Hotel Ukraina

As I look down from where I stand I can see the beautiful bend of Moskva river, the busy highway of Kutuzovsky prospect, cars rushing by, although past midnight. I always loved Moscow, the city that never sleeps. I found my love here. I lost her here too. I close and open my eyes. The flashing lights from below blind me, and I almost lose my balance.

When was that, that I met you, Tania? I remember you passing by me in Kolomenskoe with a friend, you, girls, both laughing. You, Tania, in an almost translucent, silky white summer dress. Our eyes met and I picked up whatever flowers I could find, a bunch of dandelions, hardly a bouquet. But it made you smile, Tanya. I’ll never forget that smile. It will stay with me now forever.

I can feel the time distorted now. Everything suddenly slowed down. The sky above with a few shiny stars, what a pity you can’t see many of those in the city. Right, Tania? I try to reach the sky, to take one of those stars and send it back to you, so you remember me too. But I guess you don’t want that now.

I now think of our first kiss, when I touched your pale white skin with two specs of rouge on both cheeks, how I glided my finger against your red lips, smudging the lipstick, and making you a little angry with me. You pouted your lips, but for a second, and leaned forward to kiss me.

I suspend in the air. I open and close my eyes again. Nothing makes sense anymore. Not without you, Tania. The world beneath rushes by in a blur, I can feel the pain coming, the impact. I brush those thoughts away.

If only you could forgive me, I would not be staying here. But I don’t want you to worry, Tania, this is my decision.

I try not to move. Try not to think of what’s about to come. But my mind wanders. Gets me back to the bones. I can see myself from above laying there, limps stretched, bones protruding, jangled, lifeless, blood seeping from distorted ugly skin, dirty, reddened, weeping with blood.

But what if it doesn’t happen?

What if I fly like a superman, reaching back to the stars, taking the shiniest one, swishing back to you with the wind, this time with a star and not a bunch of cheap dandelions?

Enough of that nonsense.

Just the thrill of falling drives me mad, Tania. But I am ready to prove how much I loved you. How much I love you. Still.

Everything is swirling around, I can no longer hold on to this window frame, my feet are slippery, I’m getting cold.

Darkness, the air pushes my face downward, I close my eyes and fall.

That was Anatoly’s last thoughts before he jumped from Hotel Ukraina in early March, 2020. His body twirled and jerked as he fell. Somewhere in the middle of that grand fall, he thought Tania was not worth it. But only for a second. Because the next second — he found himself permanently dead. The love sparks extinguished from his lifeless eyes, suddenly fixed and vacant. Just as he predicted, the blood seeped beneath his now amorphic body, bones distorted, face barely recognizable, cold, pale, skin damaged, lips blue, mouth opened a little as though he was about to say something that he forgot to say.