Have you ever noticed that identical events sometimes happen at opposite ends of the earth? That in different countries we meet exactly the same people? That love stories of a kind of archetypal shape repeat themselves in life with a striking similarity of detail?
The two stories I am going to tell today are just such an example. And I shall also explain what exactly lies behind the similarity. One love story happened in the early sixties in the Soviet Union, in a small railway settlement. At the time it shook the whole settlement; today it is remembered by the handful of people it touched directly. The second began in the seventies, it is known the world over and is the more tragic of the two, despite its "happy end". There is hardly a person who has not analysed the second story, filling it with intrigues, schemes and every other kind of tragedy; and even so, I am willing to bet that you have not come across it anywhere from the angle taken here.
Both Karl and Volodya came from good families (allowing for scale): golden youth, they had everything they could possibly wish for. Both had reasonably attentive and caring parents, almost ideal ones — but, alas, rather busy. Both were bathed in care and grew into strikingly handsome young men. The whole world seemed to lie at their feet, yet both were in a constant spiritual search for themselves, concentrating more on their own sensations, trying themselves at everything superficially but going deeply into nothing. Despite an apparent outward formlessness, a carelessness, at times even a gaudiness, a disdain for formality, an urge to hide in their own burrow at the slightest excuse and a recurring, almost childlike depressiveness, most of the girls around them dreamed of marrying them. Neither Vladimir nor Karl, incidentally, dreamed of marriage. They drifted with the current, took life as it came, had fleeting romances and did not think very hard about how or where to steer their lives. Man proposes, as we know, and God disposes. And dispose He did.
Galya had come to a design bureau outside Leningrad on a graduate placement from a distant seaside resort town. Her employer did not want to take on young women who would then sit out their maternity leave, but her marks were simply too good. And her teachers said with one voice that they had not seen such a lively, quick-witted, capable and forceful student in a long time. She was good at her studies, at sport, at Komsomol work... If something needed doing, it was given to Galya and she always got her way. Clever, direct, ambitious... A tall, stately southerner with thick black hair, a wasp waist, a Black Sea tan and large green eyes, she stood out against the pale northerners.
She and Volodya saw each other at some Party meeting, and it was love at first sight. Neither of them remembered much of what the meeting had been about, but for years afterwards they remembered how for almost an hour they could not take their eyes off each other. It was only later that her friends told her a newcomer like her should not even dream of this heavenly creature — the whole settlement dreamed of him as it was, and his mother kept a strict eye out for someone of his own standing. It was only later that his friends told him that yes, the new girl had come up from the south, a promising specialist, in love with her work and with no time for men — she had already proudly turned down so many!
So before long Volodya and Galya met quite by chance at a dance, and then, even more unexpectedly, at a subbotnik, one of the volunteer work days. And off it went.
Mila had known from the start that she stood no chance with Karl. Karl, because of that same allowance for scale, could only marry for calculation, and therefore carried on fleeting romances with whoever came along without any particular pangs of conscience. What is more, Mila had a young man of her own: rather scatterbrained, unfaithful and capricious, not ideal, in short, but hers. She struck up a conversation with Karl at a private party mostly because she could. A sharp, cheerful remark, a hint of flirtation, his bright smile and his genuinely interested look... And something in the world changed for them both. Mila had always been a fairly bold and self-assured girl. Not one of those fragile "true princesses" in frills and flounces. She dressed beautifully but comfortably, looked at the world with complete realism, always knew where her advantage lay in any undertaking and knew how to get her way. She stood out from the other girls both by her directness and sharp tongue and by her habit of not putting off what she had planned. She took pleasure in life and was never shy of taking everything she wanted; she always had everything under control... Until that very moment.
They spent the rest of the evening looking only at each other. And then things somehow arranged themselves so that they were constantly running into each other in the street, at official functions, in clubs and at parties. And each time the bond between them grew stronger. He would toss her an idea and she, with all her forceful enthusiasm, would hurry to carry it out. This went on until his mother got wind of how often they were meeting and issued a categorical, all-powerful "no". Mila would not be accepted under any circumstances, and he could put the thought out of his mind. And Karl need not even worry about a bride: that was his mother's business. He tried to argue, tried to protest, but, with that same allowance for scale, it was useless.
— She is not your equal! Volodya's mother raged, in a most un-Soviet fashion. — Come from goodness knows where, out of goodness knows what! We will find you a girl of your own level!
— I like Galya! Volodya kept repeating stubbornly — where the strength came from, who knows!
He was spending far more time with Galya, and could already hardly imagine what it would be like without her. Together they pulled off things Volodya would never have managed on his own, and here, out of nowhere, the strength appeared! She gladly supported him and his plans and saw them through to the end. He admired her honesty and her pragmatism, her sober view of things and her ability to reach any goal she set. She was his muse and his example. And in the end his mother gave her blessing to their wedding.
Karl felt exactly the same beside Mila: all-powerful, self-assured, a leader. His word finally carried weight.
And destroy it they tried, with all their might.
Although Volodya's mother did in the end give her blessing to the marriage, that did not mean she had accepted her young daughter-in-law. For the first while the couple had to squeeze into his parents' house and share a single stove. Whatever Galya did was wrong, foolish or irresponsible. Galya, mind you, gave as good as she got, treating her mother-in-law now to proud contempt and ignoring her remarks, now attacking pre-emptively to get what she needed. The fragile peace in the house was arguably Volodya's achievement above all — he knew how to calm his wife and how to arrange things somehow so that she and his mother crossed paths as little as possible. Fortunately the newly-weds soon had a child and were given a flat of their own. For all Volodya's enormous respect for his mother, his closeness with his wife only grew stronger for it.
Karl's mother proved the tougher of the two — that same allowance for scale was at work again. He was sent off to serve, and a serious conversation was had with Mila, as a result of which she got back together with her former young man and then married him outright, bearing him two children. Even that, however, could not break the closeness that had arisen between her and Karl. All the more so as Mila's husband was thoroughly unfaithful himself and forbade his wife nothing of the sort. Karl and Mila went on meeting as lovers, and when his all-powerful mother gave her blessing to a marriage with a quiet, modest, obedient girl she had picked out herself, Mila personally approved the choice and encouraged Karl: it was to help him develop, and she was a strong woman who had coped with worse. All the more so as it was she who remained Karl's closest friend, adviser and lover, while the official one... The official one could safely be ignored.
The whole settlement marvelled at what Volodya had found in Galya, at why they were so inseparable, at how it was that whatever happened they only grew closer to each other. The whole world was against Mila, seeing in her a cruel homewrecker, a cynical bitch and evil incarnate, without giving much thought to how, in the face of public condemnation and in defiance of her own marriage, she went on being there for Karl, supporting all his decisions and helping him. And yes, in the end, thirty-five years later, the Prince of Wales (and you have surely guessed by now which Karl and Mila I have been describing) and the love of his life were able to marry officially. Neither public opinion, nor the existence of husbands and wives, nor the scale on which they exerted their influence on the world could stand in the way of their closeness. And Volodya and Galya lived their whole lives together, complementing and supporting each other. Yes, they had their quarrels too, and often Galya was too loud and too pushy, but at the first sign of trouble she would spare nobody for Volodya's sake. I know what I am talking about: they are my grandmother and grandfather.
Would you like to find out your own personality type? Or to meet a partner for your own pattern of simple, easy, rich relationships? That is possible at the Dating Club, where counsellors do the matching.
Want to know more? Fill in the form and we will call you back with the details!
