Elena Fedorova

The red-haired clown. A novel


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Charles, you are not our son…” Schwartz paused.

      “What?” Simone asked.

      “What?” Charles straightened his back.

      “You are not our son, Charles,” the banker repeated once more. “You are a son of a woman, whom I hopelessly loved. As hopelessly as Schwartz Schtanzer loves Aspasia La Rouge… I saw Natalie for the first time at the ball and lost my mind. I went to her across the room, having forgotten etiquette, having forgotten everything else. I thought she was an ephemeral creature. I was afraid that she would disappear, that I would not be able to talk to her. I do not know why but I wanted to say a few words to her. I did not even think that I could discredit her, that my gesture could be misinterpreted.”

      “What do you want?” having blocked Natalie, a man in an expensive uniform, decorated with orders, asked.

      “Allow me to pay my respects,” I said, realizing that I made a mistake.

      “Edward Benosh,” having held out his hand, he introduced himself. Schwartz looked at Charles over the top of the glass, said: “Yes, yes, young man, Benosh is the last name of your parents.”

      “It is surprising,” Charles said. “This name was invented by Lele. Why did she call me like that? I never asked her this. I just accepted my new name as a gift. I was proudly using it all these years, not knowing that it was my last name,” he smiled. “It is nice to regain the lost kinship. I still do not understand what happened to all my numerous relatives? Don’t they want to use the part of the inheritance destined for me? Aren’t they aware of this? Schwartz Schtanzer shrugged, lowered his head, and continued reading.”

      “Edward Benosh was an amazing person. We became friends with him. I began to visit their house, large and beautiful house, where a lot of amazing people were gathering. There I met Eugenia Schtanzer the mother of Simone…

      If I knew that Edward Benosh was a leader of a secret society of comrades-in-arms, I would try to do something, to help Natalie and Charles. But… I found out about this too late when the house of the Benosh family was turned into the heap of ruins, into the dump of broken dreams.”

      “Please, find my Charles,” dying Natalie whispered. “Servants took him somewhere when this mayhem began. I know, I know, he is alive. He must not die. He is not guilty of anything. Find him, George. Save him…”

      “Ten years passed before we found you, Charles Benosh. But…” Schwartz cleared his throat. “When we arrived at the circus to take you with us, we only saw the bits of posters, fluttering in the wind. The circus left. Eugenia burst into tears. I was doing my best to console her. And she was crying louder and stronger. Then I ran to the field, gathered sunflowers for her, fell on one knee, and said: “We will certainly find him.”

      Eugenia pressed sunflowers to her face, became silent. We came back home, invited Schwartz, and made a will. I wrote this letter a few days later on my own. I needed to get my thoughts together, to calm my heart that was going to burst. This letter is my confession. If Schwartz Schtanzer reads the letter, it means that the bad dream of Eugenia has come true. We are dead… And you are alive! Be happy. Love each other as brother and sister. Be best friends. Be whoever you want, just be, be…

Your George Stowasser.

      P.S. Oh, I forgot to mention that Natalie Benosh was born at the end of the world, in the town of Charlottenberg. Maybe, you, Charles, would like to find this place. Good luck.”

      Schwartz took off his eyeglasses, closed the folder, and smiled: “Now you know everything.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Schwartz,” Simone said with a sigh of relief. “I am so happy that Charles is nobody to me. As nobody means everything, the whole world, the whole globe, which I can embrace, press to my chest.” She got up, clasped her shoulders with her arms, and screwed up her eyes. She expected that Charles would get up and kiss her. And he was sitting like a stone idol and was looking at the books behind Schwartz.

      “What is it, Charles?” Simone asked, having opened her eyes. “Aren’t you happy? You were afraid that I would want to become your wife, right?”

      “No, no,” he said, having rubbed his temples. “Just… Can I take a book?”

      “A book?” Schwartz looked at him with annoyance. “Why do you need it?”

      Charles got up, came up to the bookcase, took a book in an old binding, opened it, and smiled.

      “Yes, this was the book read to me before bedtime by a kind storyteller. For me not to forget his tales, he put a flower, forget-me-not, between the pages.”

      Charles turned and showed Simone a flower.

      “What a miracle!” she exclaimed. “How old is that flower?”

      “Eternity,” Charles said after smelling the pages of the book.

      “Now, I understand that back then, before bedtime, your father was telling me the story of his love,” having closed the book, Charles said. On the cover, it was written “The Handbook on Astronomy”. Simone began to laugh.

      “Yes, dad loved to read fairy tales from dictionaries and scientific treatises on banking. He wanted his daughter to be the most educated girl on the planet. And here I am…”

      Charles hugged her and kissed her on the lips. For the first time. Simone did not expect. She looked at him confused.

      “I love you,” Charles whispered, and repeated a little louder:

      “I love you, Simone.”

      She screwed up her eyes and raised her head. Charles kissed her forehead, eyes, cheeks, pressed his lips to her lips, as to a spream. They did not see how Schwartz Schtanzer quietly left the room, having closed the door behind him. He went to the terrace, where his Aspasia La Rouge was waiting for him. She got up towards him and asked: “Well, how?”

      Instead of answering, Schwartz hugged her and began to whirl her.

      “What are you doing? Stop this immediately. I am going to faint. Have mercy on me, Schwartz,” Aspasia said. “At my age, it is forbidden to make such sudden movements.”

      “At your age, my dear, it is exactly the time to make those movements and to be reckless,” having kissed her upon both cheeks, Schwartz said.

      “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, having released out of his embrace.

      “I express joy,” he smiled. “You were right, Aspasia. Charles loves Simone. He loves her truly. You won!”

      “If I won, then you lost. Are you so happy to lose?” she asked.

      “No,” he shook his head, continuing to smile happily. “I am pleased with your insightfulness, your feminine intuition, your strength, your… Madame La Rouge, allow me to kiss you.”

      “No,” having proudly thrown back her head, she said.

      “I knew this,” Schwartz sighed, impulsively hugged Aspasia and kissed her on the lips.

      “You… you…” she looked at him distractedly and turned away.

      Schwartz hugged her by the shoulders, whispered:

      “Forgive me. Forgive me, dear Aspasia. Consider my act to be foolish childishness. Give me a scolding. Just do not be silent, please.”

      She turned and kissed him on the lips. She pushed him away, blushed, looked down, and said:

      “If you knew how long I was waiting for this foolish childishness from you, Schwartz.”

      “But why didn’t you..?” he exclaimed. She raised her head, looked into his eyes widened in surprise, and confessed:

      “I was playing the role of an