Hell and paradise

   PREVIEW


   
    Why Hell and why Paradise? When you read my book- I think you found answer. But if shortly-inspiration for this book  was my life in New York mostly 1995-1999. Even why the cover for this book: Twin Towers the highest buildings in New York in that time. When I see these Two I feel happiness and new building on the same place after 9/11 not evoke It. I don' t know may be it just my feeling, but all the book is my  perception of reality.
   The story begin from happenstance--casual acquaintance with American musician. Steve was not so famous, but he was amazing  beautiful personality and everything was wonderful in him, if remind Anton Chekhov: " ...  and face and manners  and clothes and  thoughts and feelings.
And plus he was divine talented. He was music itself. He  was magnetically attractive.
It was not possible not to fall in love with this irresistible man.
How Shakespeare wrote: ".. if love could eat, she would eat music..."
  But then other meeting with  another
 interesting man- James Bond.
How Michel Foucault wrote:
 "Power is worthy of love, and when it has a positive effect, progress brings knowledge and pleasure."
It was happiness-- to contemplate such       compelling understanding generous enough  in all his the best kindly exertions and plus it looked that he was  not cracked  nowhere.
New love gave huge motivation for spiritual growing. Love refresh life. Everything is born of love, it is influence on all sides of life.
There is a lot of poetry in this history, and if you asked only the artistic old side, you could create a beautiful illusion, inspire a golden dream, but
I am agree with Dostoyevsky's observation: "it is better to be unhappy and know the worst, than to be happy in a fool's paradise."   But it is really not so easy to follow this advice when one is watching a loved one
repeatedly relive the pain of loss brought about by well meaning "truth-tellers."
There is no dignity in living  a life of the constant emotional pain. But sadistic people created this atmosphere--  humiliation and sadism have much  less dignity then to whom they are tortured.
  And in many ways I wrote this book following  observation'  Michelle Fuco
“..The real political task is to ensure that the political violence that is carried out behind the scenes in them is exposed, so that people can fight against them."
We have to know where  we live.
It is very popular talking about fascism and Stalinism which was 60-70 years ago, but it is hard to see and write about that it is going now here in country in city where in the Centre building UN and Statue of Liberty .
   It is very difficult to talk about the manifestations of terrible sadism, experiments on living people, a gross violation of human rights and you live among people in the center of the world and nobody cares about you and your rights.
And again paraphrasing Foucault:
 I'm talking about the ability to create, about the technical difficulty of writing this book.
And not only because English is not your first language, what is happening does not fit into the usual framework, so I chose English and as a child, faced with a new environment for it, I learned how to describe it, respond to it as it should, learn to speak and think about it is completely for itself in a new way. I think that such actions can be defined as creative.
The mostly hardly was found definition for everything what it was  in that tragic and sad time and then shallow time.
 If we understand democracy, we will not be divided into classes, not ordered hierarchically  then it absolutely clear that we are extremely far from it, It is also quite clear that we live under a regime of class dictatorship, a class power that is imposed through violence.



                55 STREET
In January 1995, I rented a place on Seventh Avenue and Fifty-Fifth Street, a big apartment in Manhattan.
With me in the room was a girl of forty- five from the Philippines. She worked in housekeeping for rich people. I worked in bookkeeping for a seafood company. I started working there when I used to live in Brooklyn, but now it is very far from the place where I live. It is about two hours of traveling on the train and bus, and the owner pays me just $6 an hour. My duty was to accept orders for fish on the phone from restaurants and cafes. My boss, an old Greek, always bought good lunch for me from the restaurant and sat near close, too close, talking about his life—how hard it is, how he’s sorry that he left his own country for the USA, and how much he has to work now to support his family, but his friends and relatives who stayed in Greece have a much more easy and happy life.
I felt nauseated from the smell of the fish, I was tired from hearing different voices on the phone, and I felt uncomfortable having lunch with my boss.
I was thinking how to change, how to find something better and easy—more money and less effort. I know all in life takes effort— overcoming aversion and having perseverance and patience just serve it.
One evening, the girl from the Philippines, with a friendly smile, persuaded me to go with  her to a dancing place. It was a big enough space with a hall. The public was very diverse. It was an evening of dancing for adults. Mostly people were over forty. Some women were dressed very pretentious in long dresses with long foxtail and open chest. For me, it looked very funny, and they did their face with a lot of cosmetics. They looked like battered bourgeoisie in the
beginning of Soviet movies.;There I saw a lot of women who looked
simple, came here from a different country, and worked here as babysitters and housekeepers. They helped their family because dollar was very high and they were full of hope to find a good groom mostly even after forty who, later explained by my roommate from the Philippines, were still virgins because they were religious and responsible. I was dressed in a short skirt and blouse. I came with the promise of my friend to acquaint me with men who can help me to find a new job, and she really introduced me to a few men. One was a retired military man. He took me dancing a few times and asked me to meet with him and promised to help me. The other was a German man but born in the USA; he said the same. And then the other was a pharmacist; he just liked me very much and wanted to date me in the future. Need to tell that in that time special, when I moved in the center of Manhattan, I became a success among men. They all were looking for a girlfriend or wife, but I that time again started to miss Boris and my daughter, whom I was missing permanent, and my plan again was to make some money and go back to Russia.
When I met with Lexington, the German man, he gave me advice to start a massage business and make fast extra money.  Lexington helped me to begin by making an ad in one popular Manhattan newspaper and instructed me how I must be—that if I don’t like the voice on the phone, don’t go, and if I hear what I do not like. But he observed me and said, “Nothing will happen to you. Nobody will touch you. You look very tough.” Soon, my ad
appeared:
“Russian college girl make massage for tired Americans. 24 hours. In and Out.”
I made some preparations. I bought phone with answer serves, Canadian black suit, shirt, skirt, and jacket, fitting me very well, emphasizing my slender figure. And one woman for whom one time in a week I worked as a housekeeper gave me two new white silk blouses. Also I bought beautiful black silk shoes with high heels.
The massage business, staying one on one
with different men, taught me not to be afraid of men. Very often, I went to a new address, stayed one on one in the apartment with a new man, but nobody abused me. Thank you, American women. They taught them to be gentle.
Not just in public, but they are nice and respectful when there are no witnesses. Here, any conflict between a woman and a man, always the police will be on the woman’s side. I remember when I came to the USA, on TV was a longtime ongoing hearing on a case: one Latino woman cut the penis of her American husband, and the court approved her. It shows that even married men can have sex with his wife just when she wishes it.   But very soon, one event broke all my business.

         STEVE

It was March 16, 1995, on a warm spring evening. I was dressed in my almost new Canadian suit. I knew I looked decent and fitting, but I never went to a bar in New York, and in that evening, suddenly, I decided to come to a neighbor Irish bar close by. It was Friday, just on the eve of St. Patrick’s Day. I opened the door and observed. It was very crowded there. Suddenly, I saw a free space near a very elegant man. I didn’t think long; I went and sat.
“What you like to drink?” right away the bartender politely asked, holding out to me the menu.
“Absolute,” I answered.;I made my first sip. The sound of music playing was “Welcome.” I felt very relaxed.;My very handsome neighbor, seemingly inaccessible, suddenly turned to me. Oh, what a wonderful face it was. If the eyes are the mirror of the soul, it was a mirror that in one moment can fix all the damage, create harmony, fill you with light to enjoy life right here and right now. I was reminded of the words of my old friend: “Wealth is the man himself”—it was in this case.;He looked at me so carefully with the restrained greed of the artist going to capture your image for centuries and centuries. He looked at me with almost amazement. I felt really happy, as in like my early childhood when I was just over a year old and the whole family   gathered at the samovar at the table over which hung a beautiful pink shade with fringe in my father’s hands; such a serene state when you are loved only for the fact that you are you. “What you drink?” he asked with pleasantly vibrating voice, so touching, smiling. “Absolute,” I answered, smiling to his smile. “You have accent,” he noted slightly absently. “From where are you?”;I was feeling that he likes me and he was interested about me, and I understood that he is not the man who likes yes, yes—no, no, and I was curious what he thinks about me.
“What you think from where is I?” He started guessing.;“From Germany?”;“No.”
“From Fr“From Czechoslovakia?”
“No.;I am from Russia,” in the end I recognized. “From Russia,” he repeated with amazement
and asked right away,;“How is Russia?”;“Good. Democracy,” I said with sadness in my voice.;“But people hungry?” he said as if reading my thoughts.;“What is your name?”;“My name is Charlotta.”;And then he introduced himself.;“My name is Steve Benderoth. I work in TV. I make music for a commercial channel.;What about you?” he asked.;“I am an artist.”;Of course, I was not. But I cannot and didn’t want to say that I am a cleaning lady or  massage therapist or masseuse or economist or bookkeeper. It will look very prosaic. But I want something miracle like he is like my mood now. He is looking for a relative soul, and I don’t want to disillusion him. I want that he will be happy in that moment like I am now.;“I feel scared,” I said. I was reminded of the moment I was afraid to come in the bar. “With me, you cannot be afraid anything,” he said confidently in his own voice. My glass already was empty. “Can I buy you drink?”;“Later,” I said shyly.
“When later?” he asked again.
“When later?” the barman repeated with a friendly smile, pouring me a glass.
“And also I am writing poetry.”
And I read a few lines that really came to my head in that moment.
“I will put this with music,” he said approvingly.;“Are you married?” he asked.;“No, I am divorced.”;“Do you have children?”;“Daughter. She is eleven, and she is with my parents.”;“Why did you come here?” he asked again. “It is very hard to stay in one city and even in one country with the man whom you love a lot and with whom everything is finished.”
He looked at me with understanding and wonder.
“I am going through divorce too,” he said, “and I have two daughters, four and six years old. I have a house in Long Island, and tomorrow I have to go to see my children. Do you want go with me?” I didn’t answer. It will not be pleasant new woman and especially in their house. It may be even painful for her. I don’t want be the reason for somebody’s pain, I thought, but I didn’t tell anything. “Can I invite you for dinner?” he asked.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I said indecisively.;I felt a magical attraction to him. My close plan on the eve of back to Russia. I miss my daughter very much, and I felt that this new meeting will turn on me here again. I thought, from where it is unknown this cosmic attraction is such an incomprehensible yet sudden affinity with this man? We got out of the bar. It was a very unusually warm evening. It was the beginning of spring, March 16, but like summer. Steve was without a jacket even.
Soon, we were in a beautiful classic-style Italian restaurant. The hall was almost empty;
it was very late that time already. We sat at the table face-to-face. When I looked at him, it was amazing—how wonderful he was so excellent, magnificent, and superior.
And he looked at me with wonder and pronounced, “Madonna.”
I felt so full of confidence in him. It is like one sheet of paper torn many times ago suddenly connected and became whole again and everything came together so exactly and easy.
Later I wrote this poem:
I remember that evening in Irish bar, We were sitting there in half-nightmare.;Jesus Christ, Virgin Mary—
That thought suddenly came to us. We’ve known each other for a thousand years—
That’s our attraction’s secret.
What does this meeting mean When a moment equals to eternity?
The waiter brought the menu. I ordered salmon. I didn’t understand why, but Steve wondered about my choice. Our dinner finished after midnight. Then we walked to his apartment. It was close, on West Fifty-Fifth Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues. He has a small one-bedroom apartment on the sixth floor in the building with an elevator. When we came to his apartment, I sat on the sofa in the living room, and he told me about his life. Recently, his father died, and his partner too, like result he got depression and became almost impotent, which started a problematic relationship with his wife. He was talking and I was listening, but, mostly, I was admiring him, how wonderful he is. His voice—every word, every syllable, every sound—made big sense. I understood that a lot of sad events happened to him, but it is so nothing compared to what he is now and here, so unusual, marvelous, extraordinary with his beautiful face and astonishing voice that you want to listen to, like music. Voice in which has everything: feeling, sense, sensation, sentiment, pulse, significance, point, denotation, intellect, mind, intelligence, common sense, wisdom, opinion, account, and belief. Here I saw abundance. I saw a shining semicircle above his head. It was a halo—a sign of holiness, how it was later explained to me in church. Steve was a Protestant, but he does not go to the church. Then I asked about his religion. He smiled and said, “God is in my heart.”
Morning came not visibly. I had a short sleep on the sofa, and Steven went to his bedroom. In the morning, I did not feel that it was a night almost without sleep. I felt a huge energy between us, which was giving power.;We were in the elevator. A woman, his neighbor, was there too. He used to live for a long time in this building. It was his apartment before marriage.;“Charlotta,” he introduced me. “She is from Russia.”;The woman nodded friendly and told her name.;We went to have breakfast. The evening’s charm did not go away; it became even stronger. I was enjoying every moment with my new friend, and he changed his plan and did not go to Long Island that day.
We went to the street. There was a strolling celebration in honor of Saint Patrick. We walked little bit, and after, we went to my room. I needed to change clothes. In my room, we made love.
Then Steve proposed to go to a striptease place where his acquaintance, a girl from Czechoslovakia, was working. She was very young and very beautiful and lovely, and we became friends right way.
“I am stupid. I am stupid that I work in this dirty place,” she said, “but what to do? We don’t have legal documents for work, and our choice is limited and here with good pay.”
Steve said that when he saw her, all his thoughts lightened up, and she was wonderful, really. And also he said that a lot of men hide other women from the woman they love, but he is different, and he doesn’t want to hide anything from me. I accepted and understood his view.;We already said goodbye to each other, and he had collected his briefcase and was going to go by train to Long Island. We embraced and kissed. I did not follow him and look after him. I turned back on him and began to look at the fountain as the water fell. It was very sad. I thought that I knew his whole life and was saying goodbye for an eternity. Suddenly, I heard his footsteps. He came back. He changed his mind. He will go later; it was too sad to leave me. He suggested to go to a Russian restaurant that was nearby called Samovar. It was not too late, and there were not much visitors. The restaurant seemed huge for me. We sat at a table. The waiter brought the menu. I looked at the prices, and they were not cheap at all. I had no idea about Steve’s financial condition, and because he was not a businessman but a musician, I doubted his solvency. I had $100. I told him about it. He smiled. “Don’t worry,” and began to order.                In the distance, there was a white grand piano. A pianist came and played. He played wonderfully. When we left the restaurant, Steve gave him $10. We went again to walk on Broadway. There were shows with different sexual times. Cravings from one of the little windows, an African woman showed a full chest. We took turns kissing her like people kissed a cross in the church. It was late evening. We went to dinner again at some expensive American restaurant. By night, we were so drunk. I just wandered. We hardly got home, which was two  steps away, and taking a taxi was not advisable in the New York traffic, which can stand for hours. Steven eventually went to Long Island two days later.;This meeting completely pulled out of routine my life before. I became absolutely different. I was looking in the mirror and did not recognize myself. Who is this extraordinarily beautiful, shining, happy woman? I asked myself. Would I see him again? I have his phone number, but I don’t want to call first. My massage business continued, a man of about forty years, an art professional, came to have a massage in my place. He invited me to take a walk in Central Park. Then we went to the Metropolitan Museum, where the richest collection of paintings in America is. He asked;whom I worked for in Russia. I modestly replayed:;“I was an artist.”;He said that he immediately noticed that I’m unusual and that even it is clear that I can communicate with people from a past life. I did not quite understand what he meant, but it flattered me. I went out with him from the Metropolitan Museum. I was really very fond of painting and everything beautiful, but that day, I felt so happy that everything seemed beautiful and not only recognized masterpieces.
Happiness is a brilliant artist.
I was just thinking about Steven every moment.
It was at five or six in the evening, Monday or Tuesday. I came from another client, turned on the answering machine, and heard his excited voice. He called me several times. He really wanted to see me as soon as possible. The landlord told me that he called him also looking for me. He told Ivan that we are very close and he really needs to see me. I dialed a number and called. We agreed to meet at one of the nearest bars.;At this time, the customer called. The sound of his voice was normal. But when I arrived, it turned out that he is a student who earns as a watchman in a commercial place. The official environment was strained. I felt scared. I wanted to quit and run to meet Steven. We were in the back of a huge room, and if there’s something wrong, I cannot jump out. I was angry. I did not even take the money forwarded as usual. Finally, everything was all right. But I was unhappy with myself. Although nothing terrible happened, the guy paid off and called the taxi held before the exit. I was annoyed that when I felt like a queen after meeting with Steve, I had to climb on some production premises.