Flight from the USSR

Gega

Gega’s father was also a well-known and successful Georgian film director who had made wonderful films when he was still very young. He was one of the first Georgians (as far back as the 1960s) to win prestigious international film festivals prizes. But even back then, he was a real artist and his passion was the creative process. He didn’t relish the prizes and awards. For this reason, unlike many Georgian directors of the older generation, Gega’s father refused to conform with many Soviet intellectuals supporting the regime. He lived only through the cinema. But it wasn’t in the interests of the Soviet authorities to allow such a standard. They hated having no control over a film director and consequently solved the issue by banning Gega’s father from making films. Needless to say, there was no official decree from the Central Committee that forbade this, but it was explained unofficially that he wouldn’t be given the opportunity to make films any longer. The Soviet authorities relied on the conformity of the Georgian intelligentsia and utilized it. But Gega’s father was a very determined man. He learned the craft of carpentry and began making wooden floors. Much of Georgian society at the time regarded such a trade to be something unseemly and shameful. They looked on with indignation at a man who refused to conform or curry favour with the government and the Party. Gega’s father, on the other hand, was convinced that what was truly shameful was blindly conforming like so many in the Georgian intelligentsia. There was much gossip and chatter; nobody knew for certain whether Gega’s father was really working as a carpenter or if it was some kind of myth concocted by those looking for a true voice in the fight against the Soviet government.

It was his son Gega who was a true talent. Thanks to his gift for acting, and many successful roles, he was invited by Tengiz Abuladze to play the lead role in his new film. Then, a girl appeared in his life that was bigger than any film.

This was Tina. Though their first meeting was strange and their relationship began with a row, Gega was madly in love from the beginning. After they made up from their first fight, they went on their first real date. Tina asked that it take away from the rest of the city, just the two of them, and so they met at dawn, on Rustaveli Avenue. The street was completely deserted. Unlike Gega, who was a little miffed and very sleepy (he had never got up this early) at the early morning rendezvous, Tina seemed pleased. She sat next to Gega on a long bench and looked onat the solitary street-sweeper lazily moving down the street. He swept silently, with only the sound of the autumn leaves breaking the silence. Gega felt the morning stillness, and looked at Tina. With her head bent low, as if afraid to wake the whole city, she whispered:

“It’s just the two of us in this city right now—you and me. Nobody else.”

“Three of us,” Gega said with a smile as he looked at the street-sweeper.

Tina paid no attention to the joke and whispered again: “In this city, in the whole world, there’s only the two of us…”

It made Gega remember that the French film Two In Town was in every cinema in Tbilisi, but he didn’t dare make another joke. He understood that he could easily lose this girl with another joke, maybe forever.

So he pondered for a while and then asked, this time not in a whisper so that Tina could hear:

“Only the two of us?”

“Only two of us: you and me. Do you want it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see me tomorrow morning, but earlier than today?”

“Earlier? Earlier than this… It’s still dark.”

“Before dawn, let’s meet and go up to Mtatsminda.”

“Shall we walk?”

“Yes… and we’ll watch the sunrise. Do you want to?”

“Yes,” said Gega hesitatingly. Although he knew, for certain, that he didn’t really fancy walking up the steep slope to watch the sunrise.

The first car of the day passed down the street and its driver stared with surprise at the couple sitting on a bench so early in the morning.

“Let’s go,” said Tina as she stood up.

That afternoon, Dato came by Gega’s place and woke him up. Gega’s mother, Natela, was glad to see Dato, since her son had been sleeping the whole day and was supposed to go to the theatre in the evening.

“He left at dawn, then came back, had some tea and has been sleeping ever since,” Gega’s mother told Dato.

By then, she already knew that her son was in love of course, and noisily opened the door to his room for Dato. Dato loudly clapped his hands, and slyly asked his drowsy friend as soon as they were alone:

“Are you in love?”

“Who told you?” Gega asked as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

“Voice Of America has already broadcast it,” Dato merrily said as he pointed to the American flag hanging on the wall.

“I’ve got to get up early tomorrow as well.”

“Your mom told me you got up at dawn today.”

“I have to get up earlier than that tomorrow. Before sunrise. We’re climbing up to Mtatsminda.”

“To take a look at Stalin’s mum’s grave?”

“To watch the sunrise.”

“I’ve never even noticed which direction the sun rises in Tbilisi.”

“Have you ever even looked at the sky in Tbilisi?”

“I might have.”

“Do you remember the last time you looked up at the sky?”

“No…”

“That’s the main drawback of cities. You can’t see the sky.”

A little baffled, Dato went to the window, looked up at the sky and asked Gega with a smile:

“Did she tell you that?”

“I figured it out myself,” Gega smiled as he joined him at the window.

“You really can’t see the sky from here.”

“Because the building in front is taller than this one.”

“What do people who live in New York do?”

“I wish I lived in New York, I’d never even look up at the sky.”

“Before you get to New York, maybe you want to come along to the monastery. Come at least once. Soso’s coming with us on Saturday. At least you’ll be able to see the sky if you miss it so much. It is a great place.”

“I told you where I’m going tomorrow. I’ll go with you next week.”

For a while they were both silent, then Dato changed the subject:

“Where’s the police station?”

“The police station is on the other side, where the yard is. If it was on this side, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”

“Why?”

“At night, they beat people in there and such horrible sounds escape that people who lived in the flats facing the yard sold them and moved out.”

“What do you mean they beat people?”

“Torture them.”

“Who?”

“Criminals. Well… you know, they never arrest innocent people here and…”

Dato became so serious and distressed that Gega didn’t finish his sentence and instead smiled at his friend:

“I’m joking, don’t worry.”

“I know.”

“But I still don’t recommend you ever find yourself in a police station,” Gega said.

“We’re off,” he called to his mother.

She came out of the other room and said goodbye to Dato before straightening the crumpled collar of Gega’s jacket. Gega kissed his mother, as he always did when leaving home. After she locked the door, Natela looked out from the window at her son as he appeared at the building’s entrance. As always, Gega knew his mother was watching him, so he jokingly raised his left leg as a sign of goodbye, without looking back.

It was still dark when Gega found made it to beneath the third floor window of Tina’s room, where a light was on and her silhouette appeared for a second in the frame. When the light went out, Gega took out a cigarette and lit it. The sound of hurrying feet could be heard on the stairs and as she appeared from the entrance, Tina smiled at Gega and thanked him.

“Thanks for what?” he asked with sincere surprise.

“For waking up. Getting up this early isn’t easy at all,” Tina said as she walked down the pavement smiling.

“Depends on the case, or rather, for whose sake,” said Gega, although he knew perfectly well that getting up so early was really very difficult for him and he found it extremely hard.

Tina said nothing in reply and smiled at Gega as if careful not to disturb the night’s silence. When they went up the old cobbled streets of Tbilisi, the silence was broken only by the sound of their steps. The ascent was long, and Gega was sure he would soon tire, but he didn’t. The chill of the dawn even felt good to him, especially when he looked down at the still sleeping city.

The sun, meanwhile, slowly rose upwards in the Tbilisi sky, and Gega felt like thanking Tina for bringing him up this hill. Her face radiated such happiness at the tranquility around, and Gega now understood that silence was more precious than words. He only broke it on the way back, when they were coming down from Mtatsminda:

“Are we going to watch the sunset from here as well?”

“You can’t see the sunset from here.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“Go to the sea.”

“Now? To the sea?”

“The sea is at its best now, the autumn sea.”

“Will anyone be there?”

“Only you, me and the sea. What do you say?”

“Yes,” said Gega as he hesitantly touched Tina’s fingers with his right hand.

It was already morning, and people began to appear in the street. Several girls, heading to school in their uniforms, stared back to look at the beautiful couple. What they didn’t know was, that when Tina and Gega’s fingers touched for the first time that morning, they felt like the most beautiful people in the world.