Шрифт:
A medical student in Tallinn meets a young Estonian girl. Passionate love flares up between them. However, the disaster of the ferry "Estonia" separates them, as it seemed forever. But their love turns out to be stronger than death.
Now, to go to Estonia, you need a Schengen visa. And in Soviet times there was one country without borders and barriers, and to get to Tallinn it was enough to get to Moscow (the capital of the USSR), take a train or plane bound for the capital of Soviet Estonia, and even then it was believed that you were abroad.
We met at the Fox Hole restaurant. We have heard about this original Tallinn establishment for a long time. It was located in the basement of a medieval house, near the famous Vana Thomas (old Thomas) tower. Everything here was imbued with the spirit of the medieval Baltic: stone walls, flickering candles, dishes with an abundance of meat, waitresses in national clothes – all this created a pleasant cozy atmosphere. After a couple of glasses of wine, we relaxed, and when the cheerful music started, many of us started dancing.
Greetings in Estonian were heard everywhere:
– Tere (Hello)
– Tere homigut, – sounded in response.
Suddenly, a mid this Estonian polyphony, I heard:
– Why aren't you dancing? Aren't you having fun?
I turned around and by the light of the candles I could make out a young lady in narrow glasses and long red hair. She spoke very good in Russian, which was not typical for the local youth, but her correct Russian also had a Baltic accent, pleasant for my ear.
– Are you bored? Come on, I'll cheer you up quickly.
I certainly could not refuse such an invitation.
– When ladies invite gentlemen, gentlemen cannot remain indifferent, – I answered and we went to dance.
However, very soon the fast music turned into a slow romantic melody, and now we embraced and began to perform tango. Her fiery red hair exuded a subtle scent of delicious shampoo interspersed with the scent of a clean body that had just come out of the shower.
– What is your name?
Well, since we are so close that we smell each other, then it's time to get to know each other names.
– My name is Svana.
– What an interesting name. Absolutely unfamiliar to me.
– It is very rare and not Estonian at all.
– And what?
– Norwegian.
– You surprise me! Where did the Estonian get the Norwegian name? And what does it mean?
– Oh, it's a long story. Better tell me what's your name?
– My name is also unusual, already for your ear.
– Nothing, nothing. Speak. I am capable. I'll catch it.
– My name is Harutyun.
– Sounds original! Is it real Armenian?
– Certainly not Norwegian.
– And not Estonian.
We started laughing together and I realized that the acquaintance took place.
– Listen, Harutyun! Let's go sit at our table, and at the same time we'll chat about our names.
It was said so naturally that I did not dare to refuse my new acquaintance.
We came to a table at which two adults were already sitting – a man and a woman.
– Meet! These are my parents. Father's name is Alexander, and mother's name is Ingrid. Mom, dad is Harutyun. We just met him.
– Very nice! Have a seat. Would you like something to eat?
– No thanks! Not hungry. We had such a hearty lunch here.
– And a drink?
– I will not refuse.
The waitresses quickly brought me a cutlery and a glass, and Alexander poured me red wine. He was a puny bald man with pointed features and the pretty fox face of Svana resembled his father. But the red hair – it was the color from Ingrid's mother.
– Well, tell Harutyun. As I have noticed, you have come from afar and not alone, but with a campaign.
I began to tell who we are and where we are from. Svana and her father listened attentively, but Ingrid was not, and I realized that she did not understand Russian well. The confirmation of my guess was that Alexander sometimes leaned over to her and expounded what I had already said.
– Mom understands Russian very badly.
– I already understood that.
–She’s actually Norwegian.
– So that's where you got your Norwegian name!
– But my dad is Russian, although he lived in Tallinn all his life. And his surname is Russian – Morozov.
– So you are Svana Aleksandrovna Morozova. Sounds impressive, like Grieg's melody "Morning, Peer Gyunt" mixed with Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" ballet.
– Wow! And you hit the very spot and not even warm, but directly hot.
– In what sense? What do you mean?
– Let's talk about it elsewhere, in a more private setting.
I began to like Svana more and more. Her ease, smile and complete absence of the Baltic coldness was very conducive to communication.
– I'm not against. But I don't know the city, so the choice is yours.
– There is one quiet place where jazz is played. Do you like jazz?
– Not so crazy, but I like it.
– Let's go then. Mom, Dad – we disappear, don't be bored. And you say goodbye to yours company.
When we flopped into the taxi, the cars were broadcasting a cheerful Armenian song performed by a famous pop artist on the radio.