Past imperfect. Aderin Bran

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СКАЧАТЬ had been filled with tea until recently, poured the rest of her spumante into it. After doing this, she grabbed a basket of food and a box of matches from the table and headed towards the exit.

      "Happy New Year!" She shouted across the now empty room.

      “And to you, Signorina! And you too! Please come again! You are always welcome here!” Giuseppe shouted, waving goodbye to her.

      Smiling, Lera pulled on her coat and hurried to the bank of the Tiber. There, at the beautiful Fabricio Bridge, with her back to the Marcellus Theatre and her face to the Basilica of Saint Bartolomeo, she fought through the crowds of people. She wanted to get closer to the river.

      Her watch said it was two minutes before midnight. Lera unscrewed the lid of her thermocup, which was lined with metal on the inside so it could serve as a miniature barbecue. Lera put a note inside, covered it from the wind with her hand, and taking out the matchbox began to wait.

      “Uno!!!” The crowd shouted after a moment.

      Lera struck a match and, without letting it flare up, poked at the piece of paper. The match went out.

      “Due!!!” People burst out in chorus.

      Lera got a little nervous and struck a second match. This time, she let the flame flare up properly and held the match to the piece of paper.

      “Tre!!!”

      The paper lit. Lera covered the tiny fire from the wind with both palms.

      “Quattro!!! Cinque!!!”

      Why did the waiter give her such a thick piece of paper?!

      “Sei!!!”

      The piece was almost burnt out, and Lera watched impatiently as the last slightly bluish light faded and extinguished.

      “Sette!!!”

      There it is! Lera slammed the lid with the ashes on the termocup, twisted it and began to shake so that the ashes would be mixed with wine.

      “Otto!!!”

      She snapped off the plug from a small hole in the lid and, almost spilling, began to swallow wine from the cup which turned out to be too much.

      “Nove!!! Dieci!!! Undici!!!”

      Lera pulled herself away from the cup, swallowed the last drop and shouted with everyone:

      “Dodici!!!”

      The sky exploded with fireworks. Shots and explosions rattled, shaking the bones. Lera screamed and cheered with everyone else, almost losing her voice. Fireworks reflected in the oil-black water of the Tiber illuminating everything around with fantastic colours.

      Lera's heart filled with childlike joy. She had done it! What if it actually works? And although it was silly, Lera sincerely hoped that smoke from the burnt paper would fly directly to heaven and reach the someone it was meant for.

      An hour later, she headed to her hotel, responding to constant shouts of "Buon anno!" Just before entering the building, an old pair of men's long underwear thrown from a window for luck fell on her head. It was the final straw. The girl burst into laughter.

      ****

      In the early morning, a car pulled up to the back door of a restaurant in Sant'Angelo. Giuseppe hurriedly left the building and quickly walked towards it. The cold did not please him. As with all Italians.

      One of Giuseppe's nephews drove the car. The man was serious about calling a bunch of guys. Vincenzo, for example, definitely was ready to meet some brava ragazza! His work will ruin him completely very soon. However, Giuseppe had married late and lived happily.

      "Hello, Uncle!" said his nephew cheerfully.

      "Hi, Vincenzo!" replied Giuseppe. "Thank you for offering to give me a lift!"

      Vincenzo turned on the heating for his uncle's seat. Giuseppe sat down comfortably and looked out the window, smiling, looking forward to the long trip.

      "Where's Aunt Chiara?” Vincenzo asked, looking at the back of the restaurant.

      “O! Madonna mia! She's packed things on a trip for a week, even today! It’s four o'clock in the morning and my Chiara was late anyway! Women!”

      Giuseppe threw up his hands and Vincenzo burst out laughing.

      "I swear to you, nephew, men should be paid by the hour for the time they spend waiting for their wives to finally get ready.”

      “Oh, I see you're cheerful today!" Vincenzo winked at him.

      “Of course I am! Today a cute ragazza made me double my profits! And it only cost me a basket of food and two bottles of wine!"

      “Really? How did you manage it?” Vincenzo was surprised.

      “I mean that! A Russian interpreter. She played piano in my restaurant all evening. Can you imagine? The guests didn't want to leave.” Giuseppe was excited and waving his arms like a windmill. "And I told everyone, we need to hire a musician. Let him come at least once or twice a week. My guests were singing, with their arms around each other. That's why I run this restaurant.”

      But Vincenzo wasn't listening. He clung to one phrase like a pit bull and jumped on the chair.

      "Uncle! I desperately need a Russian interpreter," the guy shouted. "Did she leave you her phone number?"

      "I'm not so young and attractive that beautiful girls give me their phone numbers," laughed Giuseppe, patting his belly.

      "Oh, the devil!" Vincenzo said in serious frustration.

      Giuseppe looked at his nephew with some regret, the nephew who thinks about his job even at four in the morning on New Year's Day. It's scary to think – even on a night like this, the poor guy has no other business than to take his uncle to the airport. Or maybe he and this Valeria will work out? Giuseppe squinted and decided – well, why not?

      “She said the name of the agency where she works and also, she said that her boss was a stingy donna. Try contacting her… Look up the name of the agency on the internet. What if it works! The interpreter said that her boss, she would get an employee out of vacation if the client offers good money.”

      Giuseppe was glad that that money definitely wouldn't be from Vincenzo's pocket.

      "What’s the name?" Vincenzo asked, hope lighting up in his eyes.

      "Hermes."

      Chapter 4

      The morning started with a phone call. Lera pulled her right hand out of the warm cocoon of the blanket, groping for the ringing phone and looking at the display with one eye. It was Irina Konstantinovna calleding. Lera automatically answered the call and muttered sleepily:

      “Yes? Irina Konstantinovna, I'm leaving now the house going out already soon yeah…”

      “Where do you think you're going?” there was a laughter on the other end. ” You’re supposed to be buried in the wilderness, covered in snow. And your phone should be off. You must be sitting on a tree since new year chimes, waiting for a call from your beloved boss!”

      While СКАЧАТЬ