It was a mistake. We should not have walked. We should have called a taxi. But the night was mild, and we were tipsy. Our blocks of flats were just fifteen minutes away. After saying goodbye to the rest of the crowd, Oxana and I strolled home at a leisurely pace, enjoying the fresh air. I did not know my companion all that well: she was a friend of a friend. But it had become a kind of tradition to return from parties together, since we lived near each other.
“What a beautiful evening,” said Oxana, surely, like me, taking in a lungful of fragrant air. “I love this season. Everything’s blooming. Nature at the peak of its beauty and vitality.”
I could not agree more. This short time was indeed a feast for all the senses, and even at night nature lavished its gifts on us. As usual, we took a shortcut through some yards and almost immediately stepped onto a muddy patch, ruining our evening shoes.
“This is the first time I’ve worn them!” exclaimed Oxana. “And now I really wonder if there is going to be a second one! They were definitely not designed for such harsh treatment. But,” she added, “there’s no going back.” And so we proceeded ahead, trying to be more careful, even if it was not that easy in the poorly lit area.
“Gimme your bag!”
I heard a coarse male voice, as someone snapped my bag from my shoulder. I let out a scream and turned back to see a hooded figure in a sweat suit. Then I rushed away. As fast as I could, my heart pounding in my chest. I heard a female voice shriek “nooo,” and then a thud. But I neither stopped nor looked back. It was as if I was acting by instinct, propelled forward. I did not see the road. I did not see anyone. In hindsight I understood that it could not have been so deserted, especially not when I shot out from the side street into the main one. But all I remember was the pavement and the turns I took. Panting, I dialed the number on the entry phone at our gate door. My hands were shaking, and my head spun. Only the third attempt was successful.
“Who’s there?” my husband asked.
“It’s me,” I said in a cracked voice, licking my chapped lips.
“Don’t you have the keys?”
“No. Oh, just buzz me in.”
“Are you at the gate door or the block entrance?”
“The gate door,” I mumbled, but I was not sure he heard me.
Damn, all this small talk. I heard the beeping sound and thrust the door open.
The block door was ajar when I reached it.
“The kids are sleeping, why haven’t you…,” were the words Egor greeted me with at the front door.
But then he broke off, “Are you ok? You look wild.”
I shook my head.
“Bring me some water, please,” were the first words I could articulate. As the regenerating liquid entered my body, I felt the anxiety lessen. Finally, I was able to speak.
“I was robbed, attacked and robbed.”
“What?” my husband’s eyes widened. “Where?”
I recounted the events of the evening. Of course, there were even more rebukes and doubts about the rationality of someone walking alone at night.
“I wasn’t alone,” I reminded him. “I was with Oxana.”
Oxana. My racing thoughts suddenly stopped and focused on her. I remembered the attack, her high-pitched voice, and then the thump. I felt a knot in my stomach.
I needed to make sure she was ok. But how? I didn’t remember her phone number and, even if I did, her phone had probably been stolen like mine. She lived in the same street in block number 22 or 24. I could not remember exactly. And, anyway, I did not know her apartment number.
Suddenly I had an idea. I asked for Egor’s phone and called a couple of my acquaintances whose numbers were in his directory. No answer. They had probably muted their phones for the night.
But the thought was nibbling at me. I was at home. I was safe. But something was definitely wrong. I could sense it.
“I’m going back. I need to make sure Oxana is okay.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized it.
“Are you nuts?” Egor looked at me closely. “Haven’t you had enough trouble for today? What you should do is block your bank card and activate this app that can help locate your phone. And first thing in the morning we’ll report the incident to the police.”
I had to admit this made sense. I blocked my plastic card and locked my phone. I was not able to locate it, as it had been turned off already. Most probably it would be disassembled and sold for parts.
Now I was ready to resume the conversation. I closed my eyes and exhaled.
“I have a bad feeling. I just need to make sure Oxana is okay.” Then, searching for a word that would strike a chord with my prim and proper husband, I added, “It’s my duty. If you want to, we can go together.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I definitely do not want to. But I also do not want my sons to lose their mother. Wait a minute.”
He was back in a couple of minutes, fully dressed and holding something in his hand.
“I guess you forgot about this,” he said, showing me a black canister. Tear gas spray, I guessed. A couple of years ago, Egor gave me one for March 8th and even made sure I put it into my bag. It was actually the old version of the same bag I had that night. I never took the canister out so it was bound to be in one of the compartments. I just rarely carried that bag and had forgotten about its contents. I chuckled. Yet even if I had remembered, everything happened in a split second, while it might have taken me a couple of minutes to locate the exact whereabouts of the spray.
(…to be continued…)
Transadaptation Volume 6 – Meaning? – Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted
January: A Regular Train Trip – Mateusz Tymoszewski (Poland)
February: Growing Up – Adriana Uribe (Columbia)
March: Mess – Veronika Groke (Austria)
April: The Roads We Take – Svetlana Molchanova (Russia)
May: Need – Nadia Silva Castro (Brazil)
June: “Next Sunshine” – Jonay Quintero Hernandez (Spain)
July: Intentions – Narantsogt Baatarkhuu (Mongolia)
August: Planet Kyiv – Anastasiia Leonova (Ukraine)
September: Feeling like a Fool – Ulrike Bergmeister (Germany)
October: Stories of Outcast Souls – Armine Asryan (Armenia)
November: Ronaldinha – Alejandra Baccino (Uruguay)
December: Aimlessly – Krisztina Janosi (Hungary)
Background – Context
Transadaptation Volume 5: Of Flowing Vicissitudes – Life Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2024)
Transadaptation Volume 4: Material Dissent – Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2023)
Transadaptation Volume 3: Evanescent – Young Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2022)
Transadaptation Volume 2: Conceived – Childhood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2021)
Transadaptation Volume 1: In the Middle – Prelude to a Contemporary Transadaptation, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2020)
Peripatetic Alterity: A Philosophical Treatise on the Spectrum of Being – Romantics and Pragmatists by Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
La Syncrétion of Polarization and Extremes Transposée, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2018)
L’anthologie of Global Instability Transpuesta, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2017)
From Wahnsinnig to the Loony Bin: German and Russian Stories Transposed to Modern-day America, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2013)
Emblems and stories on the international community
Perception by country – Transposing emblems, articles, short stories and reports from around the world
Credits
Top row (left to right): 1. Saratov, Russia – Listening to music – NataVilman (Shutterstock); 2. Saratov, Russia – Cityscape – Lapandr (Shutterstock); 3. Saratov, Russia – Privokzalny market – Trolleway (Shutterstock)
Middle row (left to right): 1. Saratov, Russia – The Work City – Sarlynx (Shutterstock); 2. Saratov, Russia – Out with the family – Irina Wolfe (Shutterstock)
Bottom row (left to right): 1. Saratov, Russia – The way home – Trolleway (Shutterstock); 2. Saratov, Russia – Residential blocks – Irina Wolfe (Shutterstock); 3. Saratov, Russia – In the snow – Irina Wolfe (Shutterstock)
Source: The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed