If someone had told me just a day ago that I’d be begging a near-stranger to pose as my fiancée, I would’ve told them to get lost in the most colorful way possible.
But… Demyan’s wild idea, always marked by his peculiar way of thinking, struck me like the signature salad at this diner did back in my broke student days.
“Snow Maiden” – a small café tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. Back then, it was nearly impossible to run into any professors there, so we let loose as much as we could. Later, meeting up there every December 15th became our tradition. And every time after that gathering, I’d feel recharged for weeks.
This time, though, something went off the rails. First, a pile of issues at the company, then my car – which I pamper more than myself – decided to act up a bit.
The cherry on top was the drive itself.
I never pick up hitchhikers.
No, let me rephrase that: I NEVER pick up hitchhikers. It’s a principle, a cold, cynical stance. I don’t stop for anyone.
And I couldn’t care less if people think I’m a heartless monster. I have my reasons for it. But more on that later.
A few hours ago, I was just driving to our annual college reunion. I sped past a bus stop where a girl in red stood waiting. Red’s always in style, nothing unusual there, right? Yet something about her figure caught my eye. I even glanced back, and I couldn’t believe what I saw. The girl was dressed as a Snow Maiden! Sure, New Year’s is a week or two away, so what’s so strange about that? I shrugged it off and kept driving. As I’ve said, I don’t pick up hitchhikers. That rule applies to women too.
So, I’m cruising toward the reunion when the onboard computer in my baby starts beeping in that annoying voice about some error code NNN.
I bark the error into the search. Turns out, there’s no coolant in the radiator. Unbelievable. Did someone at the service station mess up, or did they deliberately sabotage me after that argument? I’m not one to pick fights, but when someone tries to scam me outright, I don’t just sit there. Anyway, that’s water under the bridge. Right now, I just need to make it to my destination.
As if answering my silent pleas, the heavens grant me a miracle. A gas station! Brand new, decked out with holiday lights. It wasn’t here last year. But it is now, and I pull over for a coffee and to buy and refill the coolant.
After that, I drive much faster. A few of my old classmates have already started posting pics from the get-together. It looks warm, fun, and carefree. I want to be there! Only at this annual meet-up can I let my guard down, stop being the boss of an advertising firm, and go back to being that goofy, optimistic student with rose-colored glasses.
The snowy highway stretches out beyond the city. Snow isn’t a frequent visitor in my neck of the woods. I bet it falls more often around Kyiv.
I slow down as a sign warns of a sharp turn ahead.
I take in the scenery. Everything is white, pure white.
And against that white, it’s impossible not to notice the bright red dress of a Snow Maiden. A girl, blue from the cold, isn’t even raising her hand to hitch a ride anymore. She’s standing there without a single piece of outerwear – no jacket, no coat, no trendy puffer. Nothing but a short red dress with white trim and three-quarter sleeves.
I’m almost past her when my foot hits the brakes, and the car skids on the icy road. The front-wheel drive helps me straighten out. I stop and stare wide-eyed as the girl tries to run toward the car. I don’t back up; I need a moment to collect myself. For some reason, I’m certain this is the same girl I saw at that bus stop in a small town on the way to Kyiv. How she ended up here, and without a coat no less, I don’t even want to think about. Nor do I want to dwell on why I stopped. Though, honestly, it’s simple. It’s one thing to drive past someone who’s just running late or will get somewhere eventually. It’s another to ignore someone who might freeze to death out here!
The girl brings a blast of winter air into the car, along with a heap of snow on the floor mats and a citrusy scent of perfume. I’m allergic to citrus, but who makes perfume out of real fruit anyway?
– Th-th-thank you! – she stammers through trembling lips, their shade matching the amethyst pendant and earrings she wears. I sigh, grab my jacket from the back of the seat, and hand it to her. I crank the heater to max.
– Do you need a hospital? Nothing frostbitten?
– N-n-no! – she tries to smile, but her face is frozen stiff, like a mask.
She’s so young. Twenty at most. A little on the curvy side, but it doesn’t detract from her charm – if anything, it adds a certain cuteness, as my ten-year-old nephew would say. Her lush chestnut hair falls softly over her shoulders. It doesn’t even look dyed, which is rare to see. There’s a bit of ice or snow clinging to one strand. She’s pretty, but not my type at all. I go for tall, slender blondes. One of those once showed me the hard way where the crayfish hibernate, nearly leaving me out on the street.
– Where are you headed? And why no jacket? – I’ve looked her over enough; now let her explain what’s going on.
– M-me? T-to K-Kyiv! – she shivers, her pale, almost bluish hands fidgeting with the strap of a small purse on her lap.
– Alright, we’re going the same way. So, what’s the deal with the jacket?
– It w-was s-stolen! – Her trembling eases a bit, but she still can’t control her voice fully.
– No kidding! Where were you hanging out, Snow Maiden, to end up without even a jacket?
– S-sorry, but if you’re g-going to l-lecture me, just stop the car. I’d rather get out! – she snaps, tilting her small nose up indignantly.
– Get out where? Into the freezing cold without a coat? Where exactly in Kyiv are you headed? – I change the subject. It doesn’t feel right to grill her now; she’s clearly been through enough and is just starting to thaw out.
– In Kyiv? – She pauses for a moment. – Just drop me off in the city, and I’ll f-figure it out from there.
– Deal! – I don’t argue. It’s really not my business. I’ll get her to the city, and she can sort herself out. Only… something tells me she has nowhere to go in Kyiv. But that’s not my problem. So, I press the gas. Thirty more minutes, and I’ll be at the reunion.
Still, having a stranger in the car bugs me a little. So does her citrusy scent. And the car that’s been tailing us since the second turn. But we’re not heading to some backwoods; we’re going to Kyiv. Plenty of people could be on the same route, right?
***
As we roll into the capital, I deliberately slow down. I’m waiting for a reaction from my Snow Maiden. When someone knows where they’re going, they’ll say where to drop them off or where to head. But my passenger? Zero reaction.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
– Listen, Snow Maiden, do you actually have somewhere to go?
– Of course!
– And where’s that? – I eye her suspiciously. Turns out, when she’s “thawed out,” her skin has a pleasant olive tone, not the bluish pallor from before.
– Well, I’ve got a friend here.
– Where?
– On Saksahanskoho Street!
– That’s a start. Fine, I’ll take you there. It’s on my way anyway.
Again, Snow Maiden falls silent.
Meanwhile, with my professional eye scanning the billboards, I notice that car again. A black sedan, still trailing us. What the hell is this? No wonder I stick to my rule of not picking up anyone. Break your own code once, and look what happens!
The damn thing keeps following. When we hit a relatively empty stretch between streets and alleys (I decided to take a shortcut to see if the sedan would follow), it suddenly speeds up and cuts in front of us. I barely have time to think “thank goodness” when the car slams on its brakes right in front of my bumper! All my extreme driving skills kick in instantly, but they’re not enough for the snowy, icy road. My poor baby screeches its tires, trying to obey my commands to stop, but still crashes into the back of the sedan.
I don’t remember when Snow Maiden buckled up, but it saved her pretty face from smashing into the dashboard or windshield. All she got was a sharp jolt.
– You okay? – I ask as I prepare to get out and deal with the idiot who can’t drive. But Snow Maiden’s terrified eyes bore into me, as if they could burn right through. From her plump lips comes a barely audible “Please, don’t!” as her small hand covers mine, which is already twitching in anticipation of a “man-to-man talk.”
A strange wave washes over me. All my life, I thought “drowning in someone’s eyes” was just a cliché for cheap romance novels. But… I freeze like a schoolboy, staring into those amber-brown eyes, unable to say a word.
– Who’s in that car, Snow Maiden? – I finally snap out of it.
– It’s my… ex… – she whispers with just her lips, her frightened eyes piercing straight into my soul…
***
Needless to say, I didn’t arrive at the reunion in the best of moods. My arm ached a bit, and so did my heart – the latter for my poor car’s crumpled bumper. But that’s a problem for later.
And, of course, I showed up with Snow Maiden in tow. I couldn’t just leave her in the middle of the city, especially after learning about her troubles and “meeting” her psycho ex.
We sit in the still-warm car for a few minutes.
– Listen, Snow Maiden, you’re coming with me to the reunion. So it doesn’t look weird, you’ll say you’re my girlfriend. What’s your name, by the way?
– Dana… – she lowers her eyes, framed by impossibly long lashes.
– Nice to meet you. I’m Vlad.
Snow Maiden gives a shy smile and unexpectedly squeezes my hand with her small palms.
“Thank you!” – she whispers, blushing sweetly.
– Just one thing: I’m not thrilled about your outfit. Tell them you’re an entertainer, and I picked you up from work, okay?
– I actually am an entertainer! – she smiles again.
– Perfect! So, shall we? – I step out of the car and gallantly offer her my hand.
Yes, I’m a cynical jerk, as my competitors, enemies, and sometimes even friends call me. But that doesn’t mean I’m an ill-mannered jerk. Maybe that’s why I feel the need to hold this girl’s surprisingly warm hand, given her outfit? Let’s just say that’s the reason. Though the thrill coursing through me at her touch is harder to chalk up to mere politeness. Fine, I’ll tell myself it’s just the lack of a decent relationship in my life.
***
It’s sweltering inside “Snow Maiden.” Our group has taken over the lion’s share of the place – that favorite wing from our student days. Guys and girls are laughing, chatting, and some, already warmed by a hefty dose of drinks, are trying to outshout everyone with a joke. Almost nothing’s changed!
– Hey, everyone! Meet my girlfriend, Dana! – I announce like it’s a speech, then settle into an empty seat, pulling out a chair for my Snow Maiden.
– Girlfriend? No way! – the girls exclaim in unison. – We thought you were like an iceberg in the ocean, cold and untouchable.
I let their comment slide and hand a mug of mulled wine to Snow Maiden.
I scan the room and my friends again. They’ve all changed so much!
Mark, my partner in crime from our student pranks, is now the mayor of a regional center. Serious, or at least pretending to be. But he’s not really here with us. His eyes are glued to a blonde bombshell of a waitress, also dressed as a Snow Maiden. There are way too many Snow Maidens around! And mine is sitting here, looking out of place, blinking at me with those scared eyes. Where did you even come from to mess with my head?
Another buddy, Victor, showed up late too, then bolted upstairs after some girl in a revealing dress and hasn’t come back. What’s with everyone today?
The girls gather to “touch up their makeup” and invite my Snow Maiden along. No surprise there – they’re probably dying to find out who she is and how she melted my icy heart.
I’m left with Demyan. He seems to be the most grounded here today. A bit lost in thought, focused on his own issues, but still my friend – the one I shared a single set of lecture notes with, nearly getting caught for that little trick back in the day.
– So, how long have you been with this beauty? – he asks, sipping some non-alcoholic cocktail that’s a rainbow of colors all at once.
– You won’t believe it, since today.
– No kidding. You’re right, I don’t believe it.
– It’s a long story.
– If you say so. But why call her your girlfriend?
– Didn’t feel like explaining the whole thing. Anyway, enough about me. Why are you so lost in thought?
– A fortune teller told me today I’d meet my destiny. I thought she might be an entertainer, but turns out she’s not.
– Nice. Now you just have to find that destiny.
– Yep. – Demyan smiles.
– And here come our ladies! So, the holiday’s getting closer?
I nod, but my gaze is drawn back to my strange Snow Maiden. What is it about her that’s got me so hooked? And, the toughest question of all, what am I supposed to do with her tonight?