then applaud the musician until he started to play again.
Prokofjev? Schotakovitsch? Homers knowledge about music was too small that he could’ve guessed the composer.
But whoever had written those notes: The musician played them not just like that but gave them their own sound and a new meaning; yes he made them come to life. A skill for that made even Homer forgive the young mean the tempting looks he was throwing at Sasha like a paper ribbon to a kitten.
But now it was time to take the girl away. Homer waited till the music had died and the musician took in the applause of the audience. Then he grabbed Sasha by the wet, like chloride smelling dress and dragged her out of the circle.
“My things are packed. I am going after him.” He said while he distanced himself from the musician.
“Me too.” Answered the girl fast.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Asked Homer.
“I know everything. I listened to you two.” She looked at him like she wanted to challenge him. “An epidemic? Am I right? He is going to burn all. The living and the dead. The entire station.”
He looked at her and said: “What do you want from him?”
Sasha didn’t answer and for some time they just walked next to each other through the empty part of the station. Finally she aid slowly, searching for words: “My father died. Because of me, it’s my fault. I can’t do anything to bring him back to life. But there are people that are still alive. I can still save them. So I got to try. I owe him that”
“Save? For whom? For what?” The old man answered bitter. “You can’t cure the epidemic like you’ve heard”
“For your friend. He is more terrible than the disease. More deadly.” The girl sighed. “With a disease at least hope remains. Somebody is always going to get better.
One in a thousand.
“Why do you believe that you can stop him out of all?
“I’ve done it before.” She answered sure of herself.
Did the girl overestimate her abilities? Did she deceive herself when she believed that the hard and merciless brigadier felt anything for her? Homer didn’t want to discourage Sasha but he thought it was better to warn her.
“Did you know what I’ve found in his room?”
The old man gave the broken makeup box to the girl asked Sasha. “Did you…”
Sasha shook her head.
“Then it was Hunter”
The girl opened the cover and looked at her reflection through the splinters of the glass. She thought about her last conversation with the bold one and the words that he had spoken when he was half asleep and when she had wanted to give him the knife. She thought about Hunters face, how he charged with heavy legs, covered in blood at the chimera so that it went away from Sasha and killed himself…
“He didn’t do it because of me.” She said. “It was because of the mirror”
Homer raised his eyebrows. “What does that have to do with everything?”
“You said it yourself” Sasha closed the cover of the box and tried to mimic the mentor like voice of the old man
“Sometimes it’s useful to see yourself from the side. Then you understand more about yourself.”
“You think that Hunter doesn’t know who he is? Or that he is still suffering from his appearance? That that is the reason why he broke the mirror?”
The girl leaned against a pillar. “It’s not about what’s on the outside.”
“Hunter knows exactly who he is. Obviously he just doesn’t like it when somebody reminds him of it.”
“Maybe he forgot. I sometimes have the feeling that he is trying to remember something. Or that he has been chained to a mine cart that is rolling down into the darkness and that there is nobody there to stop it. I can’t explain that. I just feel it when I see him.” Sasha’s forehead got wrinkles.
“Nobody sees it but me. That’s why I said that he needed me”
“Sure and that’s why he left you.”
“I left him. And now I have to catch up to him, as long as it’s not too late. They are still alive. We can still safe them. And him too.”
Homer raised his head: “For whom do you want to save him?
She looked at him searching. Had the old man not understood anything even though she had
tried so hard? Then she answered with unimaginable seriousness: “From the man in the mirror”
“Is that seat taken?”
Sasha who was poking the grilled meat and mushrooms with her fork, winched. Next to her stood with a tray in his hands the green-eyed musician. The old man had gone somewhere, his place was empty.
“Yes.”
“There is no problem that can’t be solved!” He put his tray down, took a free chair from the neighboring table and sat himself next to Sasha’s left before she could complain.
“If something happens, I didn’t invite you.” She warned him.
“Is your grandfather going to be angry?” He was winking with his eyes. “Allow me to introduce myself: Leonid.”
Sasha realized the she was blushing again.
“He’s not my grandfather.”
“If that’s so.” Leonid put another portion of his meal into his mouth and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re very bold.” She said.
He raised his fork. “Persistent.”
Sasha had to smile “A little bit too full of yourself for my taste.”
“I put my trust in mankind.” He mumbled while chewing. “But I trust myself the most.”
The old man returned, stood behind the braggart and made an unsatisfied grimace. But then he sat himself on his chair. “Sasha isn’t it a bit too crowded here?” He was looking past her at the musician, ready for a fight.
“Sasha!” He repeated triumphal and looked up from his bowl. “My pleasure. Like I said my name is Leonid.”
“Nikolai Ivanovitsch.” Answered Homer grumpy and looked at him. “What kind of melody was that you were playing back there? It seemed familiar.”
“No wonder, I’ve been playing it for the last three days straight.” He emphasized the last word. “I composed it myself.”
“It’s from you?” Sasha put her fork down. “What’s its name?”
Leonid shrugged his shoulders. “It has no name. I’ve never thought about one. And also how could I express it with words? And why?”
“It’s beautiful.” Said the girl. “Extraordinary beautiful”
“I could name it after you.” Said the musician without any hesitation. “You would deserve it.”
“No thank you.” She shook her head. “This melody should remain without a name. That’s more fitting.”
“To name it after you would be fitting.” Leonid started to laugh, food got into his trachea and he started to cough.
“You ready?” Homer took Sasha’s tray and stood up. “We got to go. Please excuse us young man.”
“No problem!” I am already finished. Could I keep the young madam’s company for a while?”
“We are about to leave.” Answered Homer sharp.
“Wonderful! Me too. I need to get to the
“Could that possibly be the same direction you’re heading in?”
“It is.” Answered Sasha surprised. While she tried to not look at Homer, her look went over to Leonid again and again.
He had a certain easiness, something sarcastic that wasn’t meant to be taken in a bad way. Like a small boy who fought with a twig he made small, harmless strikes on which you couldn’t really be mad at, not even the old
