“I have to get up earlier than that tomorrow. Before sunrise. We’re climbing up to Mtatsminda.”
“To take a look at Stalin’s mum’s grave?”
“To watch the sunrise.”
“I’ve never even noticed which direction the sun rises in Tbilisi.”
“Have you ever even looked at the sky in Tbilisi?”
“I might have.”
“Do you remember the last time you looked up at the sky?”
“No…”
“That’s the main drawback of cities. You can’t see the sky.”
A little baffled, Dato went to the window, looked up at the sky and asked Gega with a smile:
“Did she tell you that?”
“I figured it out myself,” Gega smiled as he joined him at the window.
“You really can’t see the sky from here.”
“Because the building in front is taller than this one.”
“What do people who live in New York do?”
“I wish I lived in New York, I’d never even look up at the sky.”
“Before you get to New York, maybe you want to come along to the monastery. Come at least once. Soso’s coming with us on Saturday. At least you’ll be able to see the sky if you miss it so much. It is a great place.”
“I told you where I’m going tomorrow. I’ll go with you next week.”
For a while they were both silent, then Dato changed the subject:
“Where’s the police station?”
“The police station is on the other side, where the yard is. If it was on this side, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”
“Why?”
“At night, they beat people in there and such horrible sounds escape that people who lived in the flats facing the yard sold them and moved out.”
“What do you mean they beat people?”
“Torture them.”
“Who?”
“Criminals. Well… you know, they never arrest innocent people here and…”
Dato became so serious and distressed that Gega didn’t finish his sentence and instead smiled at his friend:
“I’m joking, don’t worry.”
“I know.”
“But I still don’t recommend you ever find yourself in a police station,” Gega said.
“We’re off,” he called to his mother.
She came out of the other room and said goodbye to Dato before straightening the crumpled collar of Gega’s jacket. Gega kissed his mother, as he always did when leaving home. After she locked the door, Natela looked out from the window at her son as he appeared at the building’s entrance. As always, Gega knew his mother was watching him, so he jokingly raised his left leg as a sign of goodbye, without looking back.
It was still dark when Gega found made it to beneath the third floor window of Tina’s room, where a light was on and her silhouette appeared for a second in the frame. When the light went out, Gega took out a cigarette and lit it. The sound of hurrying feet could be heard on the stairs and as she appeared from the entrance, Tina smiled at Gega and thanked him.
“Thanks for what?” he asked with sincere surprise.
“For waking up. Getting up this early isn’t easy at all,” Tina said as she walked down the pavement smiling.
“Depends on the case, or rather, for whose sake,” said Gega, although he knew perfectly well that getting up so early was really very difficult for him and he found it extremely hard.
Tina said nothing in reply and smiled at Gega as if careful not to disturb the night’s silence. When they went up the old cobbled streets of Tbilisi, the silence was broken only by the sound of their steps. The ascent was long, and Gega was sure he would soon tire, but he didn’t. The chill of the dawn even felt good to him, especially when he looked down at the still sleeping city.
The sun, meanwhile, slowly rose upwards in the Tbilisi sky, and Gega felt like thanking Tina for bringing him up this hill. Her face radiated such happiness at the tranquility around, and Gega now understood that silence was more precious than words. He only broke it on the way back, when they were coming down from Mtatsminda:
“Are we going to watch the sunset from here as well?”
“You can’t see the sunset from here.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“Go to the sea.”
“Now? To the sea?”
“The sea is at its best now, the autumn sea.”
“Will anyone be there?”
“Only you, me and the sea. What do you say?”
“Yes,” said Gega as he hesitantly touched Tina’s fingers with his right hand.
It was already morning, and people began to appear in the street. Several girls, heading to school in their uniforms, stared back to look at the beautiful couple. What they didn’t know was, that when Tina and Gega’s fingers touched for the first time that morning, they felt like the most beautiful people in the world.
The Monk
“I’m sorry, but I can’t go any farther. The car’s not gonna make it,” the driver told his passengers as he switched off the engine. They all got out, dragging their backpacks.
“Is it far from here?” Soso asked as he looked up at the mountain top.
“We’ll be there in an hour, even sooner if we walk quickly,” Dato said.
“Shall we let the driver go then? There’s fresh snow and the car’s really going to be in trouble for nothing,” Paata said.
“If I had chains on my wheels, I’d take you. But there’s no way it’s going up without them, I know that for sure. It’s a Soviet car…”
The driver was clearly pleased at having the lads agree so easily. He eagerly took the money from Dato, who hurriedly started up the snowy slope. The others slowly followed him. Soso even paused several times to take in the scenic white valley.
“There’s a scene for one of your paintings,” Kakhaberber said to Soso with a smile, still surprised at the early snow.
“It really is very early to have snowed here,” Soso agreed. They didn’t talk further, knowing it would only tire them as they climbed.
Soon, the monastery appeared. It was so beautiful against the background of white mountains that they all stopped. Soso smiled and more to himself than to others, uttered his favourite phrase:
“He’s still the greatest painter…”
“Who?” asked Paata.
Soso didn’t answer, he only pointed at the monastery’s entrance where a robed monk was standing with a little girl, looking at the guests. Then, the monk and girl came down the hill to meet the hikers on the road. Greeting his guests, the monk hugged Dato and the brothers, and then firmly shook Soso’s hand.
“This is Soso, our friend the painter, the one I told you about, who wanted to come,” Dato told the monk. Everyone took off their backpacks.
“May God turn all your roads into the road of virtue,” the monk said, mostly to Soso as he tried to carry his backpack.
“We’re almost there,” Soso said, not letting the monk take his bag. He carried his backpack up to the monastery, where its white yard was a really wonderful sight. There were only a few small rooms left at the monastery, and a larger refectory, where the boys put their food so they could prepare a meal.
Before they ate, the monk said the Lord’s Prayer and made a cross. The group followed his example, including little Eka, who said the Lord’s Prayer together with her father as she looked up at him with a pleased expression. During the meal, she behaved like a true hostess, showing such hospitality to her father’s guests that they couldn’t help smiling. Her father was quite proud of his little hostess and praised her several times. In appreciation, the little lady affectionately kissed her father. Then, Dato broke the silence and said what must have been on everyone’s mind:
“So strange it’s snowed here so early. We’re still having a warm autumn in Tbilisi.”