Саша Кая – I love her (страница 2)

"No, not now… Now I'm just a coach. But if you'd seen me ten years ago…"

"You were in school then, I suppose?"

"You were in school then, and I won the title, I was twenty-three.

She's older than I thought! I'd never have guessed she was more than thirty… twenty-five… That doesn’t change anything! What difference does it make?

"You reminded me of the years, and I remembered that today is our anniversary…"

"Wedding?"

"No," she said, barely suppressing a smile. "That was before I met the man you know as my husband."

"Isn't he your husband?"

I thought they'd tell me they were undercover spies, and that she was actually completely free, but…

"No, no. The real deal. It happened exactly seven years ago. My girlfriends took me somewhere—for a laugh, they said. Things like that don't happen back home."

"Like what?"

I was already curious.

"Such establishments."

"What establishments?"

"A place where men dressed in women's clothes sing."

She answered as if I might later say, "Big deal! We're really used to going to places like this on weekends."

"When I first saw him, he performed the song "Quando nasce un amore" (Italian: "when love is born") by singer Anna Oxa on stage, and I was sitting at a table in the fourth row, feeling like I was drunk. I hardly drink, but it's absolutely clear: I was experiencing a magical intoxication. I smiled and couldn't calm down. But he didn't make me laugh – he gave me joy… And when his gaze accidentally fell on me, completely accidentally and for a few seconds, I crawled under the table. Such unbridled energy – and directed entirely at me!”

"How did it all end?" I was eager to know. Frankly, I could barely restrain myself from laughing: how else could this funny story end except with an ending?

"And it all ended with me coming there every Friday. It was the highlight of my week, the happiest. A place where I was myself, and for everyone else, a spectator, watching what was happening from the sidelines. But suddenly that very same artist made me feel involved in what was happening: he began to look into my eyes longer and longer each time. Can you imagine? In my eyes! At me! And this despite the overwhelming success of the rest of the audience. The audience applauded, shouted, sang along, but I barely moved, silently enjoying myself. I always sat in the same place, the audience changed, and no one could discern where exactly the performer was looking. If anyone looked back, they were all looking at some guy, but not at me.

I was sure they were looking at her. If there were men in the audience, of course.

– And then I stopped going there. And I did the right thing!

– I missed about two or three Friday nights,” she continued. “It was an eternity. Those days, I felt, to put it mildly, lousy. What should have passed in a couple of days didn't leave me for a minute. I repeated to myself what I'd learned since childhood: remember, a woman's happiness lies in being protected and cared for, not in being run from. I was sure that if I went there again, he would think I was pursuing him, chasing after him. So, I decided to suppress all these feelings. Let me, I told myself, have pleasant, untainted memories: an attentive, confident… and tender look in my direction…”

Women! Why do you need this? Why are you drawn to effeminate creatures? You're the same way! You should have a masculine man by your side – strong, powerful, rough… just like the posters on the wall! I thought that was the end of it. Although the conversation left a bad taste in my mouth, I was glad it was gone. And then, suddenly, she stepped on the gas…

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