddess, huge, warm and gentle, with shining pink skin and magnificent wings that, you idiot, you’ve already gotten rid of!
— Don’t call me that!
— Just imagine if I wanted to turn from a human into a mouse! I’d go to clinics, get surgeries, beg them to replace my brain with a mouse’s. And what would come out of it in the end? Some kind of freakish misunderstanding! How can a higher being seriously strive to become something lesser?
— What do you mean by “higher being”?
— I mean that you’re more perfect than us humans! I could die any moment and, if I’m lucky, live maybe another eighty years at most. You’ll live for eternity, and if you ever want to end your own life — fine, you can do it whenever you want! You can learn endless amounts of knowledge, read every book in the world, talk to every person on the planet. Humans can only dream of the things you’re capable of by birth! Even after cutting off your wings, you’ve barely lost anything yet — your possibilities are still practically limitless, except that now you walk on two legs instead of flying! So stop already! Please understand!
Eventually they grew tired of continuing the pointless argument and parted ways, both hurt by the other.
Emi twitched nervously on the way back, kicking bottles lying across the pavement. When she returned backstage, she found Mariam incredibly irritated, complaining to Vazha sitting beside her:
— The first “ANGELIC KISS” tour crashed and burned… I can already imagine what people are going to write online. Ah, screw the internet — what really matters is how upsetting this is for me! That Fleya suddenly appeared like something out of a horror movie, I actually jumped! No, I would’ve kept performing, but Emi… she’s so vulnerable, God, how is she supposed to survive all this? She loved her so intensely!.. How can anyone watch Fleya carving herself apart piece by piece?!
— Wait… so your goddess actually exists after all?.. — Vazha asked in astonishment.
Emi, Mariam, and Vazha, all wearing dissatisfied expressions, went back to the hotel. They spent the rest of the day lazily: stuffing themselves at the buffet, then swimming in the spa area, trying several kinds of saunas and getting Thai massages.
Emi fell asleep in her room rather quickly, while in the room next to hers Mariam and Vazha had sex for the first time.
The orgasm mixed with disgust. Mariam kept waiting for at least some tenderness from him, but that word was incompatible with Vazha: they didn’t even kiss, he unconsciously dominated her roughly, and finished within a few minutes. His penis was crooked, unbelievably long and thin, just like Vazha himself.
“Ah…” Mariam thought sadly afterward. “I shouldn’t have said Kristi was better than Elvin. It was so much better with Elvin… at least in bed.”
— Thank you, — Mariam thanked Vazha out of politeness. — Good night…
The next morning they were relaxing in the spa again.
— We have to leave in five minutes… and I really don’t want to. I don’t want to go anywhere, — Mariam said sadly while sitting in the hammam.
— It’s fine, the main thing is to cheer up a little. Maybe grab a cocktail at the bar and everything will feel better! — Vazha reassured her.
— Honestly, I’m terrified of awkward questions about yesterday… By the way, Vazha, are you coming with us to the interview or not?
— Oh, with your permission, I’ll stay here and rot in the hotel! I’m so tired for some reason!
“That’s wonderful,” Mariam admitted to herself.
She took Emi and went off with her to change clothes.
— Nervous, Emi? — Mariam asked.
— A little… more excited than nervous.
Soon they arrived at the studio smiling — a small room with gray walls, a table, and all sorts of musical junk scattered around. The interviewer was a young man barely in his twenties with pleasant features and a warm voice. He was a huge music fan.
He greeted them, chatted casually for a bit, then began:
— The quarterly competition “The Rising Star of Alternative Music Scene” selected Emi as the best vocalist of the ending winter through public voting. This is the first time in the past five years that German listeners have chosen a foreign artist. My warm congratulations! Emi, what did this victory feel like for you?
Mariam turned toward Emi with admiration.
— Thank you… thank you, — Emi answered, smiling and nervously squeezing her fingers together. — You know… when I started realizing this growing popularity, and especially when I found out about winning the competition, I began to feel like my usual world was collapsing — but in a good way. Things that used to seem important gradually stop carrying the same weight. There’s this constant background feeling that people are watching you, admiring you. It still feels very unusual and, honestly, I still can’t believe that someone considers me the best. Thank you to all our listeners and everyone who contributed to our victory — not just mine, but ours together!
— Thank you, Emi! Yes, those words about a “shared victory” are very meaningful. Mariam, as the leader of the group, you’ve obviously contributed greatly to it as well! What does “ANGELIC KISS” personally mean to you?
— For me, — Mariam began, — “ANGELIC KISS” is a huge part of my life. Something deeply valuable, personal, sincere. It’s a cry of the soul, an explosion of my feelings, insane joy and euphoria from every performance, every line, every person who comes to listen and watch… I could talk for a very long time about what the band means to me, but it’s probably better to stop at this: it’s a reflection of my soul.
— Then you must have a beautiful soul if its reflection looks like that! Well then, let’s start from afar: what kind of music do you like? Maybe you were inspired by someone?
— I listen to all sorts of music, but above all I love old gothic rock: Siouxsie and the Banshees, Evanescence especially. I also listen to a lot of modern music. I love emotional female vocals, like our Emi’s.
— Many listeners point out that your music sounds old school, as if the sound of the eighties had been transported into our twenties. How do you feel about those comparisons?
— Maybe it’s more accurate to say it found a second life? Honestly, I’m not really used to being compared to anyone, but… I think it’s not a bad thing.
— Now a broader question: what is your music about, in the widest sense?
— Every song is about something a little different, but there are two core elements: love and suffering. I don’t have to search far for inspiration — I write whatever’s in my soul. And I’m happy that it speaks to the soul for other people too!
— Could you elaborate a little? Would it be fair to say that those two elements, as you called them, appear in your lyrics in very multifaceted ways? For example, what is love to you? Some of your earlier songs were full of romance, physical love, sexuality, while the more recent ones feel more spiritual, more about the inner world, platonic, friendly. You describe love for a female friend very tenderly, while still emphasizing that she’s a friend rather than a romantic partner. A lot of people experience dissonance over that: can love even exist like that? Forgive the bluntness, but would you say this is personal growth, or has something radically changed in your life? If so, I’d be very grateful if you decided to open up a little.
— I think it’s growth. Though quite a lot really has changed in my life.
— You know, like many others, I’m a fan not only of your music but also of your performances. I’ll admit it — I’ve watched every recording, and yesterday I attended the concert in person. Every single time I’m amazed! Every movement is so mesmerizing! I especially love the way you and Emi flirt with each other on stage. How do you manage to be so enchanting?
— Ha, — Mariam laughed, — the secret is simple! Never plan what we’re going to do on stage, and think about it as little as possible. I step onto the stage, completely lose myself, and release all my energy, all my passion. I just follow my impulses in the moment. And that’s something Emi and I have in common! She does the same thing.
The interviewer asked Emi a few more questions, thanked them warmly, and politely said goodbye.
The girls left the studio and headed to an underground club to celebrate the finished concert and interview at some rave.
— Finally! — Mariam exhaled. — We’re free now, the next two days are pure rest!
— Yeah, — Emi answered, — good thing nobody asked why we suddenly disappeared yesterday.
— You thought about that too? And I was so happy you won some German competition! And people chose you themselves — not because Vazha bribed someone — which means people genuinely love us! And that’s the most valuable thing of all!