Alexander Pererva - The Cup of Galfar. Alderosa's Daughter

Translator Anna Gandy

© Alexander Pererva, 2020

© Anna Gandy, translation, 2020

ISBN 978-5-0051-0459-5

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

The sun was shining and sending its luminous rays through the cloudless blue spring sky. It was basking in this crystal-clear azure abyss and steadily gaining in power and brightness. The last remaining islands of snow were shrinking, growing dark, hiding out in the shadows of buildings and dark alleys. Streams of warm air were rising from the ground like shimmering clear pillars, and it was funny to watch the outlines of distant objects break and dance in the warm air.

The air was filled with the twitter of birds, pedestrians’ footsteps and voices, the hum of an airplane far up in the sky. All of these sounds were clear and loud, as if someone had suddenly pulled out an earplug.

And then there were, of course, the smells – the smells of melting snow, of moist earth coming awake, of budding leaves. This delicious aroma of spring was flooding the room through the open window.

Allie sighed and turned away from the window. She wasn’t feeling particularly happy. How could anyone be happy while sitting at home sick on such a glorious day? Catching a cold in the fall or winter is a totally different story. That’s when you can get as sick as you wish. But, catching a cold in the spring was ridiculously bad timing. Although, to be honest, Allie did get sick in the fall and winter too. She couldn’t boast of robust health. Her weakest spot was the ears – ear infections followed one after another in quick succession: right ear, left ear, and sometimes both ears together.

Right now Allie sat by the window with a warm compress on her right ear. There was an open book on the table in front of her, but she had a hard time focusing on the reading. There was too much going on in the world outside her window! She heard familiar voices. Allie’s third-grade classmates were walking to school. Allie watched them wistfully. Now they would turn the corner and immediately pull off their hats, stuff them in their backpacks and unbutton their coats. Allie longed to join them and skip-hop along the almost-dry pavement with her coat unbuttoned and her face bathed in the warm spring breeze.

Allie sighed again and buried herself in her book. Soon she heard the front door open. Mom was back from the market. She walked into the room unzipping her jacket, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks glowing.

“Allie, it’s so beautiful outside!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Allie muttered. “Did you just play a game of hopscotch?”

“No, I just bought a fish! Totally by chance. Imagine, live fish at our little local market – unheard of!”

Allie got up and followed Mom into the kitchen. There it was, in the sink – a fat-looking fish about a foot and a half long, with large prickly fins and bulging red eyes.

“Look, there it is.” Mom was putting on the apron. “Got the last one in the tank. Jean was right behind me in line. You can’t imagine the ruckus she raised when she was told that they had run out. Unbelievable! She has probably sent them all fishing for more.”

Jean, a woman of undetermined age and nondescript appearance, lived in their apartment building and worked either as a building maintenance manager or a concierge (no one knew for sure). She was known for her cranky moods and mean temperament, which earned her the nickname Mean Jean with the neighborhood kids.

“Mom, what kind of fish is this?” Allie tried to pry its mouth open with her finger. “Is it a carp or a silver carp?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Mom approached the sink with a knife in hand and gave the fish an appraising look. Then she shrugged.

“Well, could be a Chinese carp or some other kind of hybrid. Doesn’t matter really, a fish is a fish. As long as it’s not full of bones.”

At that moment Allie succeeded in pulling the fish’s lower jaw down, and suddenly they could see that its mouth was filled back to the gills with pretty large sharp teeth.

“Wow! Just like a shark!” Allie pulled back her hand.

Mom just shook her head in surprise and turned on the tap, filling the sink with water.

Lemonade walked noiselessly into the kitchen. He was a big fluffy cat with luxurious tiger-striped fur, lazy as can be and always on the lookout for a treat. He gave a big yawn and started his bathing routine, casting a questioning look around him every once in a while. He must have been asleep in the closet, as usual.

“Smelled the fish, huh?” Allie squatted down and gently pulled the cat’s ear.

The cat shook his head in indignation and moved aside. His whole look seemed to communicate that he was deeply offended by the suspicion.

Then Mom cried:

“Why, it is still alive! It’s moving its fins.”

Allie came closer. Indeed, the fish had come back to life in the water: its gills were rising and falling, its mouth was opening and closing mutely, and its round eyes seemed to stare at the people.

Mom tried to pick up the fish, but it wriggled out and fell back into the sink, splashing everyone around with a fountain of cold water. At that point Lemonade lost his patience, jumped onto the stool by the sink, and, standing on his hind legs, put his front paws on the edge of the sink. Just then the fish twisted itself again and jumped up out of the water, slapping the poor cat on the nose with its tail. The cat howled, rolled off the stool and sat down on the floor, snorting and licking his chops. His eyes were focused on the sink and were glowing a menacing green.

“No, I can’t do it.” Mom dropped the knife. “To skin it alive is just too much for me. We’ll have to wait for Dad. He’ll deal with it.”

Right then Allie had an idea. She could find some use for the fish, that is – some use for entertainment.

“Mom, can I let the fish swim in the bath tub in the meantime?” she asked hopefully.

“Well, I don’t think it can swim anymore.” Mom shrugged. “But never mind, you can try anyway. Just make sure you don’t get yourself wet in the cold water.”

In half an hour the tub was filled, and the fish was very carefully transferred there in a plastic bowl. To Allie’s great joy, the fish quickly came to its senses and started actively making itself at home, trying even to swim laps in such small quarters. From time to time the fish would freeze, stick out its huge head with bulging eyes, and, gently moving its fins, open and close its mouth mutely as if trying to say something.

“It’s time to have some fun,” Allie thought and, bringing a pencil, tied a thick string onto one end. It made a sturdy fishing pole. There was no worm to be found in the house, so a piece of candy had to make do as bait. Allie thought that the bait looked irresistible.

At last, the fun fishing commenced. Lemonade turned out to be its most active participant. He climbed onto the wooden rack laid across the bathtub and was watching with great interest the maneuvers of the live silver torpedo attempting to catch the bait. But every time the fish was about to get it, Allie jerked the fishing pole away, and the catch once again escaped the fish. Then the fun started all over again. This whole game reminded Allie of kittens chasing a toy on a string.

Sometimes the fish swam right under the rack. Every time Lemonade would stick his paw through the cracks and try to reach the fish with his claws, but it never worked. The fish would immediately go deeper, making sure to splash its tail on the water and soak the unfortunate fisher. The cat would snort in disdain and shake himself dry. Allie would laugh heartily. In a word, it was great fun.