The day flies by quickly. We’re being served snacks and alcohol. I’m in anticipation. My first actual student party will take place in the atmosphere of Halloween. I hope it goes without incidents, like in “Heaven.” It turns out, sometimes you can drink a little too much and then cause problems. I’m still angry with myself for that kiss with Anton. The guy has probably forgotten about it, but guilt is eating me up in front of Vlad.
Around six in the evening, Milana’s friends and our classmates from Katrin start to arrive. The three of us happily greet them on the porch. As time passes, I watch as cars fill the lawn in front of the house and soon there will be no room left even for an apple to fall. Mostly all the cars belong to Milana’s guests, while our group mostly arrived by taxi.
There’s a crowd. They’ve filled not just the house but everything around it. While Milana and Katrin are at the epicenter of the events, I stop for a moment in front of the house and take in the decorations with pleasure. We’ve made an effort. The garlands shaped like pumpkins and autumn leaves shine brightly in orange. The killer from "Scary Movie" also flickers with neon lights. Nearby, crosses and skeletons covered in cobwebs stand, illuminated in blue and white. They didn’t skip costumes either. Milana is a deadly choreographer, Katrin is a nurse, and I’m dressed as an artist from past centuries. It turned out to be more cute than scary, considering the flowers painted on my face, but I like it.
Strangely enough, I can hardly hear the noise from the guests. I manage to isolate myself and enjoy the vacuum silence amidst the laughter, screams, singing, and other sounds. I take a deep breath of the cool air. It feels damp; it might rain.
— Yuliana! — Katrin pulls me out of my thoughts. — Why are you standing here?
— I was looking at the garlands, — I smile.
— You should stop looking at the garlands and go into the house and have fun. We’re playing a game.
I raise my brows in question.
— Which one?
— Come on, and you’ll find out.
Laughing, I step after the girl. The moment I cross the threshold, the noise of voices hits me like an avalanche. Still, I accept it. I need to live this life like Milana does, despite hopes, a broken heart, a troubled past, and a foggy future. Everything is soon going to change even more, as my mom is going to be free, and right after that, I probably will too.
Katrin leads me into the living room. A group of about fifteen people sits in a semicircle. I’m surprised to see the model I painted during the exam — Martin. He’s sitting next to Milana and grinning widely. The guy’s olive skin and brown eyes accentuate the whiteness of his teeth. I notice that Vlad’s sister is acting quite oddly towards the model. She lightly touches his hand, almost by accident, but I know for sure it’s intentional.
The guy looks up and sees me.
— Princess? — he asks in surprise. — I remember you!
— You two know each other? — Milana laughs, looking shocked.
— He was a model at the academy, — Katrin interjects.
The guys, some of whom are familiar, some are not, start hooting and whistling.
— Dancer, model, Martin, you’re a catch for the girls! — shouts one.
— No wonder they’re into guys like him, — I unexpectedly hear Anton's voice. I didn’t know he was here too. Mark, his friend, is nowhere to be seen.
— Cute? — I raise my brows.
— Oh, the princess has a tongue? — Martin smirks. — Milana, do you know her?
The girl stands up and smiles, but I notice a shadow of fear in her blue eyes. At least, that’s how I interpret her emotions.
— Of course, — she walks up to me and hugs me, — Yuliana is my daughter-in-law.
Everyone is shocked. Katrin hisses something, but doesn’t say anything, just watches.
— Daughter-in-law? — The model starts to bombard me and Milana. — Mi, how is she your daughter-in-law?
— They are married to my brother.
I blush. No, I’m not ashamed that I’m married. I’m ashamed because Milana presents it as if I’m incomplete.
The guy looks at us warmly. Although no, he’s looking only at Milana. But does she see it herself, or has jealousy completely overtaken her?
I nudge the girl in the ribs with my elbow and ask her to come with me to the bedroom. She agrees, casting a quick glance at Martin and stepping behind. The moment we’re alone, I turn to her and firmly say:
— Stop! I thought we were friends!
— We are friends, Yuliana! — she declares angrily, folding her arms across her chest.
— Seriously? You got jealous of Martin over me! You got jealous knowing that I’m in love with your brother!
— Don’t start, nobody was jealous! I emphasized that no guy at the party should hit on you.
I roll my eyes in annoyance. Milana is perhaps the first person in my life who pushes me to yell. She, like her brother, pulls a thousand different emotions from me that I would prefer to hide and forget.
— I saw.
— What? — the girl grumbles.
— I saw how you touched him, how you looked at him. He goes to ballet, like… — I hesitate to say. — And you’re a choreographer, so I see everything and understand everything.
— Yuliana, — she warns, — you’re awesome, seriously, but I…
— But you’re only ready to share bad honesty, and you’re afraid to talk about being in love with Martin, — I conclude.
— Where did you get that?! — she yells. — I’m not in love with him. We’re friends!
I raise my brows.
— You’re not friends. He’s not a friend to you. And you’re not a friend to him, — I say softly. — You like each other.
— God! — she growls. — You can’t sort out your own husband and try to interfere in my life?
I sigh.
— It’s not about that. Don’t get angry. I’ve noticed your sympathy, as well as your jealousy. Just ask anyone present!…
— Just don’t interfere! — she huffs.
Milana storms out of the bedroom and slams the door. I sit on the bed and cover my face with my hands. I’m not crying; it’s just upsetting because, even if it looks a little strange, I really noticed sympathy between them. Martin and Milana are drawn to each other!
Once I calm down, I go back to everyone. I can’t see Milana or Katrin. But there’s the model and Anton; they’re still playing some game. They invite me to join as well. I join in, but I wisely sit as far away from Martin as possible. I don’t want to irritate Milana and provoke her jealousy, especially since it doesn’t matter anyway because the guy likes the sister of the Saint, definitely not a wife.
We play the game “Trivia” for a while. One of the unfamiliar guests starts asking questions about horror films or anything related to the holiday itself. If the answer is incorrect, you have to drink.
— What were the first Jack-o’-lanterns made of?
— Will there be options? — several voices ask.
— Turnip, apple, orange, watermelon! — the host laughs.
— Turnip? — I raise my hand.
— Any more answers? — the guy asks teasingly. — No? Then the blonde wins, and you all drink! While you’re filling your stomachs, let me explain: The first Jack-o-lanterns were made in Ireland from hollowed-out turnips. A piece of coal was placed in the hollow to turn it into a "lantern" that was to guide the poor old Jack, who wasn’t welcomed in heaven but was also denied entry into hell to trick the devil.
Then I just have to keep up with the answers when the questions about Tim Burton’s films and Hannibal Lecter come up. Because, as it turns out, I don’t know much about the cinema of this genre.
Several hours pass, and Milana returns to the circle and starts to play. She sits next to me and quietly grumbles that she apologizes for overreacting. Silently, without drawing attention, I squeeze her hand and ask where Katrin is.
— I don’t know, but I want to ask, where’s your phone?
I touch my pants pockets and find nothing.
— Did you put it somewhere? — I slowly stand up and say that I’m going to look for my smartphone, so the game will continue without me.
My body sways slightly from the drinks consumed, but I stubbornly continue. I return to the porch of the house and, to my surprise, notice my phone there. The screen flashes with a notification. I have ten missed calls from Milana and… In shock, the phone slips from my hands because right before my eyes there’s an open message from the Saint.
I force myself to control my emotions and read the message:
“You asked, I’m waiting for you.”
Strangely enough, there’s a reply:
“Yes, but tie your eyes and wait for me in the workshop.”
I don’t understand anything… Where did the reply come from if I just saw the message now? Where did his message about waiting come from if I didn’t write anything?!