Beyond the Appearances

The Hill

Mila observed the small town from a nearby hill, where she loved to retreat during the most difficult moments. The peace of that place restored her and made her feel more connected to the nature that surrounded her. That small rise was covered with birches and alders that protected a forest rich in life and fragrant with moss, lichens, and flowers, up to the unmistakable scent of the stream that flowed from a nearby spring.
It was that very spring that in ancient times had given the name to the small village at the foot of the hill: Svetovodsk, "place of the luminous water," referring to its clear and drinkable water. Over the centuries, many legends had arisen about the spring: that in ancient times it had been used for pagan rites, but then "purified" by Saint Theodore, one of the many Saint Theodores venerated by the Russian Orthodox Church. Thanks to that legend, the spring took the name "Saint Theodore's Spring," and many in the village believed its water had healing powers.
The hill itself was known as "Saint Theodore's Hill," although many called it "Water Hill."
Mila did not believe these stories, but she knew that spending time on the hill, close to the stream she could hear babbling and whose scent she could inhale, was a balm for her troubled soul.

She had always been restless, by nature and by being always on the border of two cultures: the Italian one inherited from her mother and the Russian one acquired from her father and the land where she was born.
Mila Aurora Alexievna Lavrentyeva was born in Saratov, her father's hometown, twenty years ago, but throughout her short life, she had often shuttled between Saratov and Italy, where her mother's family lived.
The Counts Giusti dal Pozzo were a noble Italian family residing in Tuscany; theirs was an ancient history rich in commanders, cardinals, and local lords who long ago had laid down their arms in favour of more peaceful vineyard cultivation. They owned vast vineyards in the Chianti area, producing highly appreciated wine. Not only did they deal in wine, but also in real estate.
Her parents' meeting had been quite accidental, at a wine fair in St. Petersburg where Laura had gone for work and Alexei had been dragged by a friend.

After Mila was born, Alexei was assigned to the small base of Svetovodsk, a few kilometres from the city of Ryazan.
Although the base seemed small and insignificant, it was actually a joint force centre where an artillery brigade of the Guard and a Spetsnaz detachment of the airborne troops coexisted.
Mila was 13 when she arrived in Svetovodsk, a town of no more than twenty thousand people, sleepy and provincial, living mainly thanks to the base. It was largely predictable that Laura, accustomed to a much more exclusive and glamorous lifestyle, would soon tire of that place almost 200 km from Moscow and of that husband who for some time had preferred his career to her.
After yet another fight, she had packed her bags and returned to Italy, not before asking her daughter if she wanted to go with her. She was sure Mila would support her, seeing her daughter's refined inclinations and taking for granted that she too felt frustrated in that insignificant corner of Russia.

Mila's decision to stay in Svetovodsk with her father had puzzled her, and despite asking for reasons, Mila always limited herself to saying that she liked being there, that she had settled in well, had friends and a life, and would be sorry to leave it all. Laura tried to convince her by promising a life full of opportunities, acquaintances, and reminded her of the fabulous villa awaiting her in Versilia compared to the modest house she lived in in Svetovodsk, but there was no moving Mila.
Alexei had been proud of his daughter's decision, explaining her attachment by the love Mila felt for Russia, but he did not know that in reality, Mila's love was equally divided between Russia and someone else: Nikolai Vasilievich Zaitsev.

Mila had seen Nikolai for the first time when she was 14 and he was already 27. It was love at first sight, a premonition: that young Spetsnaz officer was the man for her. But Nikolai did not even seem to notice her presence beyond a polite greeting. He was a man of few words, with a severe air; ice-blue eyes, thin lips, and sharp features that made his expression even more glacial and enigmatic. His dark blonde hair was always cut short as per regulations, kept under the blue beret.
It was said of him that he was cold, emotionless, a sort of android with an unnatural instinct for strategy and a visceral love for his country, capable of anything to complete a mission. He made no secret of his communist and nationalist ideas, which for many bordered on fanaticism: he believed in the need to rehabilitate Russia so that it could once again be a beacon for its people.
He was a perfect soldier but without a private life, at least in the eyes of most.
Mila found him intriguing, fascinating, seductive and contrary to what one might think, she had never thought of redeeming him, never tried to make him more human. In fact, those stories that depicted Nikolai as an unrelenting war machine intrigued her immensely.
She was aware that those 14 years of difference were significant, and even more, in Nikolai's eyes, her noble ancestry would weigh heavily, but she was convinced that over time, everything would soften and she would have more chances.

Years had passed and Mila had indulged in some flirts that, however, never led to anything. Occasionally she went to Italy, immersed herself in the glamorous life of the Giusti Dal Pozzo family, but always felt unsatisfied, as if that existence was vain compared to the one she led in the more modest Svetovodsk.
Nikolai made a career and from time to time had some relationships that always ended in nothing.
When Mila left her teenage years, Nikolai began to exchange more words with her, but mainly caustic remarks, provocations, even venomous comments about her nobility and the fact that she was just a spoiled girl playing at being a commoner, who had chosen to live in Svetovodsk more for a form of hedonistic self-indulgence than for real love of the place. Several times she had felt her hands itch and once had even tried to slap him. Nikolai had intercepted her arm and in that moment, she had perfectly felt the tension between them. She was only 18 years old, but intelligent enough to understand that Nikolai treated her badly to avoid exposing himself to the physical attraction that was gradually growing between them and to avoid admitting that this young girl could hold her own against him.

When Nikolai's irritating behaviour reached the breaking point, she would retreat to the hill seeking peace in nature and painting. From that small height, Svetovodsk appeared as a peaceful cluster of houses and some communist-era apartment blocks. The Oka River flowed placidly to its western outskirts while to the north, the fenced area of the base was visible, divided into two sectors.
From the hill, Mila could also see the ruined house that stood along the riverbanks, in an isolated area between the town and the base. It was a stone structure probably dating back to the 1940s. Time had peeled away the walls revealing the stone they were made of. The windows were long gone, replaced by poorly nailed planks. It stood there, silent, a witness to the passing eras, and Mila had grown fond of it, sometimes going there just to explore, to see if among the accumulated debris inside she could find traces of those who had lived there.
In that spot, the river formed a small bend and the shallower water was home to frogs, ducks, herons, and otters that easily hid in the reeds.
The ringtone of her phone rang out clearly in the silence, snapping her out of her thoughts. Mila pulled it out of her pants pocket, scrolled through the WhatsApp messages, and then smiled.

Sweetie, why don't you come here for a while? Look at this fabulous sea!

It was her mother who, as usual, was trying a convincing argument to persuade her to go to Italy. She had attached a photograph taken from the wide terrace of the villa, showing the cobalt-coloured sea in front of Forte dei Marmi, the town in Versilia where the Giusti dal Pozzo family had a fabulous white villa. Certainly, the climate was very different from Svetovodsk!
She sighed, then smiled and quickly replied that she would think about it.
To be honest, between the refined and rarefied world of Versilia and the more genuine and direct one of Svetovodsk, she preferred the latter.
The Counts Giusti dal Pozzo had many important friends, many connections, lived a life of art openings, parties, exclusive meetings, the world for which Laura had abandoned the family in Russia.
At the time, Mila had taken it badly, not understanding why her mother had left everything to return home, but over time she had understood that one couldn't be forced to live a life so far from what one wanted. After all, Laura loved Alexei and had shown it by never asking for a divorce or letting anyone else occupy her heart. She just needed her world.
Mila suspected that she had inherited that constancy in loving a person from her mother, otherwise, it could not be explained how after seven years, she still wanted a man who didn't even notice her.
Laura always hoped that her daughter would decide to return permanently to Italy,where in her opinion, she would have many more chances to succeed in her field. Mila, in fact, had undertaken studies and a career as a jewellery designer,attending various internships and courses in London, Switzerland, and Moscow. She was talented, inventive, and Laura feared that that wealth of knowledge and talent would go to waste, stifled in the provincial and remote world of Svetovodsk.