Nok asked to have her photograph taken against the backdrop of the night city – she walked up to the fence and turned round to him with a serious, unsmiling face. The wind caught her hair, sweeping it up; she raised her hands to catch it and the bracelet slid from her wrist to the middle of her forearm, its diamonds sparkling and flashing. Her thin dress clung to her body and her entire being seemed poised for flight, almost breaking loose from the floor to be borne away – upward, onward… It lasted for only a few seconds, but Brevich experienced and absorbed each gesture and moment – forever searing them into his memory. He even thought he heard some indistinct words – possibly the words of the Buddha. Finally, the course of nature slowed down; everything froze, stopped. And – there and then rushed off again.
Life continued on, and time flowed inexorably – in the clatter of crockery and the music from the bar, in the obsequious smiles of waiters and the rapid replenishment of drinks and dishes. It was still the same Saturday – and it was coming to an end. Despite the romantic atmosphere, the dinner flagged somewhat and the conversation failed to flow. Nok behaved strangely, making silly comments, ordering cocktails and setting them aside, reproaching Ivan, jokingly, for being old and overweight and for not speaking Thai. Brevich tried to make witty lighthearted replies, but they did not come out right – and for some reason, she failed to understand his English.
That night they both slept little – just lying in each other’s arms, after short, perfunctory lovemaking. In the morning, Nok took him to the airport. Registration was quick; afterward, they stood for a few minutes at the VIP turnstile, lightly touching each other like a couple of teenagers. Summoning all her strength, Nok pronounced the customary phrases – wishing him a comfortable flight and expressing the hope she would see him again. Ivan remained gloomily silent. She added with a smile, “There are many clichés on this subject; you don’t even have to make them up. Just read them on the internet and console yourself with the one that’s most apt. Such as, ‘Everyone has their own life to lead.’ Or ‘Everyone needs to move on…’”
Brevich moved to embrace her for the last time, but she suddenly recoiled, looked into his face and exclaimed almost with hatred, “Don’t you dare forget me!” And a second later was holding him tight in her arms, clinging to him, pressing her whole body against his. He whispered something to her, knowing in his heart that “to forget” was exactly what he intended to do. It was the right and reasonable thing for both of them, and the sooner it happened, the better.
In the departure lounge, Ivan switched off his phone and threw away his Thai SIM card. On the way to the plane, he talked angrily to himself, remembering like mantras his suspicions and nocturnal ponderings. But his words wouldn’t flow, and by the time he had reached his seat they had ceased to mean anything. He suddenly understood with the utmost clarity that there was nothing to ponder about. Nok simply loved him with all her big Asian heart – every minute, every moment. At the same instant, he realized how insanely bitter it would feel never to see her again. He knew only one method to fight the pain of this awareness – alcoholic oblivion. And so, Ivan Brevich spent the entire flight seriously drunk.
Chapter 8
Nok had a terrible three weeks after Ivan’s departure. The dust settled, and it became clear: her world had changed forever. At its core was a void – she had never previously imagined there could be such a huge empty space. What’s more, she had learned something about the walls that surround human hearts – if you’re happy with someone, they get thinner and thinner with each passing hour. Her own “wall” had crumbled without a trace after their first night together. Now it made no sense to hide this fact from herself.
She had no one to complain to, no one to confide in. Her girlfriends would never have understood it – there was no way a “good” Thai girl could possibly have gone to bed with a married farang on their third date. If, however, at a stretch, one were to throw modern progressive notions into the mix, explaining everything in terms of gender equality and a simple desire to have the same fun as men, then it wasn’t clear why her heart was troubling her so much. The “progressive” Nok should have been in control of the situation and not lost her head by falling in love – even and in spite of her hateful loneliness…
One evening she was watching a Thai television drama featuring a heroine who had discovered she could travel into a different time through an old mirror on her wall. There, quite predictably, she fell in love. A drama ensued, threatening a doubling of her being, a sea of troubles and a mountain of woes. In the end, she had to choose between reality and the looking-glass; the heroine ended up smashing the insidious mirror, thus closing her way to the other world forever… Wiping away her tears, Nok went into her bathroom and for a long time stared at the mirror above the washbasin. It wasn’t going to transport her to distant Russia or the recent past, when Ivan had been with her and held her in his arms. Yet she was sure: a different world did exist – and her own parallel future was waiting nearby. She, too, would have to make a choice – with or without a mirror – and there would have to be some sort of sign.
It didn’t take long for the sign to manifest itself. Soon after, Nok suddenly felt ill while climbing the stairs to a skytrain station. Her eyes clouded, and she sank down onto the platform, losing consciousness for a few seconds. An elderly woman standing beside her helped her to get up, led her to a bench and asked what had happened. Nok replied, “A darkness came over me.” And indeed, while she had fainted, all sorts of horrors had loomed up at her – undefined, terrifying shadows she didn’t want to recall.
The next day, she discovered she was pregnant. “Which part of the country are you from?” the doctor asked and made a joke about the fecundity of Nok’s home province of Phetchabun. Nok smiled back at him, happily, almost serenely. In some strange way, the news reassured her; she realized: here was the indication from fate she had been waiting for.
Her thoughts and feelings became clearer, her picture of the world falling into place decisively. She easily found answers to the questions that had been bothering her – it had seemed there were a lot, but in reality only two were important. An abortion was out of the question – for a Buddhist it would have been the most terrible sin, causing irreparable damage to her karma. That meant, Nok told herself, she would be having a baby. And simultaneously she acknowledged: Ivan, the child’s father, was the only man she wanted to live with. It wasn’t just a question of her feelings – they had not vanished, but now something else was added to them. Nok’s mind returned to basics; the challenge she now faced was to create a decent life for her child. The answer to this challenge was obvious: Brevich. He was the solution to her problems, filling all the empty gaps perfectly.
To assure herself of her decision, Nok did what any Thai women would have done – she went to see a fortune-teller. The latter was a young woman with large and powerful features who immediately stated, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Nok nodded silently. The fortune-teller laid out her cards, studied them for a long time, shuffled them around the table and then declared with a sigh, “Your chances of being with the man you love or remaining alone are approximately equal. You’re not going to like this, but, believe me, fifty-fifty isn’t such bad odds. I can see your man – he is big, tall and much older than you… A farang, of course.”