A Beautiful Distraction

 

A beautiful distraction

The dream was always the same; he’d be walking with his father by the river on a warm summer’s day, when out of the vaulted blue sky the jets would scream towards them. The noise was deafening as they roared overhead just above the top of the trees which lined the banks of the Bug River. He knew the distinctive triangular shape of the SU57s and that they were Russian. He pressed his face to the black earth as they passed and the noise diminished. When he sat up to look for his father, he was gone.

Lexi awoke with a start and sat up in bed, reaching for his water bottle. He opened the curtains to a beautiful sunny morning. He had learned quickly that the weather in Scotland was unpredictable although this, the last day of July  looked set fair. He swung his legs out of the bed, glancing at the yellow and blue Ukrainian flag adorning his bedroom wall. Beneath it, on the dresser was picture of his father. Where was he today? Lexi wondered. The last he had heard from home his old man had joined the rest of the 79^th Brigade in the Donbas. They got the odd letter from his grandmother, but she had heard nothing from Lexi’s dad in three months. He thought about his father every single day and hoped that they’d all be reunited in happier times.

His phone buzzed on the bedside cabinet and he smiled as he answered it, knowing exactly who it was. ‘Aw right Kraft Cheese?’ said the familiar voice of Ross McAlinden, ‘remember the train is at two today. I’ll be banging on yer door at half wan.’ Ross was the first friend Lexi had made at school when he arrived from Mykolaiv that spring. He had introduced himself as Rosco and when Lexi shook his hand and said his name was Olexsiy Kravchenko, Rosco had instantly christened Lexi Kraft Cheese and it had stuck. ‘I’ll be ready, Rosco. Remember to bring the tickets.’ Rosco replied in that heavy Scottish accent of his, ‘Nae fear there, mucker. They’re in ma sky rocket the noo!’ Lexi smiled, ‘I have no idea what you are saying. Could you try that again in English?’

‘You be careful in that Glasgow,’ his mother had warned him in the halting English she insisted they speak at home, ‘I hear from neighbour it is rough place.’ Lexi smiled, ‘no rougher that Ukraine at the moment, mama.’ She shrugged, ‘yes, but you know what football people do. Just be safe.’ Lexi looked at his mother, she had aged in the six months they’d been in Scotland. Some nights he could hear her crying. It must have been so hard on her leaving her family, her man and her country before heading to a foreign land on the wet and windy periphery of Europe. But once Mykolaiv had been targeted by missiles and artillery, it was clearly better that they leave.

The station was already full of boisterous football fans by the time Lexi and Rosco arrived. They were joined by a few other teenagers from the school, all excited to get to the big match. Most wear sporting something green and a good few wore Celtic shirts. ‘Alright, Lexi boy,’ a gangling youth called Dominic smiled, ‘first match for you?’ Lexi nodded, ‘I’ve been to football games back home but this is my first in Scotland.’ ‘You’ll enjoy it. Full stadium tifo and Celtic get the trophy for winning the league last year.’ Lexi nodded but before he could respond, the Glasgow bound train pulled into the station and a cheer went up. ‘Rosco put his arm around his shoulder, ‘here we go Kraft Cheese!’

They entered an already busy carriage and had to settle for a standing space just inside the door. Lexi could hear singing from further along the carriage and some of the supporters were drinking beer despite the signs on the train doors saying it was illegal. He could see the rough comradeship supporting a common cause brought the fans, that was the same in any country. As he gazed out the window at the peaceful summer fields flashing past, he wondered what his first trip to Glasgow would bring.

To his right, two older women were sitting deep in discussion. He recognised immediately that were speaking Ukrainian. The noise of the train and the singing of the Celtic fans made it hard for him to hear much beyond a few snatches of what they were saying. Their conversation merged into the noise around them…’my Lucasz is in Mariupol, may God protect him… Jota on the wing, Jota, Jota on the wing…. You must be so worried… when he scores, he makes the Celtic sing… Bohdana is in Germany, she has a job now… our superstar from Portugal… will we ever get to go home?’ Lexi wondered that himself sometimes. The worries of these two women were invisible to those around him who were more concerned about a football match.

As hundreds of fans spilled out of the station and into the bright sunshine, there was a happy mood abroad. Lexi crossed George Square with his friends, gazing at the huge war memorial, guarded by two white lions. It seems nowhere was untouched by war. Rosco saw him glancing at the memorial, ‘thinking of yer old man?’ Lexi nodded, ‘yes; every single day.’ Rosco put his arm around his shoulder, ‘one thing I like about watching Celtic is that it makes me forget my worries for a while. I stoap thinking aboot my plooks, about Tania in fifth year and aboot my maths exam.’ Lexi smiled and nodded, ‘Tania is a good-looking girl.’ Rosco smiled, ‘good looking? She’s a babe, she’s the Queen of Babe-alonia!’ Lexi laughed, ‘you’re a funny guy, Rosco. Now tell me, what are these ‘plooks’ you speak of?’

Olexsiy Kravchenko gazed around the great bowl of Celtic Park as he held his square of plastic up like almost 60,000 others. They created a spellbinding mosaic which he had to admit was like nothing he had ever seen in his life. He glanced at Rosco and the others, they were lost in the moment. Perhaps that was what he meant when he said it made him forget his worries for a while. As the game started, the throbbing drums of the ultras away to his left boomed out as they led the singing. It took Celtic just four minutes to score when blonde defender, Welsh headed home. The noise was deafening. Lexi remembered going to see MFC Mykolaiv with his father but it was nothing like this.

Aberdeen held on after that and did well to keep themselves in the match till the 75^th minute when Celtic winger, Jota, fired an unstoppable shot high into the net. Again, the crowd erupted and left Lexi wishing he knew some of the songs which spilled from the stands onto the pitch, like a love song to their team. And then it was over. Lexi had to admit that whole spectacle drew him in and left him spellbound at times. ‘That was quite something, Rosco,’ he said to his friend as they trooped from the stadium. ‘That you a Jungle Jim noo?’ his friend replied in that impenetrable Scottish dialect of his. Lexi grinned, ‘if that’s a good thing, then yes, I’m a Jungle Jim.’ Rosco returned his smile, ‘good man, always knew ye were wan of the good guys.’

As the train back to Grahamston swayed and rattled over the tracks, the group of friends sat on either side of a table discussing the events of the day in happy tones. ‘That was some goal fae Jota,’ Dominic said, ‘he’s gonnae be great this season.’ Rosco nodded, ‘big Ange looks like he might get a tune out of this team.’ Lexi listened carefully before saying, ‘a tune? Celtic has an orchestra?’ Everyone laughed as did Lexi. His increasing knowledge of Scottish slang terms meant he could sometimes have a joke at their expense. ‘Whit did ye think of yer first Celtic game?’ Rosco said, looking at him. Lexi thought for a moment, ‘it was amazing and I did forget my troubles for a while. It was a…’ he searched for the right words. ‘It was a beautiful distraction.’ Rosco agreed, ‘aye, I never thought of Tania in fifth year once.’ Dominic cut in, ‘liar, ye had a Paddy Bonner for most of the first hauf.’ Lexi looked confused. He had much yet to learn about Scottish slang.