THE HEAT OF ARKHANGELSK

Having checked in a cheap, though very cozy single room of Belomor Hotel and had a twix saved on the train for supper, Olive started thinking what to do next. Fortytwonteller's phone number was on her, all she had to do now was grabbing a telephone and dialing the six simple figures. But this seemingly easy task felt to Olive just as challeging as jumping in cold water. Of course, it was him who had given her the phone number, but it had been ages since then. Last time they had talked on Mail Agent was in the beginning of summer. Then Olive left for her grandma's in the country for a month, but on coming back she couldn't find him online...

Nastya was not just as close a friend to Olive as Yana, but she had known her for a longer time. Ever since primary school, when at the third grade a new girl was brought in - a short poor-dressed thing with Oriental features and unkempt hair tied in an effortless braid. Judging from the scruffy, sickly, skinny little figure of the new girl it could be easily assumed that the child was totally neglected. Even the teacher, had she not known that the newbie's parents were both engineers with a degree, would have thought her abandoned. It happened at recess. The kids ran one after another, screaming...

It drizzled outside. Olive holding on to Yarpen's hand dragged him on through the puddles, bending over backwards trying to get where the huge sugar cube of the skyscraper was seen behind the trees. As the travellers were getting closer to the skyscraper Olive was quickening her step until finally she broke into a run. "What time is it?" she asked Yarpen, and, panting, she flew into the porch of the skyscraper. "Half past five." "Precisely?" "Yes." "We've made it... Thanks to God..." she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against a column in the lobby.   At five-thirty five a flow of employees gushed downstairs...

A furious gust of wind blew the window open, and along with the rain breaking inside large hailstones tapped on the window seat. Nickey pulled herself free from Cosmos' hugs and approached the window to shut it back. "It's raining like a cow peeing on a flat rock," she remarked, "The guys have definitely got caught out there, I think. They must be all wet through now." "The pack of fools," replied Cosmo disdainfully, "I can't believe they set up for walking all the way to Honeylake. it's all about Olive and her crazy ideas!" Nickey shut the window and having drawn the curtains she crept back to bed and curled up next to Cosmo...

Arkhangelsk, as is well known, is not too big a city. Frankly speaking, it's rather small. No wonder that any news there spread like wildfire. As Saltikov would say, "Fart at one end of town, at the other they'd say you've shat your pants". Although experience shows that the big size of the city is not always a guarantee that you can safely hide in the crowd and avoid prying eyes. Even in Moscow, the biggest city of Russia Olive couldn't do that, not to mention Arkhangelsk... Ironically, Olive wandering off from the railway station towards the lamp factory was last seen by Pavlya who was standing on the platform at that time...

There was a regular Saturday clamor at the Cherkizoff market. The snowflakes danced in the winter twilight, sparkled within the street-lamp rays, fell down at the people's shoulders. Some decorated Christmas trees could already be seen here and there. Everything around breathed the fascinating, cozy atmosphere of the forthcoming holiday. Two pretty fresh-faced young girls in Alaska fur-coats halted by a tent with cocktail dresses. Those were Yana and Olive in search of flash outfits for themselves and Christmas presents for their Arkhangelsk friends. "Look, what about this perfect little dress?"...

Olive stood by the skyscraper leaning onto the parapet. She was anxious; playing nervously with her hair, she kept looking in her pocket mirror to check her makeup. Then, as she threw her mirror back into her purse she scrutinized the young men passing by, looking out for the bespectacled one and trying to pick him out of the crowd. Some skinny four-eyes, indeed, showed up soon, walked by Olive, approached two young guys and all three disappeared into thin air. Olive pulled her skirt down her knee again, trying to hide her torn tights and looked around. It was so embarrassing! Not only had she...

"How are you?" - "I'm great, "How are you?" "I'm fine..." Smiley faces hiding the truth behind Our shallow texts on the Internet... I am waiting for you to go ahead. You have no idea how bad I feel Trying hard to go after what is real. You will never know I am burning up Burning up with love, fear of losing you I'm aware this way I might end up bad. But I'll end up worse off without you... Olive wrote her verses on notebook pages at night, tore them to pieces and wrote again. She was ashamed to publish them online not because the verses were rather weak. They were just devoted to the person who was not supposed to read them...

Yana was still up in arms when, after Saltikov's leave, she got a message from Julia informing that she was heading for the Moscow railway station. Yana immediately pushed the call button. "Are you out of your mind?" "Yana, I'm going back home. Don't ask me anything now... It's not a phone conversation." "Come over to my hotel, then, and tell. No, Saltikov's not here. Don't even remind me of that fucking moron."  Forty minutes later Julia, red and disheveled, flew into Yana's hotel room.   "Yana, what's happened between you two?" "Can't you see? You just take a look around." Yana angrily kicked a pillow fallen on the floor, "Is this what you call a grand hotel?" Julia got confused...

"Hi, Lolie! This is Andrew Saltikov. How are you? What's up? Are you living in Moscow (judging from your posts) or am I mistaken?" "Yes, I'm living in Moscow." was the answer. "Cool! Lolie, what is your real name?" "Olive." "Is this your real name?" Saltikov kept asking. "No, it's fucking fictional!" Olive swore as she read his message. However, she decided not to be rude to him so far. "After all, I still have plenty of time to blow him off," she thought. Saltikov kept on bombarding her with questions. "Are you studying now?" Olive answered patiently. "In a university? What is your major? What year are you in?" he went on interrogating her...

At about one o'clock in the afternoon Olive was awakened by a knocking at the door. She opened her eyes and didn't find Saltikov in bed. She raised her disheveled head from the pillow and saw him stand in the doorway talking to somebody. Then he stepped aside giving way to a plump guy in a leather jacket with a go-bag over his shoulder. "Michael!"  Olive exclaimed jumping out of bed and rushing towards him. "Yeah, Mick, you've done the right thing coming over," said Saltikov, "Tonight we are going out for a walk around Moscow, all together." "I'll text Yana and ask her out with us," Olive decided, "She will bring her friend Julia"...

Two weeks had passed. The New Year's fireworks over Arkhankelsk had long been gone; the drunken accordionist from the main city square no longer played his merry songs by the Christmas tree which was already being dismantled. The Christmas lights and ornaments had been taken off and packed into its boxes until the next New Year, and the formerly beautiful domestic Christmas trees that had recently been glowing and sparkling with their colored lights and tinsel so amazingly and admired in every household - now were blatantly stripped and thrown out in the garbage like miserable dumped girlfriends...