He took a step in their direction. The Dove’s huge paw lay on Tanya’s shoulder. Before he could even think, Venya had already thrown that paw off her skinny shoulder, and a minute later the two were locked in a cruel and silent fight.
The Dove fought desperately but was physically weaker than Volkov, and less agile and evasive. Rather quickly, Venya had laid the crook out flat on his back.
Now he and Tanya Kostylyova were “steadies,” which at their school consisted of strolling through the streets, going to the one ice cream parlor in town, sitting in the last row of the movie house, and making out, though never daring to go over the limit, which was defined quite specifically as doing anything below the waist.
Venya understood that the “fast girls” that his classmates drooled over in the vacant lot behind the school with their port and cigarettes were nothing but the fantasies of sick young minds. When some pimply lady-killer reported on his latest conquest in a mysterious whisper, Venya could barely restrain a contemptuous laugh.
Actually, he thought about the enthusiastic storyteller, you’re as innocent as a newborn lamb. First of all, you don’t have anywhere you can do that. You live in a communal apartment with plywood walls. There are five of you there in one room, and your nasty grandmother is always home. Secondly, your face is covered in pimples, and you’ve got bad breath. And thirdly, you’re telling it all wrong. I would know.
After his story with plump Larochka, Venya thought he knew everything.
Although he didn’t live in a communal apartment or have a nasty old grandmother, he and Tanya Kostylyova had lots of problems. She had no desire to go home with him and didn’t invite him over, either.
“You see, Venya,” she would say, “I like you a lot. But there’s a time for everything. First we need to get to know each other properly. Better we just go for walks and talks for now. And what if your mama comes home from work unexpectedly? Don’t be mad, but I’m a little afraid of her. She’s so strict, so proper.”
Winter wasn’t a great time for walks through a Siberian town, though. Sometimes they warmed up at the movies, sometimes in entryways. Every time he was alone with her, Venya greedily sunk his mouth into her soft, salty lips and tried to get his hot hands—hot even in bitter cold—under her rabbit-fur coat and thick knitted sweater. She resisted, but only for show.
“Stop it, Venya. Come on, stop,” she would say, pressing her entire body to him and raising her lips for a kiss.
Sometimes he hated it. She was lying, pretending she didn’t want to be touched. She purposely aroused him, tortured him, made him gasp and pant. He started hating her in those moments, and he wanted to hurt her, so she would kick and squirm in his hands, the way pudgy Larochka had. He often dreamed of falling on Tanya, pressing her to the ground, and ripping her clothes.
Sometimes he was horrified even in his sleep. He was burning inside from a hard, animal hunger. He felt that if he didn’t satisfy it, if he didn’t hurt Tanya Kostylyova, hurt her badly, he’d burn up inside, and he’d die.
Everyone around them thought it was love between him and Tanya. So did she. Only Venya knew that in fact he hated his girlfriend.
He was waiting for spring and warm days when they could go for walks in the evenings in the park above the Tobol River. The more trusting and tender Tanya was with him, the more powerfully he hated her. If someone had asked him why, he wouldn’t have been able to say. And he had no intention of answering this sensible question for himself. His hunger was more important than the answers to any questions.
He was waiting like an animal before it leaps, patiently enduring Tanya’s blind acceptance of social ritual and her belief in the stupid fairy tales about true love and till death do us part. Intuitively, he was afraid of spooking this silly, romantic girl.
“Venya, do you love me?” she would ask in a whisper.
“Yes, Tanya, I love you very much,” he would say with a sigh in her pink little ear.
“Venya, you’re the best, the strongest, and I love you so much.” Her blond head buried itself in his shoulder, and her hand gently squeezed his hot fingers.
Spring came late to Tobolsk, but was always stormy and swift. The ice broke on the Tobol and the Irtysh majestically. On clear days, sunlight fractured the large, slow-moving ice floes, which splintered in the heavy, dark water, and sometimes a vivid rainbow would shimmer at the cracks.
Then came the high waters. The two Siberian rivers, which flowed together in the old town, would leave their banks and, together with the first real May rains, wash away the last remnants of snow. But in the taiga, there could be snow in low-lying areas as late as June.
Right up until their graduation night in late June, Tanya Kostylyova continued to play games with Venya. She refused to go for long walks with him to the park above the Tobol.
“You’re so worked up, Venya,” she would say, lowering her bright blue eyes. “We won’t be able to stop ourselves. And what if I get pregnant? It’s too soon for that. We’re still children. We have to continue our studies.”
There was a lot of vodka at the graduation party. Hiding from their vigilant teachers, the students took turns drinking, shutting themselves up in the chemistry office. The girls drank less, sipped at the glass as it went around the circle, made a face, and quickly took a bite of black bread.
“Is that any way to drink?” Volkov laughed, giving Tanya back the full glass she’d barely even touched. “Take a normal swallow. Graduation only happens once. Come on, drink to my health. You’re not a little girl anymore.”
Tanya gave in. She’d never drunk vodka before. She was happy, her exams were behind her, and she’d aced them all. It was a time to celebrate, so she should have a drink.
She screwed up her face and knocked back half the glass. Her throat was squeezed by a stinging spasm. The vodka wouldn’t go any farther. Tanya started coughing. Venya stuck a piece of bread and pickle in her mouth. Chewing helped right away.
“Well, did that go down well?” Venya smiled, took the glass out of her hands, and finished the remaining half.
They danced a little more in the auditorium and then quietly ran off to the park. The night was warm and clear. In the mysterious summer silence, the mosquitoes were buzzing, and the old cedars’ thick trunks creaking. Using Venya’s arm for support, Tanya took off her fancy patent leather shoes and walked barefoot through the nighttime dew.
They kept walking farther along the banks of the Tobol under a full moon. A wide, layered column of moonlight swayed gently on the calm river water. There wasn’t a soul around.
“Venya, I’m really drunk,” Tanya said gaily. “My head’s spinning. Why did you make me drink that horrible vodka? I’m never going to drink again.”
“How about a swim?” he suggested. “You’ll sober up in a flash.”
“But I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“What do you need a bathing suit for? It’s a high—skinny-dipping.”
She laughed. “But the water’s cold.”
He pulled her close and started feeling around for the zipper on her graduation dress.
“Have you lost your mind? Let me go!” She tried to slip out of his arms.
The zipper jammed; a lock of her hair from her long braid got stuck in it. He pulled as hard as he could.
“That hurts! Venya, what are you doing?” Tanya did manage to break away, but only for a second.
He immediately put his arms around her and threw her down onto the wet grass.
“Venya, Venya dear, stop…”
Quickly and deftly he pulled off her dress and just as he did with Larochka, he put his hand over her mouth and nose. She started moaning and jerked her head. He felt the warm breath from her nostrils under his hand.