Last Saturday was the tenth anniversary of my friends Pavel and Nadia, and each of them had the same wonderful idea: a surprise party in their apartment. Pavel told Nadia that he had a meeting until nine. Nadia told Pavel that she had a dinner at work until nine. Then each of them quietly invited friends and asked them to hide.
As Nadia's best friend, I was in charge of the cake. At half past eight I let myself in with the spare key, switched off the light as instructed and tiptoed into the living room, where I trod on somebody's hand. There was whispering all around me. People were crouching behind the sofa, under the table, in the bathtub and in the wardrobe, and I realized that I knew almost none of them. I squeezed into the wardrobe next to a man in a party hat. "Are you from Pavel's side?" he whispered. "No, Nadia's," I whispered back. There was a very long silence. "Then," he said, "who is surprising whom?"
We never found out in time. Someone sneezed, a balloon burst, and a key turned in the lock. Pavel and Nadia came in together, the light went on, and thirty people jumped up shouting, "SURPRISE!" The couple stared at the crowd, at the two cakes and, finally, at each other. "You're not in a meeting?" said Nadia. "You're not at a dinner?" said Pavel. Then they began to laugh, and they did not stop for five minutes.
