浴火鸟

Sergey Festisov

两心相遇，且爱且寻。

——N. Apuhtin

开舞会了！12月21日晚9点，军官俱乐部渐渐人满为患，有携家带口的，有孤身一人的，也有成双成对的。就连这幢古老的建筑仿佛也知道这种大型盛会一年只有一次。在一番洗刷布置后，老房子焕然一新，虽然老旧的地板吱嘎作响，但足够欢腾热闹，和人们一起载歌载舞，全然忘记了自己的老迈与不便。我们也毫不在意。在这与世隔绝的军营里，每个人都希望受邀进入到那幢古老的庄园——军官俱乐部。通常，我们得自己准备文娱项目，那次活动也不例外。不到三天，我就设法找到了乐手、歌手、舞蹈、诗朗诵，组织了这么一场汇演。甚至一些退伍老兵后来在他们罕见的信件中都在回忆1972年前夕举办的这场热闹的庆祝活动。但那是后来的事了。同时，人们不断涌入。好心肠的老人家，他刚刚因保持安全执飞获得嘉奖，就把当天不用值班的人都带到了舞会上。大厅像蜂巢一样嗡嗡作响，欢乐的气氛也洋溢到了后台，但我们无法抑制紧张。尽管冬夜很冷，但穿着新熨好的制服，我们还是热得受不了。那晚的节目单我设法在短短几天内组织好，并且已经检查确认过无数遍了，但果不其然在最后一刻突发变故。我汗流浃背地在大厅与舞台之间来回奔忙，寻找能临时撑场的新秀。然后音乐会就开场了，前二十分钟观众们还在适应环境，四处张望着找熟人，但当坐定后，每个人都激动地期盼着每一出新表演，当特别喜欢什么时就会大喊“安可”。我心里暗暗吐槽，过不了多久他们看累了就没那么捧场了。就在人们如我所料开始走神时，我全力以赴，终于把全场都真正想见的人请上了台。罗曼穿着熨整得无可挑剔的制服，手里拿着一把吉他，看起来像位希腊神明。在登台之前，他走到我面前，在昏暗灯光的掩映下，（此时食堂经理正在台上表演魔术）他坚定地亲吻了我的嘴唇，汲取勇气，宣布准备好了表演。在对魔术师以及我宣布兑现惊喜的短暂掌声后，罗曼信步登上舞台。当晚匆忙印刷的节目单中没有提到他的名字。我和老人家都试图劝他参加，但一直没得到明确的回复，直到表演当天的早上。而现在……大厅一下子静下来。坐在后排较远的女士们身子前倾，几乎压垮了坐在她们前面的人，但没人注意这些。享有前几排座位的高级军官的妻子们一下子坐直了。我从后台可以看到罗姆卡的脸颊烧得鲜红，但他努力平复下来。伴随吉他的第一声和弦的奏响和他天鹅绒般的男中音，那些一开始并不是很想听的人（我是说那些丈夫们）的心开始融化，而那些本就渴望听到他嗓音的人则完全入迷了。他正在演奏一首柔情的旋律。他半转身坐在我带给他的椅子上，虽然他的身体属于观众，但他的目光只属于我。他公开地歌唱着送给我、我们，关于我俩的歌。 他没有改动过这首歌的歌词，但通过美丽的诗句，他表露出自己的心迹。“我一直在等你......” 他把自己半哥萨克的激情和温柔的俄罗斯灵魂都倾注在了这场表演中。他的声音断了，停了下来，好像在试探自己的感情，但后来声音再次升起，爱的宣言从他内心和灵魂中溢出，回荡在大厅里。在他强壮的手臂下，吉他就像一个小孩子的玩具，与他一同泪着、笑着。大厅里的人屏息凝神。 他们倾听着他的秘密忏悔，承受着他的痛苦：

请理解，在这忧伤的生命中，

我每时每刻都愿和你在一起。

我爱你！爱你到疯狂的边缘，

所有的幸福都与你息息相关。

最后一个和弦慢慢消溶在空气中。罗姆卡起身鞠躬，然后迅速离开了舞台。 如果我没有抓住他的胳膊，在情绪的驱使下他几乎就要冲出会场。有那么几秒钟，大厅里一片寂静。当罗曼转过身来，我终于看到他的脸时，惊讶不已。 他平时总是含着笑意的清澈眼睛此刻充满了泪水，它们继续歌唱着爱情，歌唱着这个世界上、这该死的军队中，唯一的我们，只要我在他身边并同样热烈地爱着他，他就不在乎任何人任何事。所有这些都发生在几秒钟内。 当我看到他想告诉我的一切，我就明白了，如果我不抱着他，亲吻他，我会永远失去他。我就这样做了。

但就在那一刻，大厅里的人恢复了理智，雷鸣般的掌声响起，呼唤他重返舞台。他站在后台，就在我旁边，眼睛似乎询问我该怎么做。我的眼睛里充满了泪水，因为我突然明白他对我而言有多重要。我知道我们的前路来日方长。没有什么比这种无言的沟通时刻更珍贵的了。爱只是一个词，一个眼神，甚至沉默。但大厅里的人还没有准备好放弃。没人注意到，快到午夜了。老人家出现在后台入口处。掌声现在就像反复的雷鸣。我靠在罗姆卡身上，轻轻地吻了他，把他推回舞台上。他看到了我眼中的泪水，明白了我试图传达的一切。

狂喜的火焰在他的心和脸颊上燃烧，他把吉他抛在身后，几乎飞向舞台角落的那台黑色旧钢琴。他半开玩笑但又像一个真正的大师一样，把外套的燕尾向后一甩，引起了一阵和善的欢笑和掌声。然后他打开琴盖，施特劳斯圆舞曲轻柔的声音充满了大厅。每个人都被旋律迷住了，包括老人家，在罗曼重新上台后，他设法对我微笑，向我示意一切都好。

但这还没结束。观众不允许罗曼离开。他眨了眨眼，跑到后台，抱起了为当晚最后一次表演准备的手风琴。眨眼间，他已经回到舞台上，唱起了一首传统的俄罗斯歌谣，这甚至让老军官都离开座位开始跳舞。我深情地看着他，完全着迷，但我也害怕在这次成功之后，他会被从我身边带走。

罗姆卡似乎能读懂我的心灵，在结束了他那摄人心魄的表演后，他一边取下手风琴，一边向我跑来。就像音乐会开始时一样，他把我拉到一旁，把我们俩都裹在厚重的舞台帷幕里。他吻了我，直到我的头开始眩晕，恐惧消散，接着他又跑回舞台进行最后的鞠躬。音乐会到此结束。我们亲爱的老人家开始搬走椅子和长椅，然后把桌子搬回原位。 唯一留下来庆祝新年的人是军官及其家属以及参加演出的士兵。

我们感到不能再这样躲藏下去了（至少现在是这样），所以我俩去到外面呼吸呼吸新鲜空气。 一路上人们都在赞扬了罗姆卡的才华，感谢他的精彩演出。 罗姆卡完全放松，像好莱坞明星一样鞠躬逢源。 每隔一段时间，他就会用严肃的表情看着我，让我明白他在为我们做这件事，很快就只会剩我们俩，没有人会干涉我们的谈话、想法和感受。 他的微笑变得神秘起来，我知道他准备了一个惊喜。

当我们等待盛宴开始时，在一棵老冷杉树下，我站在罗姆卡旁边，在他带来的温暖外套里，在快乐的罗姆卡赐予我的温暖、柔软的轻吻之间，我贪婪地呼吸着冷冽的空气。慷慨的冷杉树巨人几乎将树枝垂落到地上，我们小心翼翼地隐藏其中，对着颗颗流星许下了愿望，其中许多愿望永远不会实现。 我当时并不知道，我也不想知道。 我感到另一个巨人，站在我旁边的那个巨人，已经准备好给与我整个世界，天空中的星星和他自己，不要求任何回报。 这就是真正的幸福感。

钟声敲响，罗姆卡拿出藏在树下的一瓶香槟和两个杯子。 杯子用棉花小心地包裹起来，这让它们看起来像冰雪皇后的高脚杯。 我们笑着把香槟洒在手上，开启了这崭新的一年。然后，罗姆卡再次伸手到棉絮中，取出一把小刀，敏捷地切剥开一个鲜亮的大橙子，在兴奋中，我扔开夹克，由我自己的魔法师递给我这样一块异域水果，简直天堂般的滋味。 最后一块是我们一起吃掉的，从两端开始，直到双唇在新年初吻中相遇。

忽然有人在呼唤我们，原来是是老人家，正朝我们的藏身之处走来。他手里拿着酒杯和一瓶老塔林（哦！爱沙尼亚最甜蜜的回忆）。我们倒满了酒，为新年举杯共饮。他仔细地环顾四周（尽管我们几乎没有引起别人的注意，很多人聚集在院子里），以一种温暖和父亲般的方式拥抱我们，所以他被夹在罗姆卡和我之间。他把我俩拉过来，用爽朗的声音说：“新年快乐！”接着他笑着补充道：“快跑，你们两个。车在另一边。”我们亲爱的、善良的老人家！你知道我们多想在大家面前亲吻你的脸颊，向你表达我们的感激之情，告诉你一切，在我们的忏悔后，聆听你的故事，因为你肯定有很多话要讲。我发自内心地感谢你！上校，如果你还活着，我祝你身体健康，祝你永远快乐。如果你不再和我们在一起，我将永远纪念你。你对我们来说仍然是一个谜，但事实是，我们并没有尽力去了解你的秘密。

托里克已经在等我们了。他没问任何问题，而是径直开车送我们回机库。Romka勉强脱下外套和夹克后就睡着了。在醉意中，他绽开笑容，赠予我一个神奇的吻。我满怀感恩地接受了它，也睡着了。1972年第一个清晨，当阳光悄悄窥入机库时，它会看到两个年轻英俊的男人睡在对方怀里。即使在睡梦中，两张脸都折射出幸福与平和。我们就不要把他们从这种幸福中惊醒吧！

———————————————

岁月流淌，如梦痴狂

墙壁轰塌，时刻来临

猝然梦醒，幻灭一场

———————————————

Thus, suddenly two hearts have met.

Both in love and looking for answers...

——N. Apuhtin

There was a ball! On December 21 at nine o'clock in the evening, the officers' club started filling up with people. They came with families, they came alone, they came in couples. It seemed the ancient building understood that a celebration of this magnitude takes place only once a year. It was scrubbed clean and decorated, and while the old floorboards creaked, the building rejoiced in the commotion and sang, twirled, and danced together with the peo-ple, forgetting its age and uncomfortable state. We also easily forgot about it. Being so far from the rest of the world, that night everyone wanted to be invited to the ancient manor-the officers club.

As a rule, we had to find our own entertainment. This event was no exception. Within three days I managed to find the musicians, the singers, the dancers, and the poetry readers and organize such a performance that even those who were demobilized later recalled in their rare letters the exuberating celebration that took place on the eve of 1972. But that happened later. Meanwhile more people kept arriving. Our kindhearted Old Man, having just received a commendation for the consistent safety of the flights, brought to the ball everyone who was not on duty. The main hall was buzzing like a beehive. The happiness radiated also backstage, but we couldn't contain our nervousness. Despite the unforgiving cold of the winter evening, we were unbearably hot in our freshly ironed uniforms. The programme of the evening that I managed to put together in just a few days had been checked and confirmed a thousand times, but of course, there were last-minute changes. Dripping with sweat, I was running between the hall and the stage looking for new talent. And then the concert started. For the first twenty minutes, the audience was getting used to the environment, looking around and trying to recognize their neighbours, but once they settled down, everyone excitedly waited for every new performance and shouted "Encore!" whenever they particularly liked something. I had the nagging feeling that soon enough they would grow tired and stop paying at-tention. When my prediction came true, I went all in and invited on the stage the person everyone really wanted to see. Out came Roman in an impeccably ironed uniform and a guitar in his hand, looking like a Greek god. Before going onto the stage, he came up to me and, using the cover of semidarkness (as always, the mess hall manager was showing his magic tricks, just this time on the stage), firmly kissed my lips for courage. He then announced that he was ready to perform. After brief applause dedicated to the illusionist and my announcement that it was time for the surprise I had promised earlier, Romka casually strolled onto the stage. His name was not mentioned in the hurriedly printed programmes of the evening. The Old Man and I had both tried to persuade him to participate, but we received no definite answer until the morning of the perfor-mance. And now... the hall immediately fell silent. The ladies who were sitting farther in the back leaned forward, almost crushing into those who were sitting in front of them; however, no one seemed to notice. The wives of the higher-ranking officers filling the first couple of rows finally sat up straight in their chairs. I could see from the backstage area that Romka's cheeks were burning bright red, but he managed to calm his nerves. With the first chord played on his guitar and the sound of his velvety baritone, Romka managed to melt the hearts of those who were initially not particularly keen on hearing him (I mean the husbands) and to fully enchant those who had been longing to hear his voice. He was playing a sentimental melody. He sat half-turned on the chair that I had brought in for him. While his body belonged to the audience, his eyes were only mine. He openly sang to me, to us, about us. He never changed the lyrics of the song but expressed his thoughts and feelings through the beautiful poetry. "I was waiting for you..." Into this one performance, he managed to pour all his half-Cossack passion and his gentle Russian soul. His voice was breaking and pausing, as if he was testing his feelings, but then it rose again and filled the hall with declarations of love that were spilling out of his heart and soul. In his strong arms, the guitar resembled a child's toy, and it wept and laughed together with him.

Those who were in the hall dared not move or breathe. They listened to his secret confession and felt his suffering:

Please, understand that in this life of sorrow

Each moment I will try to spend with you.

I love you! Love you to the brink of madness

And all my happiness is bound to you.

The last chord slowly dissolved in the air. Romka got up, took a bow, and quickly left the stage. Had I not caught his arm, his emotions would have driven him to leave the building. For a couple of seconds, complete silence fell upon the hall. When Roman turned around and I finally saw his face, I was stupefied. His always-smiling and clear eyes were filled with tears. They continued to sing about love, about the fact that there were just the two of us in this world, in this cursed army, and that he didn't give a damn about anything or anyone as long as I was near him and loved him with equal passion. All this happened in a matter of seconds. Once I saw what he was trying to tell me, I understood I'd lose him forever if I didn't hold him and kiss him, and then come what may.

But at that very moment, the people in the hall came to their senses, and thundering applause broke out calling him back to the stage. He was standing backstage right next to me, and his eyes were asking me what to do. My eyes filled up with tears because I suddenly understood how important he had become to me. I knew there were many days and nights still ahead of us. There is nothing more precious than moments of such wordless communication. Love is just one word, one look, and even silence. But the people in the hall were not ready to give up. It was close to midnight, but no one noticed.

The Old Man appeared at the backstage entrance. The sound of the applause now resembled repeated explosions of thunder. I leaned into Romka, gently kissed him, and pushed him back to the stage. He then saw the tears in my eyes and understood everything that I was trying to communicate. Euphoric, fire burning in his heart and in his cheeks, he left the guitar behind and almost flew to the old black piano that stood in the corner of the stage. Jokingly, but like a real maestro, he threw back the tails of his coat, causing a sea of good-na-tured laughter and applause. He then opened the lid, and the gentle sounds of Strauss's waltz filled the hall. Everyone was enchanted by the melody, including the Old Man, who, after Roman's reentrance on the stage, managed to smile at me and show me that everything would be all right.

But that was not the end of it. The audience would not allow Roman to leave. He then winked, ran backstage, and put on the accordion that was prepared for the final performance of the night.

In the blink of an eye, he was already back on the stage singing a traditional Russian song that made even the old officers leave their seats and start dancing. I lovingly watched him, fully entranced, but I also felt the fear that after this success he would be taken away from me.

As if he could read my mind, Romka finished his breathtaking performance and ran to me, removing the accordion on the way. Just like at the beginning of the concert, he pulled me aside and wrapped both of us in the heavy stage curtain. He kissed me until my head started spinning and the fear dissolved, and then he ran back to the stage to take the final bow. That was the end of the concert. Our dear Old Man started to remove the chairs and the benches and put the tables back in place. The only people who stayed to celebrate the New Year were the officers with their families and the soldiers who had participated in the performance.

We realised that we could no longer hide (at least for now), so we went out for a breath of fresh air. All the way people commended Romka for his talent and thanked him for the brilliant performance. Romka was completely relaxed and bowed to the right and to the left like a Hollywood star. Every once in a while he looked at me with a serious expression on his face to make me understand that he was doing it for us and that soon we would be alone with no one to interfere with our conversations, thoughts, and feelings. His smile grew mysterious, and I understood that he had prepared a surprise.

While we were waiting for the feast to begin, I stood next to my Romka under a big old fir tree, warmed by the coat he had brought, and greedily swallowed the cold night air in between the warm, soft, and gentle kisses bestowed upon me by the happy Romka. Carefully hidden by the huge fir branches that the generous giant had lowered almost to the ground, we watched the falling stars and made wishes, many of which would never come true. I didn't know it back then, and I didn't want to know. I felt that the other giant, the one standing next to me, was ready to give me the whole world, the stars in the sky, and himself, while asking for nothing in return. That is what true happiness feels like.

Then the bells started ringing. Romka pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses that were hidden under the tree. The glasses were carefully wrapped in cotton wool, and it made them look like the goblets of the Snow Queen. We started this brand-new year laughing and spilling champagne on our hands. Then Romka once again reached into the cotton wool and pulled out a razor blade to swiftly cut and peel a large, bright orange. In my excitement I dropped the jacket, and the pieces of the foreign fruit, handed to me by my very own magician, tasted like heaven. The last piece we ate together, each of us starting from the end, until our lips met in the first kiss of the year.

Then someone called us. It was the Old Man, who was coming toward our hiding place. In his hands he held glasses and a bottle of Old Tallinn (Oh! The sweetest memories of Estonia). We filled our glasses and raised them to toast the New Year. He carefully looked around (even though we hardly drew attention to ourselves, a lot of people had gathered in the yard) and hugged us in a warm and fatherly way, so that he was wedged between Romka and me. He pulled us in and said in a clear voice, "Happy New Year!" Then he added with a smile, "Run away, you two. The car is on the other side." Our dear, kindhearted Old Man! If only you knew how much we wanted to kiss your cheeks in front of everyone and show you our gratitude, to tell you everything, and after our confession, listen to your stories, because you surely had many to tell. I thank you from all my heart！Colonel, if you are still alive, I wish you health and many happy years ahead of you. If you are no longer with us, I will always honour your memory. You remained a mystery to us, but the truth is, we didn't try very hard to learn your secrets.

Tolik was already waiting for us. He didn't ask any questions but drove us straight to the flight house. Romka barely managed to take off his coat and jacket before falling asleep. A smile spread across his face from the liquor we had drunk, and he bestowed upon me one of his amazing kisses. I thankfully accepted it and also drifted off to sleep. When the daylight peeked into the flight house on the first morning of 1972, it saw two young and handsome men sleeping in each other's arms. Even in their sleep, both faces reflected happiness and peace. Let's not wake them from this bliss.

———————————————

And then the days kept running like a frantic dream,

Down fell the walls and closer came the hour

When we would wake from the enchanting sleep...

———————————————