Ludmilla Petrushevskaya - There Once Lived a Girl Who Seduced Her Sister's Husband, and He Hanged Himself

Suddenly the skies brightened. Dasha managed to find a spot in a summer camp for her son. As soon as the boy left, she dashed to the city to announce to her “husband” that for the next twenty-four days they belonged to only each other. (She did this in person because he wouldn’t answer his phone.) She was planning to surprise her beloved in their love nest with a romantic dinner. But upon reaching the front door, she discovered that the key to his apartment was missing from her key ring.

Dasha stared wildly at Alyosha’s windows. His balcony was directly above the first-floor balcony, which was protected by iron bars. She and Alyosha used to wonder why anyone would want to live imprisoned behind those ugly bars. They had decided that potential burglars could climb up them to get to their balcony, which meant they, too, should install bars, and so should the people above them, and so forth. That’s how they would joke, these carefree owners of nothing, who had no property in the city or anywhere near it except for Dasha’s crumbling country shack. The shack, it was true, was in an upscale area. Here we must point out that this Dasha wasn’t exactly broke; we are not talking about a penniless divorcée with a child—not at all. Dasha was making more money in her job than her cuckolded husband or even this Alyosha, her most recent passion. She only appeared to be a charity case; in fact, ground had been broken on the site of her new mansion.

But now this successful Dasha felt she must enter her lover’s house. Who knew when he’d be back? She couldn’t just sit and wait, this impulsive nymph, could she? She scrambled up the bars of the first-floor balcony and hopped up to the second. Alyosha’s balcony door was unlocked.

Dasha stepped into the hall with delicious anticipation. She was going to get a drink of water from the kitchen when something caught her eye: a semi-unpacked suitcase in the bedroom, a purse by the bed, and the bed itself, which looked like the site of a recent sexual conquest—Dasha noticed fresh milky spots on a rumpled towel.

So, Alyosha had just slept with another woman. From the kitchen came sounds of cooking—the slut was obviously making use of Dasha’s new porcelain chopping board—and also of an intimate conversation between the slut and Alyosha. The slut was making herself at home here—and not for the first time, that was clear.

Dasha was hysterical. She stumbled into the kitchen, choking on her snot and tears, appealing to her “husband” for reassurance, the very husband who had just screwed another woman. She screamed at the terrified hag, who held a chopping knife in midair. Looking through her tears, Dasha stretched out her arms toward the blurry figure, the pale, frightened Alyosha, who could be heard muttering something.

Her performance that day was the cry of a betrayed, rebellious soul. Never again did she produce a monologue of such force. She gave one final moan, spun around, and flew out of the apartment. Once outside, she ran blindly through the traffic to the highway, and there she halted to flag down a car with a shaking hand. This was where her impulse let go of her, finally, and she was overtaken by Alyosha, who got into the car with her and rode out to her shack—for good.

It was his wife, he told her. She had arrived without warning.

So the wife had arrived, the phone had been disconnected, and the door to the apartment had been locked with a special safety button to trap burglars inside—only Dasha and Alyosha knew about it. On her way out, Dasha had unlocked this clever button without thinking. The wife, however, couldn’t have known about it; it must have been Alyosha who locked it against Dasha’s arrival. Also, what could have happened to her key? How could it have disappeared from the ring?

In all their life together she didn’t ask her husband these questions, not once.

This, in short, is what happened.

1. A young girl worked as a secretary during the day and took classes at night. She came from a respectable family, although her mother had a certain history:

2. She was the illegitimate child of two mothers and one father. You see,

3. there were two sisters: one was married, the other was just fifteen, and she got pregnant by her brother-in-law, who hanged himself while she gave birth to a daughter she hated.

4. That daughter grew up, got married, and had a baby, a daughter.

5. That daughter was our little secretary/student, Alla. Our Alla began to go out with men as soon as she turned fifteen. Her mother cried and scolded her, but nothing helped, and the mother began to lose her mind. In addition to which she was diagnosed with an illness

6. that promised immobility. She and Alla got along horribly, because

7. Alla was raised by her grandmother (3), who hated her daughter, Alla’s mother, and who at thirty-five took her little granddaughter to live with her in a provincial town where she shared a house with her uncle, a much older man.

8. Who knew what lay behind the cohabitation of a fifty-year-old uncle and his niece, who were the only ones left from a large family after all the wars, arrests, divorces, forced and unforced deaths?

9. Then they were joined by little Alla. The girl lived in fear that her mother, Elena, would eventually take her back, and once had a nightmare in which her mother was an evil witch.

10. But nothing could be done: her mother and father missed her, and soon after this nightmare the girl went back to Moscow, where she entered first grade. Poor Elena: the middle link in this chain, hated on both sides—by her child and by her mother.

11. Then Alla, unmarried, gave birth. Her mother, stooped over, shuffled around, washing diapers, cooking, cleaning. All this she did grudgingly, as there was no money in the house. Elena lived on her invalid’s pension; her husband had died, and Alla wasn’t working, having just given birth to a daughter, Nadya. Elena’s memory of her terrible past—of her illegitimate father’s death in the noose, of her quiet teenage mother—weighed Elena down, and she nagged and nagged poor Alla, who’d huddle by the baby’s crib and try not to cry.

12. Little Nadya had a father, but he lived with Alla only sporadically, considering her used-up material. He had made her pregnant twice, and when it happened the third time, Victor—who saw himself not as a future father but simply as a facilitator of another abortion—put Alla in a cab and directed the driver to the same hospital. He told the driver to wait, walked Alla to the ward, and pecked her on the cheek. This time, though, he left before she changed into the sterile hospital robe, so he didn’t take her street clothes from her.

13. Alla spent the night in the ward, thinking—that she was twenty-five, that Victor had left her, that all her future held were random liaisons with married men. As morning approached, Alla hugged her belly and felt she had a family, that she was no longer alone.

14. She put on her street clothes and left the hospital.

15. Victor never called. Alla was taking her exams; she was a good worker, and her boss had agreed to promote her to engineer before she got her diploma. As for her belly, nobody noticed anything; her colleagues decided that skinny girl had finally blossomed. At the same time, an attractive intern started at the office and assumed Alla’s old secretarial position.

16. Alla did mention to her boss, at a good moment, that she and her mother were in bad shape; that they needed extra money for the mother’s medications.

17. But she never revealed her pregnancy, neither to him nor to Victor, whom she ran into during finals. The rogue took one look at Alla’s swollen breasts and invited her to his place after the exam.