“— Miss, may I help you?” he called to the woman, noticing how she was struggling to carry two heavy bags.
“— Sorry to approach so suddenly, but it looks like the bags are about to slip from your hands. Let me carry them for you.”
“— Oh, really? Are you sure? Aren’t they too heavy?” the woman smiled shyly. “— Thank you very much.”
The man lifted the bags effortlessly, as if they weighed nothing, and strode ahead with a bold, confident gait. The woman—attractive and slightly plump—hurried to keep up, doing her best not to lag behind. The pair made an amusing sight: he was tall and sturdy, walking with a parade-like march, while she was petite, soft, and round like a freshly baked cheesecake, her curls bouncing with each step. She had to take two steps for every one of his.
“— Please, slow down a bit!” she gasped, “— I’m completely out of breath.”
He, as if coming to himself, turned around:
“— Sorry, I got lost in thought.”
“— If you don’t mind me asking, what were you thinking so deeply about?” the woman asked, looking at him closely.
Her name was Galina, and she quickly observed that the man wasn’t dressed for summer — his clothes were old and mended in spots, and he seemed out of place, like he’d stumbled into this world by mistake. Her curiosity wouldn’t allow her to simply walk beside him without saying a word.
“— Come on, tell me, what made you so pensive?”
“— It’s all about myself… about life,” he sighed.
“— What’s wrong with it? Is life hard for you?”
“— No, not that…” he shook his head. “— I just think a lot.”
“— Ah, maybe you drink too?” she asked cautiously.
“— No, not at all! I’m not that kind of person.”
“— Thank God,” Galya nodded with relief. “— And what’s your name? By the way, I’m Galina, but you can just call me Galka.”
The man hesitated, as if trying to remember or, on the contrary, trying to forget something important.
“— They call me Vaska… that’s my nickname.”
“— A nickname? You don’t like your real name?”
“— It’s not that…” He lowered his gaze. “— I just don’t know what my real name is.”
Galina froze in surprise but quickly pulled herself together:
“— So, you don’t remember?”
“— Exactly. I have memory loss. They found me on the highway, barely alive. Dirty, bruised, in torn clothes. I was lying there like a discarded puppy. Someone stopped, called an ambulance, and they took me to the hospital.”
“— My God… And you remember nothing about yourself?”
“— Not a single memory. Sometimes some images appear: faces, rooms, bits of conversations, flashes of light… But it all feels like someone else’s movie.”
“— What happened after the hospital?”
“— They sent me to an orphanage. They gave me a temporary name — Vasiliy. I’ve been living with it ever since. It’s good that I’m not on the street — I have a roof over my head, food, work.”
“— What kind of work do you do?”
“— Whatever comes my way. Odd jobs: loader, market helper, sometimes I help the butcher, cleaning. I earn a little, but enough to live.”
“— And what did you do before? Do you remember anything?”
Nothing. It’s like I was born again. I had to learn everything from scratch. Not crawling, but living.”
“— You’ve had a tough fate, Vasya. But if you haven’t broken down, you’ll manage going forward. Memory is unpredictable: today it’s silent, tomorrow it might suddenly come back.”
“— Maybe you’re right…”
“— Of course I’m right! Why torture yourself over what you don’t remember? Live with what you have. And I see you’re a strong, hardworking guy. Would you like to find a job?”
“— I’d really like that.”
“— Then come with me. I’ll talk to my employer. She has a big house, a lot to do. Maybe we’ll find something for you.”
“— That’s great. Let’s go, what are we waiting for?”
Only then did Vasiliy realize they had been standing still for several minutes, attracting the attention of passersby.
“— Is it far to go?”
“— No, very close. I usually go by car, but today the driver is busy — so I came on foot. We ordered a turkey for the employer.”
“— And what do you do for her?”
“— I’m a cook. The job is hard, but the conditions are good. The employer is kind, though quiet. She changed a lot after the death of her son and husband. But she pays generously and treats no one badly.”
They came to a set of tall wrought-iron gates. Beyond them stood a two-story brick house, nestled among lush greenery. Jasmine blossomed on both sides of the gate, its sweet fragrance hanging in the air. Vasiliy came to an abrupt stop. A feeling stirred within him, as if a memory was about to surface — but then it slipped away like a wisp of smoke.
“— Why did you stop? Come on, don’t be afraid.”
They entered the house, walked along a neat path, and ended up in the kitchen — spacious, bright, cozy, filled with the smell of home-cooked food.
“— Here we are. This is my little world — here are my pots and pans. Come in, look around. Meanwhile, I’ll bring lunch to the employer and ask about work for you. Something will surely turn up.”
Vasiliy looked around. For the first time in a long while, he felt a strange sensation — warmth, comfort, and even a certain familiarity.
“— Sit for a bit, I’ll be quick. And eat — you must be hungry?” Galina smiled.
After a few minutes, a plate of hot food appeared in front of him, emitting a delightful aroma.
“— Here, try this. It’s still warm. I’ll be back soon.”
“— Thank you… I don’t even know how to thank you…”
“— Don’t mention it!” Galya waved her hand. “— Just eat.”