Anya and Sergey

‘I’m very much afraid of needles,’ Anya said.
‘Needles?’ I repeated, unpacking a needle.
‘Yes!’ She said and smiled.
‘So how do you pass a blood test?’ I was questioning how serious she is.
‘This is how: I faint every time.’
The way she had answered made me laugh. I looked at Sergey. It seemed she wasn’t joking. His eyes wished me luck.

On the 18th of December 2019 Anya and Sergey made the long and tedious hike to 20th arrondisment to my studio in Paris, knowing they were to be interviewed at 10:00 am. They had walked to my place because there was no other way for them to reach me.

Paris had been suffering a Tube strike for two consecutive weeks. Amongst the 14th subway lines only two were working, the 1st and 14th lines, these being operated by computer. The rest of the Tube lines and also tramways were out of service.

Far too many people were waiting at bus stations throughout the city, impatient to ride on overcrowded buses that were themselves trapped in the battle for free road space with unscrewed taxi drivers.

‘Now I’m going to ask you questions. Answer one at a time.’ I opened a notebook with prepared questions and straightened my back. ‘How old are you?’ I asked.
’34!’ Anya said.
‘I’m 34 too.’ Sergey responded.
‘What are you passionate about?’
‘Music, friends, nature, my cat.’ Anya answered enthusiastically.
Sergey fell to thinking.
‘Sergey, what about you?’
‘I like music too. I like dance, my wife, manual work.’ He said seriously.
I smiled at him and nodded in the recognition.

Two weeks before the interview Anya had written to me, advising that she would be in Paris with her husband and that they wanted to be a part of the project “Your Story By Me“.

They had flown in from San-Francisco to London two days before. From there they had taken train to Paris in order to meet me and make their first tattoos. They will leave Paris and fly to Minsk the following day to see Anya’s family. From Minsk to Moscow afterwards and from Moscow to Kurgan finally, to visit Sergey’s family.

The last 15 years they had spent in the USA, as they were unable to leave the country.
Having recently received their American documents they travelled to Europe at the earliest opportunity.

During those 15 years away Sergey’s grandmother, grandfather and father had died. Only his mother remained alive.

‘What words do you find beautiful?’ I asked, following the interview with them and looking for any hitches.
‘A spring.’ Anya answered.
‘Anya.’ Sergey answered.

That’s so sweet, as if they just met, I said to myself.

‘How long have you been together?’ I asked.
’11 years.’ They replied.
‘A lot,’ I mumbled, and wrote down the answer.

‘Who or what do you appreciate most in your life?’
‘Friends!’ Anya said. ‘I love my friends very much! Our doors are always open for them, in the literal sense of the word “open”. They have keys to our house so they may come often without asking for an invitation.’ Anya leaned across the table. ‘Imagine, a normal morning, you walk into the living room and you see Richard sleeping on the couch. Then you go to the kitchen and there is Bob, cooking a breakfast. I’m always sincerely pleased to see them!

‘I imagine.’
I looked up at the ceiling, imagining the wooden one-storey house, with stilts on it, in the tall beautiful forest. It was the house of Ken Kesey. A terrific place. Every person who so wished could come to this place and stay for as long as he or she would want and do whatever he or she wanted.

It was an iconic house. Acid parties were taking place there regularly, a lot of contemporaneous genii and stars were coming by. It was all about sharing.

What I find interesting is how Ken Kesey managed his writer’s fees. All the money he made by writing was placed in a glass jar in a prominent place in such a way that any person who wished could take some of it. Of course, such a generous act had been a magnet for different people, both good and bad.

I went back to Anya and Sergey. They were exchanging glances, wondering why I am looking at the ceiling for so long.

‘Sergey, who or what do you appreciate most in your life?’ I went back to the interview.
‘My wife.’ Sergey answered simply and aptly.
I underlined the word “wife”.

‘I want to clarify,’ Anya said embarrassed, ‘I don’t want to seem as if I don’t love my husband enough, but Sergey is my friend first of all. So, when I said how I love my friends, I imply it to Sergey as well.’
‘I know you meant well,’ I said and underlined the word “friends”.

‘Is there something that you hate? If so, what is it?’ I asked them.
‘Virginia! I lived in Virginia Beach.’ Anya started telling her story. ‘Never liked it there. If I could erase it from my memory, I’d do it right away.’ Sergey and I were listening carefully. ‘I also hate hypocrites. I got so tired of hypocrisy at work that I took an unpaid vacation.’ It was clear that Anya needed to get it off her chest.
‘Actually I work in the company of my dreams, but don’t mention it’s name please!’
‘Okay!’ I nodded.
‘It became a dream when I studied graphic design. The company was founded in the late 70’s by two genii. They created spectacular open titles for the coolest films of that time, working on a very low budget and using ancient computers! I was very impressed with their distinguished works. They’ve made lots of cool stuff after as well.’

There was no need to extract information from Anya. She freely told me all sort of things, as if I was her сlose friend and we hadn’t see one another for long.
Meanwhile Sergey remained silent.

‘And it just so happens,’ Anya continued, ‘that after attending college I didn’t engage with design and went to tech. Nevertheless 10 years later my dream came true, I was hired in the tech team by the company”
‘That cannot be mentioned.’ I reacted.
‘Right! Can you imagine? And after Q&A session one of the founders came up to me and said that he is happy to meet me. I was over excited and confused, because it was me who was very happy to meet him.’ Anya displayed splendid, unnaturally white even teeth.

I was staring at her diastema.

‘After a while I changed my line of work. My soul was striven to design. When I was done trying to contend with a male tech team, I worked my way to a producer job. A producer surrounded by design!’
‘And hypocrites,’ I added.
‘Yes. I changed the line, but the company stayed the same.’ Anya squeezed eyebrows and hung her head.

‘Why did you decide on America?’ I finally asked.
‘The first time I came to Virginia was through the “J1 Work and Travel” scheme. It didn’t work out well. I was living in a shanty place with no beds for four months. We were six, apart from cockroaches, living in this hut.’ Her voice became quieter. ‘It was terrible. Once some guy, about 45, saw me taking a shower. Our doors were never closed, so this man decided to come in and jerk off at me. It was terrible!’ Anya repeated. ‘I was cleaning the streets, I was cleaning the motel rooms, and as you imagine there was a lot of turd.’ Anya became silent, her eyes were hidden behind long black eyelashes. ‘I was robbed twice during these four bloody months! And then I left America.’

‘What made you return there?’
‘I met a guy in Belarus and we were to be married, but at the last moment I became frightened that I was marrying the wrong man. I felt the need to get far away, so I applied on the sly for a visa and then flew to Virginia. I’ve never been anywhere else before. Luckily, my first trip didn’t turn out as a complete failure, I’ve made some friends there, so I went for their support.’

‘When you arrived and met up again with your friends in Virginia, what did you start to do there?’
‘Oh, this time everything was different and better!’ Her voice revived. ‘With the help of my friends I found a decent place to live not far from the beach, which is the most festive area of the city. There are the cafes, bars, shops and restaurants, full of all kinds of people cruising around, also the tattoo shops.’ On the last words Anya poked me with her eyes.
‘I was making tattoos.’ She said archly.
It worked, she poked me and curiosity played on my face.
‘Nothing creative, to be honest, they were just temporary tattoos made with henna, tattoos that could be chosen from the scrapbook.’
‘Explain to me how it works and where it was?’
‘We had two spots: a shop where my boss worked, and an open kiosk on the corner of the streets. I worked in the kiosk. We were open from nine in the morning till midnight, seven days a week. It was cool! The music was playing all the time, lots of people around.’

‘Thank you Anya. It’s a great story! I have plenty to work on.’ I said, turning the page of my notebook. ‘Now I really want to hear the story of your mysterious husband.’ Sergey got a grip as if it was a job interview.

‘Sergey, what is your dream?’
‘I want to build a house myself.’ He said without hesitation.
‘What is the last dream you remember?’
‘I dreamt my father was alive; he came home drunk and I lectured him for being wrong. I see this dream again and again.’
‘What was the cause of his death?’
‘Cancer.’

One day I was told that our generation grew up without fathers, because all of them went on the booze. I wish it was a problem only of my generation but I’m afraid it is far from the truth.

‘Did you forgive him?’
Sergey thought a little and then he dropped a meaningful ‘No.’

Indeed, it is something difficult to forgive I thought, remembering my father. But it is a must to forgive, to let those bad dreams go.

‘Why did you come to America?’
‘I also came to Virginia through the “J1”.’ Sergey said and fell silent.
‘When you came, what did you do?’ I tried to make him talk.
‘I was working on a terminal. I was parking trucks onto train carriages for transmission across the United States.’
‘How old were you?’
’19.’
I noticed how kind Sergey’s eyes were.
‘Why did you stay?’
‘I’ve received a proposal to park trucks into containers for worldwide shipping. I accepted.’
He really is a man of few words, I thought.

‘Why did you choose to live in San Francisco?’
‘Anya always wanted to live there. I was opposing for a while because I didn’t know what job I could have there. She kept insisting and we took off.’ He touched Anya’s hand. ‘I found a job at a construction site at first but it all got easier when a friend of mine told me about the Handyman application.’

‘Tell me more about it, how does the app work?’
‘I call it “a husband on a call”.’ Anya was teasing.
‘Jack-of-all-trades.’ I winked.
‘It’s all quite simple.’ Sergey was explaining. ‘The client requests a job, I give an estimation, the client chooses what fits him best. Actually I have plenty of loyal clients now, so I don’t need the app anymore.’

‘What kind of requests do your clients usually make?’
‘Often it is an installation, assembling or reparation of bathrooms and kitchens. I started with simple requests such as moving furniture and installing TV, but slowly I learnt how to build and repair stuff.’
‘Does it mean you can actually build a house by yourself?’
‘Yes I can.’
‘Impressive.’ I underlined “house by myself”.
‘If I may ask, how much do you charge per hour?’
’70-75 dollars’.

I looked out a window, there was a bittersweet Parisian sky. Suddenly I realized that I was tired. It is difficult enough to interview two people in one day, but knowing that I still have to develop the ideas for their tattoos and actually to do them made me nauseous.

I had to finish the interview right away so I asked the last question.

‘What troubles you?’
‘The future.’ Sergey answered.
‘Do not worry, I will make a good tattoo for you!’ I was encouraging him and myself.

I looked out a window again. It was pitch dark. I stood up and moved to another room, the better to reflect on our conversation and to return with my ideas.

Friends, Anya, house, wife, spring, Anya, friends, house, was flying and melting, not melting anymore, something heartwarming, in the circle of friends meeting the spring, spring, everything will fade away, spring comes soon, friends, wait for it, house, will build a house by myself, with my own hands, I will build a house by myself and live with Anya there!

‘I’m very much afraid of needles,’ Anya said.
‘Needles?’ I repeated, unpacking a needle.
‘Yes!’ Anya said and smiled.
‘So how do you pass a blood test?’ I was questioning how serious she is.
‘This is how: I faint every time.’
The way she said it made me laugh. I looked at Sergey. It seemed she wasn’t joking. His eyes wished me luck.

‘Ann,’ I whispered to her softly. ‘ Your tattoo is not a blood test. I will tattoo by hand, it really isn’t painful. I promise you will not lose a single drop of blood!’
‘I’m terrified by the needles, not the blood.’ Anya said shaking her head.
‘Do you want a tattoo or not?’ I asked in a tough manner.
‘Yes, I do.’ Anya said hesitating.
‘Then sit down now and put your arm on the holder!’ I ordered.

Anya placed herself in a chair and squeezed her arm between the knees. She will faint now, I thought.

‘Anya? Are you all right?’
‘I need 10 minutes!’
I looked at Sergey. He was calm. Probably got used to that, I thought.
‘All right, I’ll wait.’

I turned off the working light and waited.