Chernobyl Graveyard (Available Now at my lulu page)

Chapter 3

3.

I finished three more paintings that I dropped off at the palace of culture. Now I had enough money to pay my rent for a year and stock up on supplies. I got home to a large package at my door from Zoya. With my arms full, I pushed the box inside the door with my foot and unloaded my bags. I took my keys and cut open the top of the box. Inside were two t-shirts, one for Iron Maiden, and one for Led Zeppelin. I set them on the couch and pulled out the coffee can that sat at the bottom of the box. I pulled the top off and dug through the coffee grounds. I dug out two plastic bags, one held almost a pound of cannabis, and the other held several caps and stems of mushrooms. I picked up my phone and called Sergei.

“Hey, it’s Iryna, you need a q?” I was short and to the point.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, meet me by the doorman,” he grunted before the phone clicked. I stepped out to my balcony for a cigarette to kill time. I knew he’d be walking. I met him behind Firefly one day and I could smell the reefer. Sergei was in his early forties. He was tall and muscular with blue eyes and short dark hair. His skin reminded me of milk and ivory. He used to be a body builder and special ops, until a back injury took him out. Now he spent his days smoking pot and drinking to deal with his pain. I put out my cigarette and walked down to the entrance of the building. Sergei showed up with in five minutes reeking of reefer. We took the elevator back up and settled in my apartment. I grabbed each of us a glass of water and sat in front of the coffee table.

“Let’s do business first and get it out of the way,” Sergei suggested. I pulled the baggie out of my pocket and handed it to him while he put the rubles on the table. He shoved it in his black back pack, I packed a pipe and lit it, before I passed it to him.

“How much did you get this time?” he asked as he puffed on the glass pipe. I shrugged my shoulders.

“A few pounds,” I estimated loosely. I pulled my cigarettes out of my jeans and threw them on the table.

“So how have you been doing with your paintings?” he inquired.

“Great, they’re really taking off, but what about you? How is your back Sergei?” I lit the pipe again and inhaled a plume of smoke.

“I’m doing alright, the back is getting worse though,” he remarked between puffs. Smoke was filling the living room.

“Let’s finish smoking on the balcony,” I suggested as I got up and walked outside. Sergei followed and leaned up against the wall as I passed the pipe back to him. The fresh air was revitalizing and clean.

“I never noticed but you can see the power plant from here,” he remarked as he exhaled a large plume of smoke. He coughed as he passed the pipe back, only half gone and we were already stoned.

“I love watching the power plant at night. It’s almost haunting,” I held smoke in my lungs and passed the pipe back. Once it was empty we went back inside and lit cigarettes before flopping down on the furniture. I sprawled in the chair and sucked on my cigarette, enjoying my relaxing high. I wouldn’t paint today, I would just enjoy the time to myself.

The siren cut through the muggy night, my heart raced in a paralyzing panic. Sometimes I feared the government would find out that Zoya was sending me illegal drugs. It was one thing I loved about the states- the drugs. I walked to my balcony to see where the sirens were headed. I later found out someone had tried to break in to Rainbow Shop.

I sat down and began to paint. I had started painting and drawing when I was only eight, my mother always encouraged me, even when I painted all over her white walls. She left it up and showed all her friends before she painted over it. When I left home for Pripyat, I painted her a large red rose garden on that same wall.

I never thought that my art would become my career but, it made me happy. I had chosen to paint a horse grazing in a field. I would take several of them to the Palace of culture and my rent, bills, and luxuries would be paid for. I kept saving and squirreling away money because I wanted to buy a car, I was tired of walking everywhere. I was happy, but I wanted more out of life.

Pripyat was a paradise, I had done well. The town had the best stores, the prettiest landscape, the greenest grass, and some of the lowest crime rates. The only thing it lacked was single family housing. I didn’t care much for the apartment style housing. The privacy was limited and with all the babies, there was always crying coming through the walls. It made it hard to sleep sometimes, so I got accustomed to turning on my record player at night to drown out outside sounds.

I set up a blank canvas and made a rough sketch of my next painting. I got frustrated and felt uninspired so I decided to take a shower and get ready to go out for a few drinks. I threw on some old paint stained jeans (some women looked down on me because I wore pants frequently.) I pulled my Queen t-shirt out of the drawer and threw it on. As I was locking my door Sætre was arriving home.

“Good Evening Sætre, How are you?” I greeted cheerfully. He was so handsome with his cocoa brown hair and twinkling eyes.

“I’m doing good, what are you up to?” He asked as he fumbled for his keys.

“Going out for a few drinks,” I answered as I swung my purse over my shoulder.

“After I shower I’m going out to, if you’re willing to wait we can go together,” he suggested. I jumped on the opportunity to go out with him

“Sure, I’ll wait just knock on my door when you’re ready.” I pulled my keys out of my purse and went back to my apartment. I couldn’t go out with Sætre dressed like I was. I pulled off my jeans and went through my dresser until I found my favorite jeans- still paint stained- all of my jeans were. I kept my Queen shirt on and put on eye liner and red lipstick. I paced around my house and smoked while I waited for Sætre

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