Натиг Расулзаде: Suicide notes

This boss man was a hard nut and regardless of his not – so – young age was skilfully dodging my hits, and often hit me badly trying to get me in the head or in the guts. I knocked out the knife from his hands in the beginning of the fight, so now we were sort of equal. I fought him mostly with my head and feet keeping my hand in reserve and when he was forgetting that I still have it, though only one, but still a hand, I suddenly used it and sometimes used it quite well. But I couldn’t manage to topple him, knock him off his feet, or if I did, he would immediately get up again. However, he couldn’t knock me down either, and having caught our breath we flew at each other again, already both heavily beaten up, tired, faces in blood and bruised. We huffed and puffed almost till dawn. None of the inmates in the barrack hut got themselves involved in our brawl, some of them even went to sleep, especially those on the upper bunks because we didn’t make much noise. By morning we both could hardly breathe, approached each other clinging to the walls and I managed to pull myself together and gave his horse face such a head butt that he flew a few steps away falling on the floor where he lay unconscious. To be honest I was close to losing consciousness myself. For some time now his guys’d got back from the hibernation in which I had put them but here – I was told later – someone interfered and they were kept away from me, it was decided: let them settle it between themselves one to one – that’s about us. Even this fight that lasted a few hours didn’t soothe my anger for the insult, for all unanswered insults to me, didn’t reduce, and could never reduce all the anger built up in me. I dragged the boss man to the close – stool – his mates appeared, but I’d already taken his knife and sprang at them ready to cut open any one of them. They probably noticed something in the expression on my face and decided to stay away and not get involved. So I dragged him to the close – stool, stood over him hardly breathing, and pissed on his disfigured horse face. He didn’t even come to. And I went or rather almost crawled to my bunk, fell on it and don’t remember anything after that. Of course, the administration found out about everything, they didn’t even have to ask questions, our faces clearly said everything; I was given thirty days in the isolation ward as a punishment. But when I got back to the barrack hut – it was like home sweet home, honestly, it looked so warm and cosy to me after the isolation ward – so, when I got back, I was the boss man here now. And though they nicknamed me “one – arm”, which was actually quite natural; everyone pronounced these words with respect. I though, didn’t want to be a boss here at all. It was not that I had been trying to achieve in the fight with the boss man, I only wanted to be left alone, complete my sentence and get out of here. And I kind of achieved it. The boss man after his disgrace tried to kill himself in the isolation ward, but it didn’t work out. I don’t know, he couldn’t find a tool for it or what, I don’t care, really. Don’t disgrace others and you won’t be disgraced, that’s what I know. Afterwards my time in the camp was passing without any incidents, not taking into account some minor events, and considering how you can survive in a place like this without any incidents at all. Everything happened. I had to get involved in many things since they acknowledged me as the authority, obtain justice, which, it has to be said, is here understood differently than outside. Justice under the local rules, the inmate rules, so all my involvement in these affairs had limits, because just as outside you may break the law, so here, whatever authority you may have, you’re not allowed to go against the rules. If you do, you’ll lose your authority right away and straight into the gutter. Prison has its own laws and you can’t step over them, I experienced it myself when once I wanted to stop the rape by criminals of a newcomer who had been sentenced for the same crime. You can see that this is a bitch; – they told me in the barrack hut and that turned out true. The boy was really low and cunning, and later began to tip off the camp administration. Then I understood that this is exactly the incident when you shouldn’t interfere – they would do as they wanted anyway and I would look a blockhead and dupe. I did right also because the guy turned out to be a confirmed bugger anyway and I had simply risked putting myself in a funny position. One time, Bespredelshiks (criminals who didn’t abide by any rules – neither civil or their own criminal ones) went against me, but when they got convinced that I was more desperate than them and didn’t care about their rule of lawlessness and Bespredel, they backed down and after the initial conflict we didn’t make life difficult for one another. I had come to understand a lot in prison, swear to God, the main thing I understood was that prison didn’t correct any criminal, on the contrary, it even more embitters and what’s most terrible about it, very often it turns accidentally imprisoned people into desperate criminals – and accidentals were plenty here. In our barrack hut we had one teacher who was sentenced for possession of some prohibited manuscripts. They were considered undermining the fundamentals; he didn’t think so and even sent them out to some newspapers. He told me that himself. There was also one professor, a chemist, who ran down a drunk with his car. There was a school principal too, but this one deserved his time, he got sentenced for bribery, was selling fake school leaving certificates with honours at five hundred each. They caught him with direct evidence – five hundreds nicely recorded by the police. I felt pity for them – intelligentsia – they were all kind of unprotected and vulnerable, soft. I protected them as much as I could. What else?.. I could remember a lot about imprisonment but don’t feel like it, that’s not the point, cause I got here of my own will, it’s not easy here, of course, but worst of all here for the innocents. I can imagine what they must be feeling, what they have to go through. One can lose all faith in justice in this world. Well… I got out earlier than expected – got out under amnesty of November holidays of Eighty Four. He calculated even this – that bastard Nagiyev. And so I was out into freedom. After the camp it was an amazing feeling to be out again, I can’t express it! It seemed to me that all the bad things in my life were left behind and a life full of happiness and joy awaited me ahead. Really, hadn’t I had enough trouble in my life? But one thing probably slipped out of my attention – happiness and joy must be made with your own hands, in my case one hand…I was glad of course to be going home, waiting to see mom, I missed her a lot. Though we wrote to each other, I worried about her enough, thought many thoughts about her. I felt sorry for her, could even cry, she had been through so much because of me. Waited for me when I was at war, terrified with fear every day, waited for me when I was in prison, grew old before her time, cried her eyes out, poor mom. So there in the camp I gave a word to myself that if I get out, or rather when I get out I would do everything to enable my mother lead a normal, decent life. So that she is in no need of anything, she had lived in poverty enough; I swore on my freedom that I would do it, otherwise what kind of a son I am? As I travelled I looked from the train window at the fields, empty steppes, and small forests and if I spotted a picturesque place, I would start imagining how it would be to build a little house here and live with my mom away from everyone. Is it bad to live here with no trouble unlike in the city swamped with people trying to humiliate and insult you, spit into your soul, get you in trouble, where on every step you have to watch yourself in order not to smash the face that insulted your human dignity? When mom saw me she nearly passed out from happiness, even though I had written to her that I was coming back. I picked her up and sat her on the sofa, gave her a few drops of Valocordin. She came to a little and started crying. “Come on, mom, – I said – everything is alright now, calm down dear…” She, of course, looked years older, her illnesses got to her, eyesight worsened, and my story also hadn’t made her happier. Obviously, she had been at the court, wrote complaints to all the authorities where she only could, even to the Prosecutor General of the country. Wrote that her son had been slandered, made to take blame for a murder he didn’t commit, he couldn’t commit even accidentally. Asked in her letters to look into it more scrupulously (so the investigator was more scrupulous in beating the truth out of me, well it’s in the past now), wore herself out while I was doing time. But I’m out now, I said to her, I’m with you and everything is alright, mom, now everything is going to be alright, all bad things are behind us. Then, when all main things were said, all talks talked, she asked me about that money. I said, I can tell you one thing, that money isn’t stolen, it belongs to me, which means it belongs to you too, I had written this in my note to you. “I know, – she said, – I believed it right away when I read your note, I know you wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t steal, but where did you get that much?” “Don’t ask, I had told you it’s not stolen, and that’s what matters, isn’t it?” “I’m afraid, – she said, – that you would get into some bad company, would trip over, we don’t need big money, – she said, – and what would we do with it?” Here I, knowing mom’s character, naïve and simple, became alert but didn’t show it by anything, said nothing and waited – she will say all herself. Soon she admitted that she had given ten thousand to Akram. “Why? – I asked.” She began getting noticeably nervous, started to convince me as if I was arguing with her and wasn’t agreeing, but I just asked out of curiosity, she got so nervous that I regretted asking her about it. It turned out that Akram had urgently to buy a flat, it wasn’t even a flat, a little house in the suburbs with its own piece of land and even a garden, because in the old flat where they had lived it was terribly damp and both children already suffered from rheumatism. What can you say against it; of course your own brother took money for such necessary, even life saving business – when it comes to children’s health what can be more important. “That’s right, – I said, – everything is right mom. It’s just I can’t understand why he remembered about you only when you had money?” “Not at all, – said mom.” She got scared when she heard my words. I think she had expected that I would say something like this and possibly thought it over herself. “Not at all, – repeated mother, again getting very agitated, – he simply wrote to me a letter. How would he know that you left me money? How could he know what was going on here?” “Because, – I said, beginning to get angry, – I had sent him a letter from prison asking him not to leave you alone while I was there, so he didn’t.” “I don’t need much, – said mom, – I only regret that I gave him the money without your permission, because it’s yours. I wanted to write to you, ask you about it, and then received your letter saying that you’re coming back. It’s just recently I gave him that money, a month or so ago. I thought, thank God Rustam is coming back we’ll manage somehow, and how could I refuse my own son if the matter was so serious? And he didn’t actually ask me for anything. Just wrote me a long letter asking how I was doing and also told me about his life and the problems that he had. Could it be that he had a moment when he wanted to share all his trouble with his mother, to talk to me?” “Of course it could be, – I said.” “So, – mom obviously felt better, – he wrote and also added that there was a house for sale for ten thousand, in the suburbs, air is great there, it will be good for the children because they were ill, he didn’t know what to do. And I replied that I could give him that money but it wasn’t mine, and I had to ask your permission, and it would be better if he came for the money himself cause I didn’t want to send it by post – what if they asked me where I got it from, what would I say? So he came with one of his sons – with pride, clarified mom, as if they brought her grandchild to show her, she had to deserve it and so she’s proud that she did, – they stayed two days, he’s lost weight, poor boy, it’s hard for him, – mom sighed, and continued, – he got all grey – haired, I didn’t notice before, his head is all grey… So, they stayed a while and left. He said he would return the money, said to you not to worry. And also said he would’ve never taken it from me if it wasn’t so necessary, kids are ill, they have to move from the old flat by any means, can’t stay in such damp, illness gets worse. You see Rustam the reason is serious. We can do without this money, Rustam, right?” “Sure, – I said, – forget about it mom, you’re speaking as if making excuses. That was your money, I wrote to you, you were free to spend it as you liked. You better tell me about yourself, how you lived all this time?” “How could I live, – she said, – missed you a lot, was worried, twice been to hospital while you were away, thanks to the neighbours, they helped me a lot, I don’t know what I would do without them, they would go to the bazaar, pharmacy to the shop, or call an ambulance, my feet hurt me much now, swell and swell, they start to hurt in the evening… Well, I won’t be scaring you with my old age illnesses… Yes! I almost forgot, I still have four hundred rubles left! Oh, mom, – I said, – what is four hundred rubles nowadays? For some it’s pocket money which they can spend in a minute. And the same minute I regretted saying it, didn’t think, honestly, said it without thinking, automatically, and mom I see got upset, probably took it on herself. I said a silly thing, – I said, – hugging her shoulders, – forget it, mom. You should keep away from this kind of people son – she said. From what kind of people? – I asked. From the ones who can spend four hundred in a minute, – she said, – they won’t do you any good. Don’t you worry about me, mom, – I said, – I’m now experienced, wise and very careful… At night when I was going to bed, she asked me: Did you get very upset because I gave your ten thousand to Akram? No, – I said, – I’ve already forgotten, – I really did forget, because Nagiyev still owed me a little money as we had agreed, not much, but now for me it was a good sum. This thought about the debt calmed me down a bit and I really began to forget the money mom gave to Akram, what’s the difference if I get the money from Nagiyev soon enough anyway? Don’t be upset, sonny, – said mom, – he’s your brother; you have to help each other, support, when one of you is in trouble. Yes, – I said, – you’re right, mom. But he will definitely pay it back, – mom said, – he promised, said he would return it by instalments. If not this, I would keep it for you, I don’t need much, and I never spend more than a five a day. Don’t think about it, mom, – I said – you did what you thought was right, no need to explain anything. She kept quiet for a while and then said, – I’m explaining it, son, because people like you and me earn our money the hard way, we have to value it, especially if it’s earned in an honest way… Of course, this money is earned honestly, – I said – don’t you doubt it. I don’t, son, – she said, – I always trusted you and Akram, and I wish you supported each other like true brothers, which you are, don’t forget about it. Well, good night, Rustam. Goodnight, mom. She left the room. Support each other. Yes, I think, he supported me during hard times, right. Big brother, yeah… On the other hand what could he do? I also remembered mom’s excuses and all that talk about the money in such detail because I, to be honest, felt a bit bitter, if she had spent it on herself it’s different, but here – what was I doing the time for? But then, there are kids getting ill all the time because they need a new house – also understandable. I remembered how during the course of the conversation mom was trying to create a good impression of Akram, prove me that he’s a good person and we have to get close to him. Basically she wanted to patch up our relationship. But how can you get close to him after years that we hadn’t heard a word from him. We were complete strangers to each other. Also the difference in age, or at least if we were friendly in our childhood, but from my childhood I only remember with regard to Akram that he would shout at me, telling what to do or give me slaps on the back of my head. With these thoughts I fell asleep, and finally for many days or rather nights I slept without nightmares. The next day I went to Nagiyev’s. He greeted me very well, it seemed to me he was glad that I was out, treated me with expensive cognac and cigarettes, but was unusually quiet and not talkative, you could feel that it was not the same Nagiyev – black marketer, though big but still a profiteer, no. Now it was almost completely a different person, he spoke quietly; carefully choosing words, he did not giggle and smiled little. He had a look as if he watched and didn’t see you, and at the same time frantically analyzing how he would use you, what else he can squeeze out of you. He asked me in detail how I did time, whether I made any unnecessary acquaintances, if I cut all the ends in prison, will there be any prison mates come looking for me, he asked like a proper investigator. Yes, Nagiyev changed a lot, I noticed it straight away, he even changed the flat’s interior – it still was decorated rich, maybe richer than before, but without that screaming impudence, expensive cheap things, huge photographs of sexual intercourse on the walls in the bedroom. All these changes indicated the fact (I only felt it) that Nagiyev now flew much higher, probably to more risky, dangerous heights. I of course didn’t know, and didn’t'’ want to know, what he was doing, I came on my own business, and when he, at my insignificant question, again went quiet for some time pouting his lips, angry with me asking questions here,I got fed up with all this and not very politely dropped that he didn’t have to answer and I was only here because he still owed me something. So let him count and pay it back to me so that I could leave and no longer disturb him. Yes, – he said, – I haven’t forgotten about the debt, that’s a debt of honour and I will give it back to you, don’t you worry. I’m not worried, – I replied, – why should I worry? Let worry the one who has to pay it back. I’m only happy now, because I will now be back in the black with what I earned with my blood and sweat doing time in prison. But my biting remark wasn’t appreciated by him and hung in the air between us. He thought and then spoke again. Listen, – he said, – you’re a reliable guy, already time – tested, and that’s why I’m telling you this. You can be useful to me, you will get your money, don’t worry about it. Think about your future. You can make good money working for me now, but if you prefer the work and miserable pay of a night watchman, it’s up to you. What do I have to do? – I asked. We’ll see, – replied Nagiyev. I have to know for sure, – I insisted, and it sounded somehow daring, I didn’t intend it to sound like this. He watched me intently. You speak to me in a wrong tone, – he said eventually, – don’t forget I give you a job, not you. Apart from that you have to remember that we are closely tied up with you now. He was using such round and correct phrases as if making a speech. This also was different in Nagiyev now. Before he wasn’t very selective in expressions and sometimes when he got angry his speech was just swearing and nothing else. But I got carried away by form and forgot about the content of his words. It was quite interesting. He obviously was aiming somewhere and soon said it straight. Think yourself, how will you prove now that you didn’t kill that Oddesit, ah? So I would advise you to know your place. And keep quiet… he said this just in time because I was already beginning to understand the meaning of his words about Oddessit, when he practically called me a murderer. I sprang at him to grab him by his throat, but my hand froze halfway to his throat cause an ugly thought crawled into my head – really how would I prove now that it wasn’t me who killed that Oddessit. I had admitted it and insisted on it, damn! This stigma of a murderer will be with me forever now. Only now this ugly thought dawned on me in it disgusting nakedness, burning my consciousness. Though I had enough time to think it over, only now when someone else reminded me about it, and clearly and unequivocally called me a murderer, I was almost stunned. Have a drink, – said Nagiyev pouring “Napoleon” in my glass, – and have a good think, if you can’t wait to get to your building site booth – fine, it’s up to you. Considering that here it takes ten – fifteen years to build a block, you will be needed there for a long time. I won’t be holding you, but I would advise you to realize what you can lose. I wanted to get into an institute, – I mumbled in reply. In institute, – calmly, without a sound of sarcasm, said Nagiyev, – well, good idea. Even if you manage by some miracle using the penny that I owe you get into institute and graduate in five years time, you will be getting your hundred and forty a month which will be enough to go to the market a couple of times. My congratulations! With me you’ll have that in a day or two, understand? In three days you will earn more than your certificated engineer gets in a month. But if you like, well, go and kiss your diploma, it will give you the opportunity to eat bread with boiled potatoes every day. He went quiet. I glanced at his full glass. Why are you not drinking, – I asked without much curiosity, just to break the silence that came after his words. He just waved his hand, – I have heartburn from cognac, – he said, – can’t sleep all night after it. But I drink anyway… What would I have to do? – I asked after a little pause. Mainly to travel on business, – Nagiyev answered boringly. And that’s all? – I asked, suspecting that he’s not telling me the whole truth. Carrying small packages, – he said. I thought. That suits me, – I said. Course it does, – he said, – take small packages here and there and get two – three hundred for each trip. Not a bad life, uh? Alright, – I said, – when do you need me? Day after tomorrow give me a call, – he wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to me, – my number has changed. I wanted to put it in my pocket, but he said, – no, memorize it. That’s why I wrote it – it’s easier to remember, look at it and remember. Just like some spy, – I said. Got it? – he said, – now give it back. He crushed the paper and threw it in the ashtray. Actually, I agreed to Nagiyev’s proposal quite reluctantly. I thought I’d begin working for him, stash away some money, get my debt and sneak away from him. I had no choice, had to sort out my life and settle down, but for that I had to find some proper job. I went to a few places between Nagiyev’s business trips, tried to find a job, and looked up classifieds. If I found something appropriate for a one armed worker, I would go there for an interview. But as soon as they’d found out that I had a prison sentence, it was over. They wouldn’t even consider hiring an ex – inmate. So I had to get a job as a stoker in a multi-storey building boiler house. The wages were enough only not to die of hunger, so I had to be sly, because our district police officer kept pestering me about finding a job. Though he knew that I’m a war veteran and getting a pension, he probably decided to play safe and started his own initiative. He must have thought if I kept wandering about with nothing to do, I’m bound to mess up. So under his pressure I got that job at the boiler house. But since it was interfering with my business trips, I had to resort to cunning. I left the boiler house and got myself a job at a building site, making a deal with the foreman so that he registered me as a “dead soul” and would take my wages, and I would just drop by the site from time to time, just in case… So we registered all paperwork properly, I reported to the district police officer that I got a job at a building site where they needed one – handed workers – he stared at me unable to understand my joke – and this problem was settled. As to studying, to be honest now I had neither desire nor opportunity to study. And what was the point in that studying since I knew that after five years in an institute I wouldn’t become a minister or a big boss. It’s no use to me and as Nagiyev said waste five years to get the miserable salary of an engineer or a school teacher in the end, well thanks a lot, not my cup of tea. Well this studying, sod it, didn’t bother me much. I’d rather choose some lucrative profession, learn to become a good specialist in let’s say fridge or TV repairs and maintenance, always a profitable trade. Or say a dental mechanic can make good money, well maybe this is going too far – it’s not for a one – handed person, but the bottom line is I must find something where I could earn a good living. So I decided, to stick around with Nagiyev for a while, make some money, and having saved up a little I’d learn some lucrative trade – become a specialist in it. One thinks sometimes, really, am I bound for the rest of my life to guard bricks on a building site? Isn’t it possible to create normal conditions for the disabled in our city? Provide them with jobs, because the disabled – legless, handless – they’re also citizens like everybody else. I have seen a programme on the TV recently about how in America they organize sports events for disabled kids. Isn’t it humane? Even on TV you could see how happy they were, face shining with joy. Eh, what can you say, one has to learn a lot, and not kick them away from you how they’re used to doing here… One day I was at Nagiyev’s. He gave me a briefcase with a number lock, a first class train ticket, and sent me to Yerevan, also giving me two hundred and fifty rubles for unexpected expenses, though what unexpected expenses could I have? So I asked him about it. We’ll see, said Nagiyev and it seemed to me he got a bit puzzled as if regretting his reply. That should have alerted me that moment and made me think, but I, what a jerk, didn’t pay attention to his words, or rather didn’t see any second meaning in them, words are words. It was early summer and I was enjoying travelling on the train. I was looking out of the window, and even felt a little happy those minutes, so almost forgot my disability. In one of those minutes a girl of approximately my age stepped out from the next compartment and stood by the window in the corridor. She looked beautiful to me, to be honest now with my condition I wasn’t very popular with women, and even before my disability I wasn’t much of a heartthrob… Maybe she looked a beauty to me because lately I had almost lost contact with the fair sex, and any more or less pretty woman aroused me? No, she really was very cute. I was full of youth and forgot about my ugly stump hidden in the tucked shirt sleeve when I audaciously approached her and stood nearby. She absent – mindedly glanced at me. Wind was blowing in the window scattering her hair on her forehead, and I unwillingly looked at her with admiration – yes, she was beautiful indeed – I looked and unexpectedly to myself said to her, – yes, it suits you like this. What? – she asked. Your hair, – I replied, – it looks beautiful like this. How exactly, – she asked, and the look in her eyes wasn’t unfriendly at all. Not like the look in girls’ eyes I got used to recently if I had to speak or ask them something on the street or elsewhere. Like this, – I said, – tousled. Yes? – she laughed, – if so, then I won’t comb it. She laughed again, probably also because of too much young energy in her, and suddenly quickly went back into her compartment and shut the door. Here I became gloomy thinking that my new acquaintance didn’t work out. And of course I remembered about my stump. That’s what scared her, she first spoke to me out of politeness, then noticed it and off she went. Sure, such a beauty, what would she need a cripple like me for? There are plenty of healthy and handsome young men around, all with hands, legs, and other accessories in place, only thinking how to get some pretty girl in their hands. Why would she make acquaintance with a cripple? – I thought, completely upset and making a move towards my compartment when the door behind me where she disappeared a minute ago opened and she, even more beautiful and happy, came out to the corridor with an apple in her hands. Would you like an apple? she asked, showing me a big apple so beautiful that it looked unreal. I think I kept smiling in a silly way looking at her without answering her question, full of joy from her amazing appearance, so she had to repeat it in a more impatient tone. Yes, I’d love one, – I said with a little challenge in my voice, sort of, if you ask just to be polite, here you are now, sort out this situation. But you only have one apple, – I added right away. Then she, with the agility of a magician, split the apple in two halves, cut prior to that and only put together again out of mischievousness. Yes, she was fooling around a little. She also, like me was made drunk by this glorious day, fast ride, and maybe realization of her own charming and entrancing beauty. When she, copying circus magicians, was separating one half from the other, she quietly and it seemed even shyly said “op”. It was so cute that I couldn’t help myself laughing from the joy of her being here with me, took the half she handed me and dug, like her, my teeth into the juicy and tasty pulp of the apple. Through our crunching I managed to put in – Tasty! – so that I didn’t look rude. With her I felt myself very at ease, I’d say unusually at ease. She didn’t seem to notice that I was disabled, or simply didn’t want to notice it, though it was impossible not to see it. But she could leave things unnoticed. Since my adolescence I was shy with girls, though I couldn’t complain about my looks – I was tall and athletic. But after I had my arm amputated and got back from war I began avoiding meeting with girls. Sometimes just slept with Nagiyev’s for a fifty, just to get rid of nocturnal emissions and sexual dreams, that’s all. Normal girls wouldn’t come close to me, and I, certain of a fiasco would also avoid them, what’s the point… And now this charming girl stands next to me by the window in the corridor of a speeding train. I took it as something from out of this world, something unreal. But the apple she gave me was very real, what’s more very tasty. Her smile, sound of her voice, her hair tossed picturesquely, smell of her perfume – all that was more than real. Still I, carefully as if in a dream, as if afraid to scare her off, stretched my hand and touched her shoulder. What is it? – she turned to me with a half smile on her face. Nothing, – I said, – just wanted to make sure that you’re still here. I don’t like being touched, – she said in a very natural, prepossessing voice, without a shade of disgust or arrogance, as if she was saying that she doesn’t like too much sugar in her tea. I’m sorry, – apologized I, – I didn’t mean to. It just happened. You have so many birthmarks! And really, there were tiny, no bigger than freckles, and pale, birthmarks on her white hand. Yes, – she said. You will be happy, – I said. Eh! – she replied, – don’t say banalities. No, – I corrected myself, – I wanted to say don’t forget to share your happiness with me like you shared that apple. Ha, ha! – she laughed, – very funny! I’m falling! Would you like some champagne? – I asked. I’ll think about it, – she said. How long? – I inquired. About ten minutes. Alright, – I said, – think. We quietly looked out of the window and when ten minutes passed I said to her, – your time is up. What will you say to me, the anxious one? Keep being anxious, – she said. How should I understand this? I asked. I agree, – she said, solemnly nodding her head. I bowed to her like a clown – according to the rules of our game – bent my only hand offering it to her. She again very naturally not noticing that the hand was single, leaned on it and we went to the restaurant carriage where I ordered some champagne and chocolates because it turned out that we both had already lunched. I felt myself very free with her and we soon became friends. Her name was Carina – she spoke about herself without waiting for questions, when she felt like it. This also seemed to me very natural for a girl like this; later she admitted to me that she hated questions, it’s like an invasion of your private life. She had been to Baku visiting her relatives. She lives in Yerevan and is in her last year at university. They live with her mom, they don’t have a dad. That’s it, – she finalized the short story about her life, – what is your opinion? Only the very best, – I replied, – very positive and very sincere, amazing, humane, touching, weepy, edifying. Oh, what a wit! – she said, – hold me, I’m falling! I’m ready, – replied I, – you can fall without fear. Don’t be silly, – she said without anger, – it’s just my favourite word, stupid, isn’t it? Not at all. Why? – I asked, – words by themselves can’t be stupid. A word is a word. What do you think? she said. Like what? – I asked. Unexpected, – she said having thought a little, is it good? Or not very? What do you think? At the moment I think that everything you like is good, – I replied, – half an hour ago I didn’t think so. She looked at me without a smile, holding her eyes on my face for a second. Tell me something about yourself, – she asked looking out of the window. I began telling her some things, only in general in order not to scare her with my not so good and bright autobiography. She listened attentively and with empathy, and then we chatted for a long time, steadily and mutually growing more sympathetic towards each other. In the evening we went to our compartments, I lay down and took a magazine I had taken with me from Baku and started thinking about Carina. My briefcase was still under the table just where I had left it. Though Nagiyev had strictly forbidden me under any circumstances to leave it unattended, how could I take it with me to the restaurant? What would Carina think of me? With thoughts about her I fell asleep. I remember when I was almost asleep, was between dream and reality, one thought stung me waking me for a second: how come she got along with me so easily? Doesn’t she see that I’m crippled? But then another thought came: what did we have except some innocent chat between two people travelling together? We talked, had some wine, laughed, it’s nothing and doesn’t mean anything. Everything else is my imagination. I dreamed and in my thoughts I extended and developed our relationship. Otherwise, what is so strange about a girl who has nothing else to do and is bored, talking to a stranger, a one – armed fellow on a train? I think I’m beginning to acquire some complex of one – handedness. Nothing unusual, with the attitude towards you that you see everyday… When we got out of the train in Yerevan I asked Carina permission to walk her home. Though reluctantly, she agreed. Like me she had almost no luggage, only a big plastic bag with a picture of two well – tanned girls on a gorgeous beach. I asked her by the way, if she was coming back from her relatives empty handed? Eh, – she waved me off, – I visit them often. And then what can you bring? What is there so unusual in Baku, which you can’t find in Yerevan? I don’t know, – I honestly admitted, – this is my first visit to your city. We took a taxi and I went to see Carina home, I planned to deliver the parcel to the address that Nagiyev gave me after parting with her. As she was getting out of the car Carina smiled at me and when I asked her for a date, she gave me her phone number. From her place I went straight on my business, gave the address which I memorized at Nagiyev’s to the driver, and very soon our car pulled in by a beautiful house with a tall, antique front door which, it turned out, I had to enter. There was a concierge sitting by the lift. Can I help you? – she asked. I said the name that Nagiyev had told me to remember along with the address. She made a call from the phone on her desk and while waiting for the answer asked me: “How should I introduce you?” “Tell them it’s a guest from Baku”, – I replied as Nagiyev had instructed me. So she spoke into the receiver. I noticed that she was speaking in a very servile way and having put the receiver down tried to smile at me. Her hamster like snout suddenly produced a grimace vaguely resembling a smile. It was as unexpected as if you’d seen a smiling bum which is not accustomed to such things at all. I went up in the lift and rang the door bell. It didn’t open for some time but I felt that behind that door someone was standing and examining me through the peephole. I began picking my nose so that those watching me would have no doubt that me is me. A courier is a courier; I wanted to show, picking my nose, a dirty cheek! The door opened. In the opening stood a man face and limbs completely covered by thick hair and any struggle with this strapping fellow would be suicide. Go on! – curtly ordered that King Kong without giving me his hand and calmly looking at me. As I had been instructed in Baku, I took out of my pocket and handed him a torn half of a ten ruble note I had received from Nagiyev. He grabbed the half – note and soundlessly shut the door in my face. He went to match it, I thought, putting together two halves, like in some spy movie, phah! Here I remembered the two halves of the apple that so suddenly fell apart in Carina’s hands and my heart pounded with joy at the thought that I had her phone number. The door opened again swiftly with no sound, startling me out of my dreams. This big fellow must do everything without a sound; he would strangle you in a second, lovingly and quietly without a squeak, better stay away from him. Merchandise, – he said barely audibly, moving only his lips and this time he stretched his hairy hand to my briefcase. I gave him the briefcase. He again disappeared behind that quietly closed door. This time I had to wait longer, but eventually the door opened for the third time. He gave me a small metal box, which had a padlock and was definitely locked. The smart box fitted exactly in the back pocket of my trousers. I remembered how in Baku, with Nagiyev just before my departure, we were trying out in my pocket some thingy very similar to this box. King Kong carefully watched as I put the box in my pocket and only when he was sure that I completed this operation successfully, handed me a train ticket. Go back; – not very politely said King Kong, without changing that vicious expression on his face with which he opened the door first time. Immediately, – he added with a tone not taking any objections. I of course had an immediate itching to tell him to sod off, but I couldn’t in any case spoil the game – Nagiyev strictly warned me about it knowing my quick – tempered nature. Otherwise I would give this strapping fellow a good hiding, I swear. I put the ticket in the pocket of my shirt trying with all my behaviour to show him that I didn’t give a damn about him but he didn’t really bother with me anymore. So I left the house and was going to phone Carina. I realized that it was still too early and went to have a little walk around the city. My call now would have surprised her; it had been little more than half an hour since we parted. But then I thought – let her be surprised, what else could I do here other than calling up Carina? I sat in a café for a while feeling how the metal box was digging into my bottom, and asked the waiter to bring me a two – kopeck coin. After having sat there for some time rolling the coin on the table I suddenly began getting very nervous and agitated. Calm down, calm down, I said to myself, what’s the matter? You can get all sorts of damn thoughts in your head, damn it! So I sat at the table rolling and tossing the coin in my hand with such deep and substantial thoughts in my head. No, really, I suddenly got terribly worried and the café was not so cosy anymore causing me feelings of great discomfort. I was right on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Damn it! I got up and left the café. A waiter ran after me and grabbed me by the hand. I pulled my hand out as if his disgusting touch burned it (I remember his hands were wet, he must’ve been washing something and didn’t have time to wipe’em dry) and wanted to kick him in the bollocks but then remembered that I had left without paying for coffee. I paid. Now he was trying to give me the change. Finally I managed to get rid of him and I went along the street. I felt that if she would refuse to see me right now – it’s over. So it seemed to me. No, at that moment I was actually convinced that many very important things in my life such as my future, my whole future, depended on her refusal or agreement. No more, no less. When I dialled her number in the phone booth my hand was shaking. The voice of an elderly female, definitely not hers, replied when I asked for Carina that I had got the wrong number and hung up. I also hung up and stepped out of the old – fashioned phone booth. That’s it, I though, she lied to me. She gave me the wrong number because she didn’t want me to call her. Refusing wouldn’t be polite so she gave me an odd number that came to her mind. But I know where she lives. I can go there. Why would she give me the wrong number, no, no, all her behaviour didn’t tally with such a low and cheap deceit, we almost became friends… Those were my thoughts while I was striding along the street up until the moment when I went to the newsagents to get some change and having acquired another two – kopeck coin rushed to call her again. She picked up the receiver, I recognized her voice at once, but just in case I asked in order to make sure. “Carina, – I said into the receiver, – I need to see you.” “Has anything happened?” she asked, and I to my immense joy spotted some notes of anxiety in her voice. “No, – I said, – nothing in particular yet, but it seems to me that if I don’t see you right now, something will definitely happen”. “Something bad or good?” – she asked. “Something terrible”. “To whom?”. “To me”. “Yes, the matter is of great importance, – she sighed, – I have to think about it. You have nowhere to go?” “No”. “And when are you leaving?” “Today”, – I said. “It’s strange how you travel, – she said, – you by any chance aren’t a spy of some foreign intelligence service?” “I’m that, – I said, – you’re right. I have to see you as soon as possible.” “I have to, I need to, – she mockingly grumbled, – why men are such pigs, don’t you know? – she kept silent and then added, – well, if you’re really leaving today…” “Really”, – I lied, getting into her pause, lied because I already knew: my departure depended on her, on how we got along together. “I wish you knew how tired I am”, – she said. “Where should I meet you?” – I asked. “Let me think, – she said, – one minute”. “One minute has passed”, – I said right away. “It will be better if you come round to my house, – she said, – do you remember the address?” “Do I remember the address? Do I remember the address?! – I exclaimed in an indignant voice. “I am smiling, – she said, – don’t think I didn’t understand. It’s just I’m too tired to laugh”. “Say – I am falling”, – I asked her. “I’m falling”, – she said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes”, – I said. “Are you nearby?” “Doesn’t matter, I’ll take a cab”, “Alright, – she said, – I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes”. She, of course got downstairs not in ten but in twenty seven minutes. I kept glancing at my watch and was getting annoyed a bit. I reminded her that she was late which she could easily have avoided because she only had to come down a flight of stairs, not such a long journey. “Don’t be a bore”, – she said. It seemed that some new game was beginning between us and in this game we behaved as if we had known each other for ages. Well, at least I quite liked this new direction in our relationship. Carina did look a little tired but that didn’t make her less attractive, on the contrary I wanted her so much now so when I asked her where she would like to go, I heard in reply that her mom was away now and it would be better if we went to her place and she would treat me with dinner, so when I heard all this, I got a bit scared. I got scared that if I was left alone with her now I would not be able to control myself and jump at her spoiling everything. Читать дальше