Darina Grotto - Unlimited

The girl stood up, too and took his hand and smiled having known what to say.

‘Pleasure is mine.’

They both sat to the table. Gregory studied the girl sitting in front of him, she studied his professionally and carefully done nails.

‘I’d like to discuss current situation about the re-design of our main package.’ The man gave the fat paper case to the girl. ‘But let’s begin with our lunch. Lady’s first.’

Gregory gave the menu to the girl also, intently following her with his eyes.

‘Ok.’

Vic was laconic. All the atmosphere confused her a bit. After quick glance at the menu Vic ordered just sea-buckthorn tea.

‘Mr Dogmanov,’ the girl closed the menu and looked at the man’s eyes. ‘I’ve already projected a new design of this product. I was going to send it for your approval. So, as you started talking about it, let me show you some sketches and templates.’

Vic took out her laptop, moved closer to Gregory and opened the laptop.

‘Well let’s see,’ she began, after she had opened the first presentation slide.

Vic spoke a lot, clearly, trying to convey a persuasive message her interlocutor. Unexpectedly she felt his leg touch hers under the table.

That was an accident, she thought. Vic shot a surprised look at Gregory and stopped speaking for a moment.

‘I’m sorry,’ the man smiled. ‘Go on your presentation. It’s very interesting.’

‘…This slide consists of a new form, more advanced that, my opinion, matches the product better than the previous one.’

Gregory watched the presentation of the new project carefully. His lunch was getting cold but they both dipped into the bright display.

‘Wow!’ the man exhaled, having fixed his tie, as Victoria had finished her presentation. ‘I’m really glad that our HR employed you. This project has to be on my table by tomorrow afternoon. I approved it fully and give the go-ahead for realization of each slides.’

The girl couldn’t help smiling, listening to flattered and winy boasting in her way. Words dint fail Gregory when he heaped the girl’s efforts with expressing thanks and enthusiastic shouting. Only the next touch of his leg to hers made Victoria come back to reality.

‘I’m sorry,’ Vic thought she was to blame. ‘I should move back.’

The girl rose quickly when she felt his strong fingers squeezing her wrist.

‘Victoria, please,’ Gregory rose, languishingly looked at her eyes.

Victoria couldn’t believe neither her eyes nor her ears. What was it? The country manager asked her to stay near him… It couldn’t be.

‘I’d like,’ he added, ‘to see another project. Ludmila told me about your initiatives in the field of graphic representation of the product slogan. I’d like to see it. Do you have it?’’

‘Yes,’ the fascinated girl answered, looking into the man’s eyes.

Gregory liked madly liked her look, full of interests, misunderstanding, charming and ambitious to know. What a man wouldn’t like that? There was only one problem which the man had no idea about: Victoria was looking at a woman, standing behind Gregory’s back. Only Vic knew that woman not to be seen by anyone.

The spirit stroked the man’s shoulders, shaking off invisible flecks of dust, motherly touching his back. A smile of pain froze on her lips, the glass tears were on her cheeks. Of course, there was her son before her!

Vic clearly saw every resemblance between them: they both have the same noses, lip lines and plush, eye shape and colour, more looked like European than Russian. Having completely realized that it was a spirit of Gregory’s mother, who carried her favourite son even after the death, Vic finally looked aside, sat and opened her laptop.

‘There are only sketches here they’ve not been dotted and crossed yet.’

‘Ok, I’m ready to follow your ideas.’ Gregory smiled, sitting closer to the girl.

A half of hour had passed before they finished discussing the second project sketches. Gregory made a few simple modifications more likely for form’s sake. Victoria listened patiently to the country manager’s commentaries, finishing her tea with sea-buckthorn.

‘Well, colleague,’ Gregory found himself taking the girl by the hand and smiling.

Vic looked at his smile and more and more understood that his smile had nothing to do with job. It looked like friendly but there were barely noticeable and captured shadows of affection in moderato in value of thirty-second notes.

His hand, tenderly holding her cold, pale and tired fingers just accompanied those shadows in his smile, confirming their existence.

The spirit of the old lady, being worried about her son’s fate, frowned. Vic realized the woman looked exactly at her, straight into her face. Its gaze was unbearably heavy, painful and awful.

‘The Devil’s bride…’ Vic heard the certain whisper.

The girl looked around: people wearing suits, were busy with their lunches, from time to time saying something about business; the woman-spirit studied with a cool stare her son’s hand giving its warmth to the odious girl; songs were in French.

Who said that? Whose whisper was it? A female one? The spirit? No, it couldn’t. Its lips silently compressed.

‘The Devil’s bride…’ the same whisper sounded again.

Victoria got more frowned. She looked at the spirit of the old lady and saw her whitish discorporate hand raise and try to unclasp his fingers which had been still holding Victoria’s hand.

‘No…’ Vic murmured, having noticed being accused with the worried spirit’s eyes.

‘What did you say?’ Gregory looked at the getting nervous girl questioningly.

‘Nothing.’ Vic saw the old woman step behind the back of her son. ‘Nothing,’ Vic repeated.

‘So, I’m glad to have such a specialist working for our company. By the middle of the next week my assistant will have arranged lunch out of office. Prepare the pilot product project with your sketches, put exactly them into project originals and present it to me. Are you ok with the deadline, Vic?’

‘Yes, I’ll manage it, Mr. Dogmanov.’ Victoria adjusted her hair trying not to look at the spirit’s eyes. ‘No problem.’

‘Ok, we should go back and… It’s been a pleasure to work with you personally.’

Victoria cracked a smile and hastened to the exit to turn away from the ghost.

Time started moving again into a hurry. Victoria opened her eyes. She was at her worktop. She had been holding the plastic pen. There was almost finished sketch on the screen. It was fifteen minutes past two.

Then other fail to understand happened. What was that? How did she have to feel about it? Victoria leaned back carelessly in her chair, trying to understand what was going on in her head. Would it ever come to an end? Suddenly it had dawned upon her: it was the very time! She had to run at the meeting… again…

The girl grabbed her laptop and ran to the appointed place, fortunately she had just been there. As she appeared at the restaurant Vic saw the same tables, faces, designs and waiters. Everything was the same she had seen already. Even the music was the same! The question “what the hell” didn’t leave her mind.

There was an identical table, the same cared-for look man whom she had already seen, waiting in great terror if all the other that had been in her vision, was going to happen.

To her horror every second of her prediction happened… even the foreseeable appearance of the old lady’s spirit, followed mannered Gregory whom, despite his high-status in the company, Vic didn’t like at all.

The only thing that didn’t come true was the label “The Devil’s bride”. That certainly calmed the girl down, obviously her subconsciousness took the decision to make fun of her.

After the meeting had been finished, Vic tried to subdue her jitters in her legs and hands, being happy that her vision and the reality were just a coincidence and that’s all.

Staying in the hall, Gregory looked at Vic with the smile while she was losing herself in the corners of her mind, had no idea how to behave.

‘Have a good day,’ he said.

‘Thanks… you too…’ Vic turned back and went to her work place.

‘The Devil’s bride…’

The girl stopped dead. Having turned around she saw in the lobby the same old woman’s ghost. It stayed and intently looked at scared Victoria.

‘What did you say?’ Vic asked out of foolishness.

The old woman silently raised her hand and wagged her finger at Vic after she disappeared.

Vic was paralyzed. For the whole time of being with the demon she had got over that she could always see something or someone other couldn’t. She didn’t know what exactly she saw – spirits, ghosts or something unknown. But the girl couldn’t get over the fact that those guys started speaking with her and not just speaking but labelling her.

‘Kharon,’ she whispered on the phone after she had heard the man’s voice. ‘Meet me at 6.30 near Barrikadnaya metro station.’

‘Your voice is very odd, dear.’ The demon said puzzled.

‘It is probably, I need to talk to you.’

‘Oh, why? I’ve never had any serious talk before. How am I supposed to react? Wait, keep silence. A serious talk… Well. The word serious doesn’t cause any positive thoughts if to put it logically. Hey, Vic, what’ve I done?’

Despite of her being in panic, Vic smiled. Guessing Kharon distracted her from her thoughts of the ill-fated old woman.

‘You haven’t. That’s not so bad. Just meet me, ok?’

‘As you wish. How do you feel, love?’

‘Love?’ Vic smiled again.

‘You’re so…like me, asking about every word I tell.’ Kharon smiled, too. ‘I got you. At 6.30 near Barrykadnaya metro station. I bet I’ll guess the carriage you’re gonna be in.’

‘Try your best.’ Vic almost forgot about the accident at work.

The memories were destroyed with the pictures of Kharon’s face. His nice smile and gentle gaze conduced the girl’s sooner rehabilitation.

Vic heard the phone hang up, grinned and already looking forward to meeting.

At that time Kharon was walking along the city, revelling in the view of streets and beautiful women, persistently collecting all information about human behaviour. Ideally curiosity made him flirt with girls, using all conceivable and inconceivable tricks to see what would happen next. He was interested in reading their minds and he liked to listen to their voiced answers. He had fun.

“By accident” he stepped on some girl’s foot, stumbled and almost fell. She was about to attack the awkward man, say him many bad words. But Kharon started twittering in Spanish that he was so sorry to be so an awkward not to notice the girl while he had been seeing the sight of Bolshoy Theatre vault.

The girl immediately smiled, having forgotten about her dirty suede shoe. Kharon went on saying sorry in bad Russian. Of course, his foreign splendid accent, innocent eyes, beauty of his face played its role.

The next conclusion was drawn: Russian women weren’t so angry as they wanted to look like. Their mean faces very fast turned into bright smile with sincerity and they were already ready to help. Kharon saw it better than any other men. The sexual energy he had, charmed women when they were awakened.

To other couple, that had drawn the demon’s attention with its passionate kisses in the middle of Alexandrovsky Sad, Kharon said that he could predict everything. He turned into a blind old man, took the girl by the hand and whispered in a hoarse voice:

‘The wedding is on 10 thof October.’ Looking at nowhere, strongly holding her hand, the demon was reading her mind. ‘You’re waiting for the wedding. Everything is bought. He’s your fiancé. But he has a mistress already.’