I lost Vovka stupidly. I flew home to Arzamas one month, and they stayed behind. Goldilocks didn’t go on the next trek, he must’ve still had money, but Vovka did.
And the rivers there can flood like God forbid. So they came to this little stream and it’s rushing full. The instructions always said to stretch a safety line first, but no one ever did that. Long story short, it took us a month to find him. Sent him back in a zinc coffin – you couldn’t see much through its peephole, and there wasn’t much in there to see. There he went and gave his precious life, without drink, clean as a whistle, we wouldn’t drink for months when we were trekking.
After that Goldilocks and I went off – burned through a couple grand in a blink. One day we’re sitting there, thinking what to do. Where we were, they sold wine in three-liter jars, and we only had one left – between the two of us, that was nothing. So we’re sitting by this store and this Gypsy comes riding up on his horse. I point at him, meaning, look Kolka, how far the bastards have spread through the country.
“That,” Kolka says, “is a gift from St. Nicholas. Exactly what we need.”
He waves the Gypsy over and takes the bull by the horns: “How would you like it if I lifted your horse off the ground with one finger? Bet five jars.”
Gypsy doesn’t take long to convince – he’s game, and folks gather round, curious, standing around, waiting for the show.
I’m staring right along with them – I figure Kolka’s bluffing. But that was not his style. He climbed under the nag, whispered some spell to it from underneath, and kept stroking its belly until he found his spot – then when he did, he climbed out, stood by the horse’s side and gave her a poke with his finger, and he had fingers like sixteen-penny nails, I tell you. The horsey, believe it or not, just sort of lifted off, not like rearing up or to kick, but just as it were standing, all four hooves off the ground at once, and all Goldilocks had to do was put his finger under her and lower her gently back.
The Gypsy zipped into the store without a word. Next thing you know he’s got five jars and puts them down on the grass in front of Kolka.
“Show me the spot – I’ll buy you ten more.”
“Nah,” Goldilocks says. “Give me a hundred rubles for a round count – I’ll show you.”
The Gypsy’s game – he’s already thinking how he’ll strip his whole tribe naked. They must’ve been under that horse for half an hour, crawling on their knees and poking the poor thing all around the belly – but the Gypsy couldn’t get it to work and with Kolka she just hung in the air, every time. So the horseman had to ride off empty-handed. He looked glum, that’s for sure, but what can you do – he lost the bet fair and square.
Of course, folks all flocked to us, one thing led to another, and our five jars evaporated like they were never there. So we dragged ourselves to the local restaurant – and in this god-forsaken Ust-Tareya there was only one. It was always either our plantation crew there or the local officers – they had a construction garrison quartered there. So we sat quietly in the corner and kept to ourselves, but the soldiers were having a grand ol’ time. Suddenly one of them whips out his gun and –bang! bang! – starts blasting into the air. It was later that we figured we didn’t hear bullets whistling, so it was a signaling gun, and at the moment – howls, screams, women in hysterics, plates flying off the tables like rainbows – and we went to set things right. While we were busy stomping down that poor lieutenant and tying him up with tablecloths, the waitresses called the station and got us a ride. They packed us in all like rabbits, together with the tied-up sharpshooter, and then at the jailhouse they put him in one cell – and everyone else into the other. There were four of us, and we kept seeing more and more of them filing into our room. Well, I think to myself, they’re gonna get you straightened out, Vovochka, put your affairs in order. I was all shaped up to take it like a man, when my Karelian, the shorty, pops up from under my elbow, comes up to their Captain, and says:
“Listen, mate, I wanna’ show you something before we get started. Anyone got a five kopek piece?”
They found one for him – he bit it with his teeth, grabbed it with his fingers and – twist, twist! – twisted it into a corkscrew. Gave it back to the Captain as a souvenir and said, very clearly, “Mind you, guys, I like doing that to shoulder-blades, too.” And reinstated himself in his corner quietly.
Naturally, they didn’t believe him. Gave him another– he fashioned a bow-tie out of that too. And now what do you think? Our officers were all blooming like daisies in a flowerbed… They took us in, wined and dined us, and we parted as best friends – they turned out to be generous and well-mannered people.
4
“Yes..,” Vovochka said, regarding Rafa and Galya who had long since pushed away from the table. “You eat, eat the jam, poor bastards, I’ll keep to the tea – I miss the Indian stuff, we only get it before the November holidays. Yes, we drank to our hearts’ content, those were the days. Later, my Karelian got bored and headed home, somewhere around Petrozavodsk. He asked me to come with him, but I didn’t and went home to Arzamas instead. So we parted like that, and afterwards I never heard from him. He may be doing time again, or maybe got married, we both felt like settling down – you can only play that hard while you’re young and loaded with easy Taymyr money. Since then I don’t drink, only on holidays, and don’t miss it in the least and highly recommend you do the same. Now, Zoika won’t let me lie, I’m nuts about my chickens and don’t need anyone else. When I get my Orlovs bred back –that’s when we’ll have one last party, and after that I can die happy!”
Tea made Vovochka flushed and somehow less solid; he spilled over the armchair and was quiet for a moment, but could not sit still for long.
“All right, girls, off to bed!” he shooed Rafa’s twins. “Time, time, you’ve already stayed up way late.” He grabbed one under each arm and dragged them off to their room.
After he put them to bed, Vovochka began to pack. He re-tied his boxes, sent Galya to wash dishes in the kitchen and explained to Rafa what to do with the sick hen, which he put into a separate box.
“Listen, do me a small favor, would you please? Just handle it without sentimentality. Take this poor thing back to Moskalev in Podolsk. I would stay myself, but first, I gotta be back at the plant the day after tomorrow and, second, I’m afraid I’d just strangle him like a chick if I lay eyes on him now. That’s not right. Just give him the bird back and tell him he must’ve made a mistake in the dark. If he tries to give you 50 rubles back – don’t take it, money’s not the matter. Tell him it’s his problem, I’ll come back some other time. And don’t worry – I won’t touch him and certainly won’t poison his birds, you should see how beautiful they are… too bad they got fixed up with such a shitty guy. I’ll get the breed going, you can be sure of that, you’ll marvel at them yet – Moskalev will come to me trying to buy, only I won’t sell him any. Would you?”
And he looked at Rafa in such a way that he had to agree. What else was he going to do?
Then they went to bed and Vovochka disappeared into the bathroom – to wash up.
“He doesn’t have any children of his own, but did you see how good he was with ours?” Galya said.
Rafa nodded and for some reason stroked his wife’s hair.