(Christmas story)

“Where…am… I? Am I alive or dead?” Maria, a 20-year-old blonde girl dressed in a German loden woolcoat in charcoal, gray lambswool polo sweater, onyx tapered pants and black Hannover tall boots, was lying under a scrap-heap of bricks, shelves and broken conservation jars. She looked up and down, right and left, focused on her hands covered with black and blue bruises crossed by thin bleeding cuts. Her whole body was under the wreckage of her Granny’s basement. “I am still alive…I feel pain… My right leg hurts horribly… They say that after death people feel relief and fly away through a bright tunnel… I don’t fly anywhere… I am still alive.”

A soft call switched the wandering thoughts of Maria. She looked around and noticed her half-broken and hardly blinking smartphone. She stretched out her hand and, straining her last force, touched it with her fingertips. “Wait, wait, wait! Don’t scroll it down! You otta know that you are a good person! Just concentrate and go ahead! Beyond the horizons, the great life opens its doors for you! ”

“I pressed some social network button and I still have a chance.” A flash of hope twinkled in the eyes of a wounded girl. She took her phone and tried to dial her parents. However, in a while the screen of her smartphone subsided and squealed.

“A-A-A-h-h-h!” The scream of despair filled the ruined basement of the private house of her Granddad and Grandmom. “It was a mistake, a real mistake, a stupid mistake. Why the heck did I have to come here from Germany? To take the documents of my grandparents forgot during the hurry-scurry evacuation? To celebrate Christmas together with them in Odessa the next day? Or to die here on the outskirts of Kherson, after unexpected Russian artillery shelling?”

“To die being 20…” Maria lost consciousness and, in a state of deep despair. scrolled through all the Christmas celebrations their family had in this lovely house of her Grandma Helya and her Grandpa Hrysha. Her grandfather was a great fisherman, and their Christmas table was always full of various fish dishes. However, the stuffed pike and coated herring, cooked by her grandmother, belonged to her favorite ones… Not knowing why, she laughed a lot, being in this house, where all the cracks and corners were filled with her childish memories…

Now, unable to get out of the construction rubble, Maria came to her senses for several minutes and, after a series of desperate screams for help, she lost consciousness again.

********

Gradually, in a state of some sort of fever and hallucinations, Maria lost the track of time. It stretched and shrank like a spiral cord of her childish yo-yo toy. She made several more attempts to attract the attention of rescuers with her fading ‘Help’ screams, and after that, again and again, she got short and long blackouts. Suddenly, she felt some warm hands, touching her forehead and hands. Being afraid to open her eyes, she asked almost silently, “Who are you?” “Saint Nicolas from Antonivka,” a cracked crisp voice rang out in her right ear. Maria opened her eyes slightly. “Antonivka? Five kilometers from here… Though, if you are Saint Nicolas, why is your beard black and dirty?” “Because I forgot to put on a white beard, to dress in a Christmas coat, and to take a shower before the meeting with you, Princess,” said a stern man in his early thirties dressed in a helmet and some uniform. After digging up the whole body of the injured girl, the man in a helmet took her outdoors and called the ambulance. Maria kept silence, moaning from time to time, and feeling awkward being touched and grabbed like a sack of potatoes by some unknown to her man. At last, she dared to keep on with their small talk, “Could you tell me what your name is?”

“Saint Nicolas,” the bearded man smiled and started smoking. “I know it, but what is your real name?” she asked shyly. “Mykola, and yours?” “Maria,” she tried to sit straight, but suddenly felt an awful pain. “I do recommend not moving, you broke your shin,” on reflection, Mykola took her leg and started splinting it and treating the bone fracture with some medicine materials.

“Ouch! It hurts!” Maria yelled out. “Grit your teeth and be courageous, Maria, the ambulance can delay for ten or fifteen minutes. The wartime is unpredictable,” Mykola gave her a once-over. “You look like a German Frau, what are you doing here?” “Long story short, together with my parents, after the beginning of the war, as refugees, we fled to Germany, and now we live in Bielefeld. A week ago, my grandparents were convinced to leave their house and to go to Odessa. You see, these day-and-night artillery shelling is a dangerous thing,” Maria made a pause.

“I see,” Mykola took a white bandage and finished the bone fracture treating procedure. “However, in this rush, they forgot all their documents…”

“And you decided to play the role of Mother Teresa and to die heroically under the ruins of their house,” Mykola lit the second cigarette. “I dunno, yes or no, but I saved all the documents. In our family, we have love and hate relations with bureaucracy. Sometimes, it functions as a black hole, sucking all our forces. I can`t imagine how they would live without any documents.” The long-awaited ambulance pulled up and in a sec Maria was in it. “By the way, will you call me?” She raised her head and threw her worried glance at Mykola, “You saved my life…”

“I will come to see you in the hospital, Princess…” “When?” Maria’s eyes sparkled like two lonely candles in a dark room. “Tonight, in two or three hours. Today is Christmas, and I am Saint Nicolas from Antonivka, you know. How can I not come?” Mykola smiled tiredly and gave her his visiting card. “Before the war I was a manager…”

“I will be there…”