He was confused and apprehensive. As senior officer present, he knew that he must take command of the situation, but he’d never been tested by a crisis like this before. Perhaps it happened regularly in Moscow. On the other hand, continued crying by the girl might lead to demoralization, even defeatism! Then he remembered the bouquet, whose stems had grown slightly sweaty in his hand. He reached across and placed it near the girl’s face. The weep-
ing subsided instantly - Sasha thought of a kitten being distracted by a string - and slowly diminished to an occasional sighing sob.
‘Lilac?’ the girl asked, barely audibly.
‘I just bought them, just now.’
‘And narcissus? Tulips?’
‘I think so. Yes of course - you’ve got a fine sense of smell.’
‘My name’s Oktyabrina. I’m not frightened any longer/
‘I’m Alexander - they call me Sasha. Everything’s going to be all right.’
In the darkness, they talked about themselves, recited capsule biographies, and reached for each other’s hands. His were strong but gentle; hers were as delicate as the promise of her voice. The bouquet kept sliding down the railing. Someone had a sneezing fit and they began to laugh.
Then the power came on as suddenly as it had failed, propelling the escalators apart at their usual speed. ‘We waved frantically to each other as his escalator hurled him downward and mine bore me on high - as if on a pedestal. At the bottom landing Sasha dashed onto the up stairs -but at the top, I dashed onto the down. We zoomed past each other again, laughing at our own predicament as if we were the oldest, fondest friends. ... By the time we actually met, dear Zhoseph - well, neither of us is religious, of course, but we both perceived that this was something anointed.’
‘Aw shucks,’ said Alexander softly. ‘You’re too much, little Chipmunk. You add something new every time.’
‘Shame on you Sashka darling. You’ve forgotten half already. If I don’t remember, who else will?’
Oktyabrina gazed at him aglow with a delirious-happiness-at-my-man’s-side expression. But a moment later, a discrepant expression took command: the desperate-need-for-a-bathroom look, no doubt caused by the excitement of her long narrative.
‘I’ll be right back ,’ she warbled. ‘Don’t dream of saying anything juicy while I’m away.’ She dashed towards the 138
door, trailing her gauzy mantilla over the dirty floor. When she’d gone, Alexander gracefully withdrew a quarter-liter bottle of vodka from under his tunic and offered me a swig. Under-the-overall vodka boozers in that kind of cafe are usually the sort who literally drink away their pay and lurch home to punch their wives. But Alexander’s gesture was so open, and he in general was so artless and good-natured that I would have been coarse to refuse.
He retrieved the bottle and wiped the lip with his palm. His boyish smile remained fixed during his own swig, allowing a trickle of vodka to escape down his chin. He wiped it with the back of the same hand and examined the bottle.
Tm not really fond of this white stuff,’ he admitted. ‘But the pressures of modern life. . . . Frankly, I’m beginning to spot plain hogwash - higher up, where there should be solid sense.’
‘What seems to be troubling you, Alexander?’
‘Nothing really. Only I wish they’d stick to the missiles and battle games, without all that ideology we have. Ideology, political vigilance - all that stuff makes you stiff in the ass.’
The second swallow of vodka was more pleasant than the first. Alexander was in an uncommonly loquacious mood.
‘I don’t know how you teach it in Poland, of course. But what’s troubling me, frankly, is the confusion in our Party line. On one front, we’re battling the American imperialists - that I understand. But now the enemy’s also inside the socialist bloc - Yugoslav revisionists, Chinese adventurists... What do I care? Let them all catch the plague.
He inspected my cigarette fighter at arm’s length. One eye was closed, as if he were sighting a rifle.
‘What do you do for your political exams?’ I asked, sensing a story. ‘I’d imagine “catching the plague” is a fairly weak answer.’
‘That’s the trouble: I keep forgetting the new answers.’ He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘But whenever I’m in real trouble, brother, I reach down in my memory for a
juicy quote about the Party's relentless struggle against all enemies of the working class. And sprinkle Lenin's name everywhere - it gets them every time.'
He treated himself to another large swig. ‘Yes sir, most people is just aching to be bamboozled.’
‘Never mind, Alexander. In vodka veritas.'
‘The girls, for instance. That yam about never seeing a big city before - it always gets them, every dam time. Works even better in Leningrad - you should see the broads dying to drop their drawers in that old town. You should see the drawers up there - genuine nylon!’
It was no doubt my expression which caused the swift transformation of his. Suddenly, I felt a wave of repugnance for this fop of a soldier and his implications. To take advantage of Oktyabrina and boast about it required a special vulgarity. Just as suddenly, he became humbly repentant, like a Norman Rockwell kid caught at the wheel of a neighbor's car.
‘Listen brother, you've got things wrong. I didn’t mean to insult your gal. Anything you do with the Chipmunk is fine with me. The more loving you do, the less fighting and hating you’ll get into, I always say. ... So about the Chipmunk: relax, 1 don’t mind. If you're poking her, good luck to the both of you!’
This was too much. First he seemed to be bragging about his conquests - now about mine.
‘Now listen yourself, Zavodin. She's not my “gal" and I'm not making love to her. Nobody is. Can't a veteran Romeo like you see that?'
‘Sure I see that about the Chipmunk, I ain’t blind. Only I didn't see it then, on the escalator - you couldn't see nothing until the power came on. A city packed with classy nookie and I meet her the first day! Skin and bones - and her rags for camouflage. ... Foul luck, brother - and now you won't drink with me.'
It was my turn for repentance. ‘So you did meet in the metro,' I said. ‘That's something, at least. Tell me exactly 140
what happened, from the beginning/
That s where we met all right, but not the way she likes to invent. I never knew nothing until she was shoving some posies up my nose. Posies make me sneeze. Then, out on the street, she keeps tailing me - I can’t hurt her feelings, can I? I never do, even when I don’t want to poke them. So I say hello Little One” — and that’s my mistake: it gets harder to escape, day by day. You tell me how to slip the collar, I can t think. The wrong word from me - it’ll break her little Chipmunk’s heart/
At this moment an outburst shattered the cafe’s listless routine. A filthy man at the counter began cursing the girl who was dishing out the soup. While gazing at Alexander, she apparently scalded the man’s hand with a misaimed ladle. He reached for her, slipped, and demanded a glass of vodka. The girl was joined in defense by several colleagues in dirty smocks.
Without a word, Alexander and I rose, and went to the door through which Oktyabrina had gone. When she reappeared a few minutes later, the mantilla was wrapped around the lower part of her face.
‘Guess who , darling/ she sang to Alexander. ‘For a man in love, no disguise conceals the eyes. . . . Please don’t go back to those dreadful barracks now. Succumb to your instincts and let’s do something glorious tonight/