The last days of Spring/2

Spring was fully upon us and Tanya was becoming almost inseparable from me. She would turn up at the hostel unannounced saying that she can't bear for more than two days to go by without her seeing me.

And on weekends we would spend the whole day together as she is always finding something new for us to do or someplace where we could share an adventure.

The other day we spent the whole afternoon strolling along Pushkinskaya Boulevard and then we had sat at the bench next to the bust of Pushkin, where she recited some of his love poems to me. The poems sounded so beautiful in Russian as she recited them.

“Do you know that Pushkin’s grandfather was African?” she had asked me one day.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” And she told me of how his maternal grandfather, Ibrahim, who was later renamed Hannibal, is thought to have come from somewhere near Chad. He is said to have been abducted to the courts of the Sultan in Constantinople and from there he came to Russia…
“Interesting. But is it true?”
“Yes…”
“Who knows he may have come from present day Nigeria then.”
“Maybe.”

After Tanya told me of Pushkin’s African background I fell in love with his works all over again.
"Can you recite the one he wrote to Ms Kern?"
"Yes." She said and she recited the poem I had once given to Adelaide. It seemed like an eternity ago when I had stood shyly in front of her door-not knowing a word of Russian-and handing over to her the envelop, which had the love poem inside.

But as Tanya recited the poem, I was remembering that feeling and the reason why I know that my life is incomplete without Adelaide. And for the rest of that afternoon I thought of Adelaide and I knew, without doubt, that it was her whom I wished was sitting with me that late spring afternoon, sharing those lovely moments as the birds sang in the nearby trees…

Tanya has been wanting me to make love to her because she wants to show me how much she really loves me. But I am telling her that love can also flourish without sex and that I am not in a hurry to sleep with her; I have told her that i know she loves me and that she doesn't have to try to prove it. But she is now saying that if i truly loved her that I will not refuse to make love to her.

I am very reluctant to cross that boundary with her because it just doesn't feel right-not yet. I don't want to spoil what is happening between us because I have started to enjoy her company and I look forward to the new things that she teaches me and the new places that we go together.

I have discovered Rostov with Tanya; I have discovered the many green gardens where she has taught me how to feed squirrels from my hands. I have discovered the beautiful Gorky Park, which though I had seen so many times because it is located in the centre of the city just off Engels Street, I had not really paid much attention to.

We have taken long walks through the park holding hands and laughing to silly jokes as the music of Ala Pugachova played in the background.We have discovered the ice-cream parlours and the restaurants and have watched other lovers sitting and staring into each others eyes, whispering foolishness into each others ears. And we have laughed together and wondered what it is about love, which gives it that power to make children out of adults.

And together we discovered the fountains and the wooden sculptures of the out-of-door museums, where we took so many pictures together and where we shared our first kiss.

I think that it was on that day that my resistance to her started to erode; we had stood near the fountain, which is located at the bottom avenue of the park; the water from the fountain had sprinkled on us like a very light shower and seemed to lend the air a very heavy scent of romance.

Around us, a few other young people sat on the nearby benches, while others just walked by. And at that moment she suddenly called for my attention.
“What is it?” I asked a bit concerned.
“It’s so beautiful...”
“What is so beautiful?”

She didn’t answer but looked at me with a mischievous sparkle in her lovely brown eyes; I noticed how her lips looked so full and inviting and I felt the intoxication of the moment, which seemed to beg for something to happen…

“You want to kiss me don’t you?” she said.
I did not say anything. Instead I had drawn her closer and kissed her passionately.

And I remember that after the kiss she had started to cry.
“Was my kiss that bad?” I asked worried.
“No it was very good. It is just that this is the first time I have ever been kissed by a man…”

She had told me that the caress of my lip on hers made her to want me even more. And after that first kiss I knew that I too wanted her and that it was going to happen. But I was not sure that it was the right thing to do; it did not feel right to become iredeemably entangled with this lovely innocent girl who carried with her so much hurting-yet who was becoming more and more obsessed with me as the days of spring crawled by.

It did not feel right for both of our sakes because my heart still belongs to Adelaide.