Arina had always been this way. Her parents lived in a private sector on the outskirts of Vladimir. It was paradise, pure and simple. They had a vegetable garden and their own livestock. It would have been a real heaven if not for their daughter. Who could say why she had turned out to be so strange? Her mother used to call her crazy. She once yelled at Arina to stop giving her a hard time, but Arina just stood there, in the middle of their large backyard surrounded by a wooden fence, scowling at her mother, pressing their loud rooster named Petya close to her chest, screaming, "No! Don't kill him!"
"But he's old!" her mother swung her arms. "What the hell am I supposed to do with him? Should I start paying him a pension?"
"It's not Petya's fault that he's old! Grandma's old too. Should we use her for soup?" Arina gave her mother a sullen look as if she were an enemy of the state and traitor of the motherland. Since her mother had retired, her parents' farm had grown. They had chickens, piglets for sale, goat's milk and eggs. Both her mother and her father literally cheered up, plunging headlong into the idea of sustainable living. There was a time when they bred rabbits but Arina took their killing too close to heart as if she were the one being killed and stripped of her valuable fur. Eventually, her parents had to give up the idea.
On the other hand, Arina happily looked after their goat, fussed over the chicks like a child over a new toy, and collected eggs. Everything was fine until the next incident when their daughter would start giving them a hard time again, like the time when Arina, crying her eyes out, refused to eat pork chops made from her "best friend," a piglet named Grishka, one she couldn't save.
"He knew how to smile!" Arina gave her mother a piercing glance that would make your heart clench. Pale, with her messy black hair, she was burning her mother alive with her scorching blue eyes. Yes, she was definitely odd. In olden days, people used to say that two birthmarks were a mark of the devil, especially if they were on your face. Arina spoke with the animals as if they were her friends, as if she could understand their language.
"Who? Who knew how to smile?" her mother said through clenched teeth. Her father, in the meantime, was choking down a chop made from Arina's "friend," a delicious chop with mushroom gravy.
"Grishka did. He almost knew how to talk!"
"I wish you were friends with people!" her mother snorted.
"You still eat store-bought ground meat," Arina's father remarked with sarcasm, piling a third pork chop made "from Grishka" on his plate. "You're not a vegetarian."
Arina knew that it wasn't her parents' fault. Everyone lived the way they did, and they lived like everyone else. No one looked at a pig as a living creature. That's what living in the country was like. People were more cynical. They perceived reality in a simpler and no doubt healthier way than those who lived in the city. Piglets were basically just pork chops and meat jelly that ran around the backyard and didn't require space in the fridge.
That's why Arina left.
That's why she spent every third night in the white tiled reception at the veterinary clinic on Krasnoselskaya Street, taking care of cats vomiting up swollen wool and dogs bitten by ticks to avoid arguing with anyone, to avoid offending anyone.
At that moment, Arina realized that she had hurt the photographer, the one of whom she had dreamt. What was she dreaming of? Disturbing, confusing images flew through her mind, his tight lips opening, getting closer to her lips, his tangled bangs tickling her face, his intense gaze making her heart beat faster. The future that she had imagined, fuzzy like a watercolor of your favorite fairy tale, made Arina very excited. Every time she thought of his face, her mouth went dry and her cheeks blushed red.
Arina was still crying. She was still running madly down the street, but she already felt sorry for what she had done. He spoke to her. Why did he speak to her? He noticed her. The thought burned her like a fire and made her stop.
She wondered when exactly he had noticed her, in the semi dark room with the TV, or even earlier, on the first floor when he was staring at her from behind his sunglasses? What did he think about when he saw her? How funny and clumsy she looked in her sneakers? What an ugly and tear-stained face she had?
What if he liked her?
No, that was impossible. Nellie was right: nobody wanted her because she was like a hedgehog. Still . . . she could have been standing next to him right now, talking to him, and maybe even getting to know him better. What would have happened next? Arina didn't even dare ask this question. Something exciting, something that had never happened to her before. Never in her life had she stood so close to the man whose smell made her knees weak. And what did she do? Got mad at him because of a giraffe. What a fool!
The sun. It had become significantly warmer. There was not a single sign of the morning cold left, as if the steel-gray clouds and the cold wind had never happened. Summer in Moscow was fickle. Summer in Moscow happened only thanks to the sun, with its mighty will and burning rays. Arina squinted, looking at the shining, blinding yellow ball through her fingers. The air smelled fresh; it smelled like flowers that had just opened. That's why she wasn't cold anymore.
Arina made a quick stop at a grocery store located in a small beige mansion. There were a lot of pastries, puff twists, and pretzels but common sense won and Arina bought a plain white loaf of bread and a bottle of the sweet cherry yogurt she loved.
"Eighty-five rubles," the cashier muttered with indifference. Arina grabbed the food from the counter, went back to the sunbathed street and stopped to think.
She could still go back to the exhibition center, and most likely he would still be there. Only why would she do that? Besides, who would let her back in when she'd left her ticket and the booklets on the first floor, right where she'd dropped them? Also, what would she say to him? She said a lot of nasty things to him, accused him of God knows what, and then ran away.
Arina suddenly got mad at herself. She sunk her teeth into the loaf of bread. To hell with everything! If he were such a star, he would be up there, shining bright in the sky. With this thought on her mind, Arina decided to take a walk in the park.
"By the way, I risked my life to make that video."
The sound of an unfamiliar male voice pierced Arina's thoughts like an arrow to the heart. She literally jumped on the spot, turned around and froze, staring at Maxim Korshun in amazement. He was here, in person. He was standing just one-step away from her on a sunny Moscow street, a self-confident macho in sunglasses with a wild grin on his face.
"What are you doing here?" Arina blurted out.
"And just so you know, I love my life, sweetie. Life is the only thing I have," he continued, standing quite still. Had he come here to scold her or what?! Where had he come from? How did he find her? Was he just walking by? Maybe he was heading to a different meeting at a different museum? And, as he was walking, he saw the ill-mannered person in a baggy denim dress and decided to give her a lecture?
"Still, you can't do that," Arina mumbled, hiding her nibbled-at loaf behind her back.
"Can't do what, darling?" he asked sarcastically, casually taking off his sunglasses. His auburn hair and gray eyes seemed even brighter in the sunlight. He seemed to be glowing, warmed by the sun. Arina could easily have stood there forever, just looking at him. Her entire body seemed to light up in his presence and fiery hot waves ran through her from head to toe.
He seemed to understand perfectly the effect he had on her. He carefully studied her embarrassed face for a while then shook his head and tousled his hair. Arina suddenly felt a strong desire to touch him, not giving a damn about decency.
"So, what can't you do, sweetie? After all, this is a social project that should outrage and agitate people's minds. Or am I wrong?"
"You can't just stand there and watch someone kill an innocent animal," Arina replied quietly but firmly.
"Oh, I get it!" he nodded. "I should have covered the giraffe from the bullets with my own body. You would probably have wanted me to do just that."
"No!" Arina realized what she had just said. "That's not what I'm saying."
"Why not? That's exactly what you said. In fact, had I stood there between the poachers and the giraffe, I would have been an honest man. Dead, but honest. And no one would ever have known about me or the giraffe, or the poachers in South Africa. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to convince them to let me shoot?"
"No, I don't." Arina finally dared to look at him and suddenly noticed that Maxim was staring at her slightly opened lips. She immediately covered them with her fingertips, automatically, without even thinking about it. Maxim however, noticed her gesture and his eyes erupted with a fire that made Arina's heart beat like crazy.
What if he kissed her? She would probably die on the spot!
To her disappointment, Maxim shook his head, took a deep breath, and turned away. "If you're going to say something, it would be a good idea to think about what you're going to say first."
Don't go! It was a cry of her soul, a cry of her body. Arina couldn't understand what was happening to her and why the thought of him leaving made her panic.
"I understand that you did what you thought was right," Arina said, trying to force herself to stop staring at him.
"You said that I shouldn't take pictures of animals being killed. But if I didn't, nobody would ever find out about what's going on there, right? Isn't it the biggest evil to let everyone live in blissful ignorance?"
"Well then, you should start filming cows!" she suddenly blurted out. "Thousands of them are getting killed every day. You won't even have to go to Africa."
Of course now he would leave for sure, after all she just said to him! He would tell her exactly what he thought of her and leave. She would never see him again.
Arina suddenly felt like bursting into tears again. Her body responded to his presence against her will. This had never ever happened to her before. She had clearly lost her mind.
"Would you like to grab something to eat or are you full already?" He smiled and pointed at the loaf of bread.