Maria Genova - Communism, Sex and Lies

When I brought my Dalmatian over to the Netherlands and gave him a bowl of dried dog food, he looked at me strangely.

‘Welcome to a prosperous country, sweetie,’ I told him. ‘This is the start of your integration. Lesson 2 is that you are no longer allowed to pee against car tires, because in the Netherlands their car is sacred. Lesson 3: dogs are to be kept on the leash as much as possible, so I will have to put you on the leash from now on. You can also forget running around in the mountains, because there are no mountains here. Don’t look so sad. I also have good news. Seeing as it’s not common for dogs to sleep in doghouses in the back garden, you can sleep in the house. Now that’s a treat, isn’t it? Look at it from a positive point of view and eat those biscuits.’

My dog had to live in a terraced house. I don’t think he thought it was a problem, but when I told my mother the size of a regular family home she replied: ‘Gosh, child, do you live in such a house? Those can’t be rooms, they’re prison cells!’

I had to laugh, but my mother sounded overanxious as usual.

‘Don’t worry dear. Your father and I will sell some land and then you will get money to buy something decent. I’ll also send you some money soon for your study, so you don’t have to depend on Frank.’

‘Mum, when you live with someone, you are dependent on them anyway. Frank doesn’t care about money and I can spend it as I wish.’

‘It doesn’t work that way, my child. When you don’t have any money, you’re dependent. I want to spare you that.’

I laughed at this old-fashioned way of thinking, but let her pay my journalism training in full. If I had stayed in Bulgaria, my parents would also have bought me a house and a car, because that is what all Bulgarian parents did if they could afford it.

My parents didn’t want me to be co-habiting for too long, because it still wasn’t accepted in Bulgaria.

‘Don’t you two love each other enough?’ my mother wanted to know during every telephone conversation. It was only when she finally gave up five years later, that we started to talk about marriage ourselves, but then only in the way of jokes to test the water. Our relationship was so perfect that subconsciously I was worried that marriage would ruin that. Could a marriage ruin the magic?

Frank wasn’t worried: ‘Infatuation eventually turns into love and that is just as nice a feeling.’

‘If you look around you and see the number of divorces, then you might understand why I’m scared,’ I told him. ‘Before you start declaring that something like that won’t happen to us, I would like to point out that all newlyweds think like that. Apparently, the infatuation soon dies after a marriage, because you are bound to each other and gasping for freedom. It would be a nightmare living with someone I was no longer in love with.’

‘Mer, there’s no 100% security in live. You could lose everything you have tomorrow.’

I didn’t believe Frank, because I felt like I had everything under control. I wasn’t aware that my life was made up of lots of pieces of a puzzle until I lost one of the most important pieces. It happened so suddenly that at first I didn’t know how to react. I knew one thing for sure: my life would never be complete after the unexpected death of my father. There was just one ray of light: my father’s age didn’t give him the right to leave this earth, but his life did. Not many people had lived such an intense life by the age of 44 that they could close their eyes with peace of mind. Why do we measure a person’s life in years? I wondered. It’s the most worthless scale there is. Some people are already dying from their 30 thonwards due to lack of ideals and courage. At least my father had made the most of every opportunity not to live a boring life. He was like a candle burning at both ends: it burned quickly, but gave a stronger and nicer flame.

Frank didn’t scrap marriage from his wish list. I was still hesitant, but from everything that had happened I was better able to put my doubts in perspective. It seemed I would have to accept that I could never be certain if we would still be happy with each other after 20 years. Perhaps that was the charm of such a commitment, because without doubts a relationship would become boring and predictable.

‘Mer, infatuation is like a firework that lights the night sky, but disappears soon after. Do you choose the fleeting splendour of a firework or the solid foundation of a legal commitment?’ Frank asked.

Previously I would have sworn that I wanted the fireworks, but I seemed I was able to radically change my mind. I had now experienced true love: it was not just a burning desire, a close friendship or a drug that you can become addicted to, but it was the sum of all these things combined with an invisible force that held them together.

‘Frank, if you want me to be your wife, then you’ll have to think of an original proposal. Otherwise it won’t happen.’

He laughed confidently, because he was never short of creativity.

I had no idea when Frank had planned his proposal, even though I had the sneaking suspicion that he was up to something. We flew to America to ski in the Rocky Mountains and after that we stopped in Las Vegas to warm ourselves up. I suddenly realized: I want to get married in this fairy tale city. Everything was possible here. A sea of light in the desert, a place where rich business men felt just as much at home as a carpenter did, where you were accepted both in a gala dress and a pair of jeans, where you could see a fake volcano erupt in the main street and see ships sink, where the Eiffel Tower, the Venetian canals, the New York sky scrapers and the pyramid of Giza were replicated and where on the rotating top of the 350 meter high Stratosphere the prettiest lit up city in the world lay at your feet.

Frank dragged me along many different wedding chapels to see what they looked like inside. I had a strange premonition that something was about to happen.

‘Frank, no joking,’ I warned him. ‘As long as you don’t get it in your head to marry right here and now without family. My side would never forgive me; besides I wouldn’t even want to.’

‘Relax, baby. I just want to ask something in this wedding chapel. Perhaps you could wait outside?’

Wait outside? Before I could say anything, Frank went into the white wedding chapel. I walked around the garden in circles, constantly checking my watch and asking what was taking so long. I was that nervous, it was as if I was about to get married.

Frank finally came out.

‘Done,’ he said. The lights of Las Vegas reflected in his eyes.

‘What’s done?’

‘You’ll see. You’ll need to wait until 8 p.m. tonight. Wear something nice, because it’s going to be a special evening.’

My heart was in my throat, but no matter how much I pressed, Frank wouldn’t divulge his secret.

At exactly 8 p.m. the hotel reception called to let us know there was someone waiting for us. I had no idea who that could be. A very long white limousine was parked outside.

‘For you,’ Frank said.

At the moment, the driver came towards to us and opened the door for me. I slid into the supple leather upholstery and sniffed the air of luxury. The bar, the champagne, the television, the partition between us and the driver, the tinted windows….it was such a peculiar feeling to sit in a car like this and not know where you were going.

‘I have something else for you,’ Frank said and handed me a parcel. It was so large that it could not possibly be a wedding ring.

Out of everything that had come into my mind, a videotape was the last thing I expected. I looked at Frank questioningly, because there was nothing written on the tape. He pointed to the video recorder, which hung under the television.