Екатерина Бритько (Кравчук)

Отрывок из перевода “The Last Dance of the Spanish Flu”

If your soul reaches out to someone, do not resist. It is the only one who knows exactly what we need.

Erich Maria Remarque

Last Dance of the Spanish Flu

    I rarely put dates … I don’t remember when I started keeping a diary. Or write down thoughts on paper using signs, to be precise. I know only one thing – why. No doubts, in order not to lose yourself in time and space during Groundhog days.

   There was a 2nd wave of the Pandemic …

   The first wave of the Spanish flu fell at the end of winter and spring in 1918. Despite isolation and quarantine, everything seemed to be not serious. The epidemic did not affect my loved ones. I wasn’t as worried and scared as I am now. Perhaps because I was at home with you, my beloved, in my native Moscow.

Summer has come and the bony hands of the Spanish flu that got into the flow have moved away a bit from Europe. Should I be wiser, I would have refused an adventurous trip to the Cote d’Azur in July. Alex assured that everything would be fine, using his work and diplomatic mission of the Red Cross to combat the pandemic as excuse. My husband, my knight, my Alexei, as usual, strove to save the world, burning out and forgetting about his relatives. Back in Russia during the civil war, I decided to become a volunteer in a hospital. And here, in Cannes, I helped him in the clinic. What for? To be near him or just to see him? To be a pillar of support or just to be in his life? To understand my Don Quixote in his struggle with windmills? I don’t know. Alex decided to go to Cannes for just a month. I supported him. Perhaps I wanted to be weak and driven, or I love him so much …

The second wave was more serious, judging by the daily increase in patients and deaths! Due to the war and the pandemic, restrictions on movement were introduced. It was possible to travel only within the country and along the coast of France – Italy on a personal car. This way we got stuck in a small town in the south in the interseason. Cannes, despite the simplicity of architecture and small size, has always been popular. It’s the best vacation spot on the marvelous Cote d’Azur thanks to the healing air. Now this little paradise looked deserted, like most cities in France.

I would give up a lot to be at home, in my native Moscow! To take a walk along the lanes of Tverskaya, powdered with the first November snow. To feel the first snowflakes in my palm and catch them with my tongue. To be close to you, my beloved …

   Reality doesn’t fit my dreams at all. Only endless rains and gray skies of rural Cannes. In addition, the lack of any heating in the local houses! The fifth month of timelessness, boredom, loneliness. Looks like despair has already set in…

Only a short while ago, I enjoyed the sea, the sun, and the warmth. I enjoyed the air. It is so tasty and fragrant on the coast! The sea breeze, mixed with olive oil and local spices, with hints of rosemary, lavender and coffee aroma, drove me crazy. Now I don’t feel it… The noisy summer terraces of restaurants in Nice, the crowded shops of Turin, music, dances, songs and poems, the beau monde and the promenade along the Croisette – everything has died out! An end has come to everything that I has recently been delighted by and that I absorbed every day in a mad thirst to drink up life. The melancholic row of palms shrunk under the light rain. The azure hue of the sea changed to grey. This dullness reflected the gloomy sky and the mood of the people. Cafes are closed. As well as galleries, schools, universities, shops. Empty streets. Hopelessly tired eyes of rare passers-by. Faces covered with masks.

Annushka, my sister, I miss you and mom madly. Will they let us back home, to the new red Russia? We have been stuck here for so long that it will be difficult to explain anything… I hope and believe that I will personally tell you in detail how we live here, how Europe is experiencing the epidemic. If it happens otherwise… you will read my confused thoughts in this diary. Maybe this is retribution for my rash actions in the past. How can I know for sure?

The news say only emotionless reports of losses from the fields of the 1st World War and Pandemic statistics. Most of the sick are at the front due to the lack of basic hygiene and overcrowding. Poor soldiers, they are forced to inhale poisonous chlorine! Alex says that the concentration is not lethal to humans: “Yes! Mucosal burn. This will kill the pathogen!” And I believe him, his professional medical instinct. Or I want to believe that they will survive the flu. That they do not suffer from the pain of a chlorine burn, that they will not remain disabled from treatment and will not die on the battlefield. Everyone here says that the end of the war is coming soon, it won’t last long.

And for now, we are taking a daily dose of aspirin pills, a trendy and scarce medication that is supposed to save the world.. I’m not sure about this, because every day I hear about death nearby. It is terrible that young people are dying at the age of 20–40! The Spanish flu spares the elderly and children. We take pills and hope for the best. There is no other preventive measure.

   Despite all the horror, we continue to secretly have fun, bypassing the authorities’ ban on mass meetings. The «Fearless Eight», our friendly company, with whom we became close here, continues to gather at Marseille’s place. But more often at ours!

The hospitable soul of a Russian person, my reliable Alex, opened the doors for everyone. What scares me is that every day he likes the image of a person who fights an epidemic, who is cut off from his homeland and suffering more and more. I am judging by how much he drinks. Stocks of sherry, calvados, vodka, whiskey and wine seem to be inexhaustible. Even philosophical conversations with Ernest no longer bring joy. I was completely charmed by him not long ago… This a talented young man that I wrote about, my dear. Being from America, he tries himself in literature and he is always ready for adventure. He has mind of a philosopher and a great sense of humor. He has a ready tongue. He is young, 20 years old, but he will find himself in life, that’s for sure! Ernest undergoes a part of rehabilitation after an injury here and visits our «salons» more and more often to have a drink.

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