Kiev. A beautiful green city, where around almost every corner one can find something interesting. Here’s Andriyivskyy Descent, the long winding street of cobblestones and the house where the famous writer Mikhail Bulgakov lived. He wrote The Master and Margarita, the story of good and evil that has been read around the world. Here was St. Volodymyr’s Cathedral, with frescoes painted by the world-famous artists Mikhail Vrubel and Viktor Vasnetsov. Holy Sophia Cathedral, Saint Andrew’s Church, St. Michael’s Golden-Domed Monastery. Kiev Pechersk Lavra, the monastery that started out as a series of caves, and the Museum of the Great Patriotic War.
All this created a lasting impression on me, and Mike was just stoked on the beauty of the city, its historical and cultural heritage. I felt proud of my little Ukraine, and gratitude to this overseas man for his sincere interest in our history and culture.
There in Kiev, I introduced my American guest to my son. I was pleasantly surprised how quickly the men hit it off. Mike liked my son a lot; Vova liked Mike.
Oksana and Ken seemed not to get along well for some reason. She kept hinting to him that she needed him to buy something, many things, for her, and he, the silly, just did not understand those hints. Oksana was getting angry. Ken was getting perplexed.
Back home, Mike and I invited them for a dinner at my place. Mike decided to cook himself and please us with roasted pork ribs with barbecue sauce and baked potatoes as was traditional for his homeland.
Dinner was already on the table in my little kitchen, spreading an unusual, appetizing flavor all over my flat, when suddenly Oksana said, “Listen, Polina, let’s switch our guys.”
“What do you mean, switch?” I was surprised.
“Well, easily! I don’t like Ken. I like Mike more. He’s handsome. And I am beautiful too. A better match. And you, as I’ve understood, don’t really care whom you sleep with. You’re not going to get married. By the way, Ken is not that bad in bed. How’s Mike?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t tried,” I said sarcastically.
“At all?”
“At all.”
“Foolish woman! You’ve just wasted your time! Or maybe you are just a stick-in-the-mud.”
“Who told you I’m not going to get married?” I ignored her offensive tone.
“Veronika.”
“Well, you know, I can change my mind.” I seethed with indignation.
“Polina, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?” said Oksana with superiority in her voice, and laughed aloud.
It reminded me of something! Déjà vu, I thought, and then I totally lost control.
“Who the hell do you think you are, Oksana? Want to try for Mike? Be my guest! Do you really think every guy drools over your shape? Just bleach your hair white, put on that screaming red lipstick and you think it’s done? Like that’s all you need? Do not get too offended then if he doesn’t want to experiment with you! What are you gonna do then? Huh? You won’t end up with either of them. Go ahead, try it!”
“Oh, he will want me,” said Oksana, and confidently paraded, wiggling her hips at Mike. Apparently, she was really confident in her irresistible body, platinum-blonde hair, and red lipstick. Mike was sitting at the table, ready to start dinner, when Oksana plopped down on his lap. Caught in surprise, Mike jumped up and Oksana with all the beauty she was ready to use a few minutes ago as her unfailing weapon, fell down splat on the floor.
As she fell, she grabbed the tablecloth, which was set with a steaming hot dinner. Cutlery, the bowl with hot baked potatoes, the pork ribs Mike had cooked according to a special American recipe, ketchup, all that with a crash ended up on Oksana’s head.
“Aarrgh!” cried the temptress.
Ken rushed over to help Oksana get up, but then suddenly stopped, apparently realizing that something was not right in the way she had sat down on Mike’s lap, and right in front of him. He turned to look at Mike, and Ken’s expression could hardly be described. Something combining surprise, indignation, anger, and confusion. Mike’s expression was no better. In addition to all the above-described feelings, his face reflected fear. Then all of us looked at Oksana, sitting on the floor and screaming wildly, and we cracked up. Loudly and uncontrollably.
The picture in front of us was so hilarious that we could not stop laughing. You know from school, if you have to be serious in the classroom, your mouth automatically stretches into an idiotic smile, and your body is shaken by stomach and throat spasms caused by the hidden laughter.
As ill luck would have it, Mike’s special barbeque tomato sauce had spilled right onto Oksana’s head and was slowly running down her face and her long blonde hair. Right on top of her head, like a small hat, there was a pork rib, slathered with the same sauce. In one hand she was holding a potato, probably caught in an attempt to save it from falling to the floor. Sitting there on the floor and crying, she looked like a large child. Only the expression on her face was not childish at all. It was awry with hatred and anger.
“What are you all laughing at?”, Oksana screamed hysterically. “And you, you American pest, it seems funny?
Ken could not understand what she was saying, but he easily determined that her words referred to him, and that they were not nice or friendly.
“Polina, what did she say?”
“I didn’t understand,” I said, trying to calm things down after the hysterical laughter, even though I perfectly understood what the furious Oksana was screaming at him.
“You, you schemer! You set it all up on purpose, didn’t you?” Oksana attacked me.
“Me? Ha-ha-ha! No, how could I? Oh-ho-ho! I had no way to know that you would try to get my man. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha. Now, if I had known, then I would definitely have planned something like this.”
“You are scum, all of you!” was Oksana’s conclusion when she tried to get up. She shouldn’t have done that. In getting up, she bumped into a side table. It fell down, and all the bottles of beer and vodka, the bowls of canned cucumbers and tomatoes broke into pieces on the floor. Anger and hatred are always bad counselors, let alone when it comes to romance, then it is necessary to be especially delicate. But Oksana didn’t know that or was just overcome with her emotions. Whatever it was, she also lost this round in my favor.
I looked at Mike. He looked at his dinner, his hours of work destroyed, lying on the floor. Offended, he turned away and left the kitchen. I suggested to Oksana that she take a shower, and then I went after him.
“What was this all about?” asked Mike.
It was impossible to explain now what Oksana had wanted, and why it had happened. Using all my English vocabulary I convinced both men that tomorrow I would certainly explain all to Veronika, and she would translate, and offered to take them to a dinner at a nice restaurant.
After her shower, Oksana cooled down a bit, but the evening was still ruined. Anyone’s attempt to smile she took as a personal offence. Ken kept badgering me as to why she wanted to sit down on Mike’s lap. I diligently pretended not to understand what he was asking. Finally everyone went home.
The next morning, I called Veronika and explained everything to her. She translated to Mike, Mike talked to Ken, trying to turn everything to a joke. I had no idea that Ken believed in this joke version, but I didn’t care, because Mike suddenly hugged me tightly and kissed me. Oh, it was a truly passionate kiss!