Surprisingly, he knew our names, all of them. Nicolai must have briefed him well, for only Nicolai knew all the details. The stranger also knew about my friendship with Antonovna and my feelings for her, and told me that she sent her regards. I guess this was clearance enough. Only when I asked about further details concerning Nicolai himself, did he hesitate and become tightlipped. He pointed out that all my questions were addressed in the letter.

      From the way he refused to talk further about Nicolai, one could sense that a great tragedy had occurred that the man couldn't fully comprehend himself.

      Tony rowed us closer towards the Russian boat, so that our vessels could touch. I stood up and saluted the Russian captain, as he saluted us. I nearly fell into the water, doing so. Still standing, I received the letter from him. It was sealed in an official looking envelope.

      I thanked the man with a handshake.

      He asked me not to unseal the letter until we were back on shore. This was at Nicolai's request. Not that it mattered. It was too dark to read, anyway. After this, the man wished us farewell, sat down, and rowed his dinghy back to the sub.



      Oh, I could imagine what the letter contained, nothing pleasant to be sure. Was Nicolai out of danger, and Antonovna? I dared not to think of it, as the worst might be true. Silently, we rowed back towards the shoreline.

     

      The time since my last meeting with Nicolai had been filled with trials and agonies for all of us. Still, thinking farther back brought to the surface sweet memories, like those that a child may remember of imaginary worlds that exist only in the realm of stories, which it may prefer over the real Universe filled with the pain of discipline and endless hours struggling with school work. Indeed, our life had been a kaleidoscope turning, with beautiful and surprising images appearing. Every turn had brought new patterns of life and love, and often reality itself was turned upside down. What at times appeared agonizingly real, turned out to be nothing more than fiction, and what appeared fictional turned out to be totally real. Life is like that. When one steps beyond the borders of its conventional sphere, fact, fiction, and fantasy do indeed mingle so that one has to dig deep and with a great honesty with oneself, to discover what actually is real. And even then, the paradoxes continue.

      What we faced in our rowboat with shadows fast falling around us, was one of those paradoxes. Our world had become a mixture of hope and a feeling of hopelessness. The hopelessness was echoed in the landscape around us, a gray Universe of water and fog, through which a light shone faintly from between some trees off a distant high bluff, where our home was located. Still, my thoughts were focused more on Nicolai, the submarine, and on what it all meant, than on this light.

      Was Nicolai out of danger, or was he dead? I pondered. If so, then his struggles were over, but this would be a tragedy for the world. The thought brought on a certain quiet anger, a feeling of loss. Still, it made the days we had shared more precious, more golden, more secure, as secure as a fairy tale is in a child's mind.

      It was important to me that my memories of Nicolai and Antonovna remained secure. I needed to protect what we had shared together, what we had worked for together, and had agonized over, what we had established between us. It pertained to the substance of my being. All this welled up in my thoughts. It became as real and tangible to me at this moment as the Typhoon was that lay like a dark shadow in the mist behind us. What bright promises our days together had held!

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Stories about  Love from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche