Евгений Водолазкин - Solovyov and Larionov

The general also reopened two stores abandoned by their owners: a shoe store and a sweet shop. All told, ten people were dispatched to staff them. Thanks to the breakdown of shoe and sweets production, there was nothing to sell in those stores. Strictly speaking, there was nothing to sell them for, either, since money was swiftly becoming simply paper. In a brief parting address, the general emphasized that the absence of wares was a temporary phenomenon since both sweets and shoes were in demand under any regime. He did not know if there would be money under the new regime. In honor of opening the sweet shop, they gave the general a lollipop that appeared, upon close examination, to be in the shape of a rooster. It was the only ware they discovered in the store. The rooster smelled of burnt sugar and had no color. When the general went outside, he gave it to a newspaper delivery boy.

A barbershop opened up after noon. In giving brief instructions to the future barbers, the general announced to them that under no circumstances should they stop making cutting motions, even when they were lifting the scissors over the client’s hair. According to the general’s observations, it was customary among genuine barbers to cut air, too. He sharpened a razor on a leather strop and neatly wiped the blade on a towel while shaving one of the trainees. In so doing, he showed several characteristic gestures he had noticed as a child—barbering mastery is judged based upon their accuracy. He cautioned against approximating a barber’s actions, saying that every little bit counts in this field. He advised taking a cigarette out of an ashtray with the ring and little fingers because only those fingers remain free of lather. The top of the head should be scratched, if necessary, with those same fingers. He recommended discussing city news during haircuts and shaving, because that is the usual practice in barbershops. He depended on their intuition for everything else.

The general lodged soldiers Shulgin and Nesterenko in a vacant two-apartment house. He was concerned the soldiers’ bachelor life might provoke inquiry into their past and ordered that two women who agreed to simulate marriage be brought to them. On top of all that, the general vaguely recalled that two families truly had lived in a house like this. The families were friends for many years. It was already impossible to decide if it was this house or not because the general remembered nothing but the front stoop.

He and his father had walked up a stoop like this to go into a house at one time. Two men were playing chess in the living room. They represented families on friendly terms. One of them held a knight (the future general could never have mistaken that figure for anything else) in his hands, touching it to his lower lip from time to time. The knight’s ears rode fully into the chess player’s puffy lip. The other man repeated some phrase, in a reverie. He had uttered the phrase many times but the general could not remember it, try as he might. Had they played here?

The general warned the reestablished families (he was certain of the resemblance between the present and past families) about the emphatic need to be friends. It was noted in the margin across from this statement that friendship did occur, as was to be expected, and eventually both couples had children as a result of simulating marriage. Boys: Shulgin junior and Nesterenko junior.

The general gathered both families in the living room of one of the apartments and proposed that the men play chess. He sat Shulgin and Nesterenko on chairs opposite one another. A chessboard was placed on a stool between them. Shulgin crossed his arms on his chest and Nesterenko was requested to press his hands into his knees. This lent a naturalness to the game that had begun. They played briskly but were not in much of a hurry. Sometimes the women would appear behind the players’ backs and cast contented gazes at the board, not understanding anything. The general advised the women to wipe their hands on their aprons during those moments. Or wrap themselves in a shawl, as if chilled. Crockery clinked ever so slightly in the sideboard when the women trod on the plank floors. The general delighted in the coziness that had come about.

‘Someone should say,’ he requested of the players, ‘“We’re bringing in the minor pieces.” That’s what they say in similar situations.’

‘Is that obligatory?’ Shulgin was curious.

The general thought and answered, ‘No, it’s not obligatory. You can just press the knight to your lower lip and say something of your own. The main thing is to utter it pensively. Several times.’

Then they left for the church, where the general seated paupers in the necessary order. One of them very much resembled Maxim Gorky, which was a definite plus in this particular situation. The similarity was so great that this person later even posed for Yalta’s monument to the proletarian writer. Another pauper, who did not resemble Gorky, was ordered to simulate not having a leg. Only this, in the general’s opinion, could ensure him certain immunity when the Red Armymen appeared.

The general instructed five musicians by the fence at the Tsar’s Garden. One of them could not play any instrument at all but had, so it seemed to the general, a good ear. His task during performances of musical compositions was to listen carefully, conveying the essence of the performance through facial expressions when possible. This musician had long gray bangs that he should toss from his eyes with a sharp head motion. He was also given a violin and asked to draw the bow near the strings. But not to touch them.

Toward the end of the day, the general ordered that a cabinet be taken out of his house. A big oak cabinet with a two-headed eagle. The general ordered a cart be brought and he positioned loaders to look after it. The loaders had just returned from Perekop and did not quite imagine how they ought to handle such a heavy item. Furthermore, they still did not understand where or why it should be moved. Recalling a famous social-democratic slogan, the general announced to them that the ultimate aim is nothing, but movement is everything. The cabinet’s aimless motion did not contradict the new ideology, making this pursuit relatively safe. As he was walking away, the general advised the loaders not to be shy about using coarse language; when in contact with the Reds this could create an atmosphere of similarity in social class.

Only late in the evening, when the entire detachment had jobs, did the general and Captain Kologrivov approach the pharmacy. The general leaned wearily against an electric streetlamp (in previous times it had used gas) by the entrance. He rummaged around in his pockets, fetched the keys, and began searching for the lock in the dying yellowy light. A minute later the door opened and a little bell jingled. The general enjoyed feeling the edges of the beveled glass on the door. The prisms reflected the evening’s last lights. They reflected the soundness of a previous life. As it happened, in those November days, it had already been three years since that kind of glass had been made.

The general and Kologrivov entered the pharmacy and looked around. Unlike many abandoned places, the pharmacy had not been ransacked. Everything remained in place there. The general took Kologrivov by the shoulders and sat him down in a chair.

‘The main thing is inner calm. Speak in a soft voice. The scrape of a little oak door, the smell of mint drops: nothing more is required here. That is the only way you will be able to exist organically in a pharmacy.’

‘I’m calm,’ said Kologrivov. ‘And I speak in a soft voice.’

The general uncorked one of the little vials and stirred its contents with a glass pestle.

‘I placed observers on the Alushtinsk road. They’ll shoot a blank from a cannon when they sight the Reds. That will be the signal to start a new life. I won’t be able to give further instruction because I’ll be busy with my own matters. That, basically, is everything.’