I remember how a simple mention of Turkey evoked in me memories of Natasha and of the whole situation. I could hear about Turkey in the news, at a clothing store, or just from passers-by on the street. The torment lasted for a very long time.
Sometimes I blamed myself for my mistakes so much that tears would come out. On one such day I walked through the entrance door of my house and began to get the newspaper out of the mailbox. It is located next to the elevator, near which a young girl with blond and slightly curly hair was standing. She entered the elevator and said that she was waiting for me, pressing the button to open the closing elevator door. I replied that I was walking to the second floor. She was persistent, again not allowing the elevator door to close, and I decided to let her give me a ride on the elevator to my floor. She was joking about something, and the small experience of communication, which I did not evolve for all those years, made its presence felt. I could not start saying my name, realizing that I would speak with a stupor. When I got out of the elevator, the girl continued to be unswerving and asked me if I had a marker. I realized that she wants to get my phone number. Fortunately, I had with me a bag and a pen in it. I told her about this, and I will never forget how quickly her smile was replaced by a shock on her face that was hiding behind the elevator door, the closing of which she no longer tried to stop.
I was quite worried about this moment, as I missed my chance to have a girlfriend – and I missed it because of my fault. I thought before that that I could fantasize, so as not to be depressed and sad, and when I would need it, I would just regain my focus. After all, before I discovered for myself how easy it was – just start focusing on what is happening in reality. But as soon as such an important moment in my life came, the moment I was waiting for —I just could not free myself from the shackles of the imagination and its consequences. I thought later, were there any other reasons for her shock? My long hair clearly did not bother her; clothes too; no, it had to be the nervous and intense facial expression of my face.
I was being haunted by thoughts wondering what if this was my last chance to find a girlfriend? And when I would become focused on here and now again, then, in light of how easy it is to gain control of my mind, I was blaming myself for not doing this before – because I could already be with a girlfriend, and not with my hand! By the way, I had a dream about the latter on the same night which, apparently, hinted at the fact that I should not have hopes that the girl would suddenly change her mind.
That summer I stopped following the emerging desires to visit porn sites and masturbate for the first time in a long time. My goal was to get to that apartment and talk to Natasha – to explain everything. Alas, I still masturbated from time to time. But this was happening not only due to porn. During that time, I often had cases when I woke up in the middle of the night and masturbated in a drowsy state, realizing what had happened only after an orgasm, when I truly woke up. My health also deteriorated because of such masturbation, delaying the date of my voyage further and further.
In the end, I could not stand it anymore and decided to just go and get on the subway train – what shall be, shall be. It was not an easy trip, especially the passage to Teatralnaya – the passage I used to go along so often as a child, both to my grandmother and to my aunt, who lived at different ends of the Zamoskvoretskaya line.
When I went outside on Avtozavodskaya, it was raining. I myself went under an umbrella along Avtozavodskaya Street to the very house where I was six years ago.
I crossed Velozavodskaya street and entered the courtyard of the corner house. I always remembered the entrance I needed, but which was the floor? For a long time, I stood at the entrance under the rain, dialing different apartment numbers, hoping that someone would simply open the door. Finally, it got opened, and I went inside the building. A man on the second floor said that this was definitely not the apartment I was looking for. But the story was different on the third floor.
Fortunately or unfortunately, but the door was opened by a woman who rented her apartment six years ago to a man who organized a den there without her knowledge. From that very room where I was with Natasha, the woman’s young daughter silently peered out.
From my conversation with the woman I found out that the man was wanted by the police in August 2007. She did not understand who was that Natasha I was talking about, and I think she did not know that her apartment was once a brothel. But she gave me useful information regarding the address of the local police station. I said goodbye to her and left that house for the third time in my life.
The precinct was closed. I wrote down the phone and drove home, noting how my fears had gone, and I was also confident in myself, and my physical condition was once again excellent.
When I called the district police officer, he told me that there was a murder in that apartment in the middle of August 2007. I was afraid that it could be Natasha, but he replied that a guard had been killed. He was busy with another case and could not help me in my search. To my questions he offered to call the archive to find out the details. I did so, but the man on the other end of the phone line said that they did not reveal such things on the phone, adding that for that I should come to their precinct where they would look at me.
I was confused by “we will look at you”. I was 25 years old then, and I was afraid that they could nitpick to the fact that I did not serve in the army. I had the military ID, but, as I was told, in three years they could again send me for examination of my stuttering. I did not go anywhere.
By the way, I often recalled the fact that Natasha spoke about the 25-year-old virgin who came to her once. I was 19 then. But there I was, 25 years old, and I was essentially exactly the same virgin. Being already more or less spiritual person, I saw in that figure a specific meaning, a specific lesson for me. This was not “just a coincidence”.
I did not like my age as I felt pretty old. If before people called me “a young man”, now they could call me simply “a man”. I tried not to think about my age and I tried to occupy my mind with something else.
I wanted to find the phone number that I used to call prostitutes six years ago, but I remembered that it was not only deleted by me upon arrival home on the day of my last visit to Natasha, but the phone itself was broken. I remembered that I still had an old SIM card, and on the Internet I found out that you can get a statement of all the numbers that I called. I went through a lot of phone stores until they told me that the card was not only blocked, but the entire call history was already erased. Oh, how I remember that perplexed look down of that pretty sales assistant! The situation was really perplexed.
I also tried to find Natasha on VK, but to no avail. I even found the phones of some dens near the Avtozavodskaya area, hoping to find at least something. I remember that I even got slightly misty-eyed, speaking on the phone – so bad I felt. One woman was imbued with my situation and actively tried to help, but nothing.
I also thought about going to the police station, but I did not dare to actually do it.
During my reflections on the whole situation, I started seeing some details that I had not seen before. Firstly, I realized that “have been working for six months” said in June meant that Natasha remained on the street in the middle of the Russian winter. I knew well what this means when one winter a homeless woman entered a subway car with terrible festering sores all over her body. Then the people who were next to her rushed in panic to the other end of the car… Secondly, thanks to my life experience I began to see that Natasha could have had problems with her parents – just as at nineteen I left my drunken father to go back to my mother in a noisy apartment. Yes, she did make her choice, but what was the alternative? Who knows…