Just then, the door flew open, and a red-haired man in an unbuttoned coat came out onto the porch.
“Is that you, Mrs. Reich?” he cried out delightedly. “Have you come to see me? Or is it Klim you’re after?”
“Have we met before?” asked Nina frowning.
“Of course. I’m Elkin. Don’t you remember me? I came to see your husband to discuss selling a car.”
Nina had no memory of Elkin. Oscar had always had a constant stream of visitors.
“I used to have a garage,” explained Elkin, “but I’ve packed it in now. I’m selling off all my stock.”
He reached into his pocket and fished out a torn visiting card. “Here’s my name and telephone number. Please, remember me to your husband!”
Nina nodded. “He’s abroad at the moment, but I’ll tell him when he comes back.”
She walked quickly past Elkin and made her way up the stairs to the story above.
There was a small landing, a round window, and a smart door with a brass handle in the shape of a comical giraffe.
Nina crossed herself quickly as if she were about to jump into a hole in the ice and pushed the doorbell.
After a few agonizing minutes, Klim appeared at the door. He was wearing a white shirt with the collar unbuttoned, a dark gray waistcoat, and trousers of the same color. His hair was shorter than Nina remembered it.
“Hello,” she said in a weak voice. “May I come in?”
Klim looked at her for a long time. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk.”
The door below banged shut, and they heard Elkin’s voice downstairs. “Please, don’t forget about my car!”
“Come in then,” Klim said shortly. Clearly, he did not want to start a domestic argument in front of his neighbor.
Nina took off her fur coat and began to unlace her overshoes. Klim made no move to help or show her where to hang her coat.
“Where’s our daughter?” she asked.
“Kitty’s not here.”
Nina followed Klim into a living room with colored glass in the windows. He showed her to the divan and sat down on the windowsill as far away from her as possible. He looked at her with cold surprise as if to say “How on earth did you find the cheek to show your face here?”
“I sent you quite a few telegrams,” Nina said. “I waited and waited for you to reply, but it seems you were right here in Moscow all the time.”
“If I’m not mistaken, we separated a year ago,” said Klim. “To tell you the truth, I have no desire to go raking around in the past. You have your life now, and I have mine.”
Nina felt herself grow cold. “But you followed me to Moscow—”
“I think you should leave now,” Klim interrupted.
“Won’t you at least listen to my side of the story? I’m not going anywhere until I’ve spoken to you!”
“If you won’t leave, I will.” Klim got to his feet. “When you get tired of talking to the wall, you can close the door after you.”
Klim left so quickly that Nina had no time to do anything to stop him. She stood in the middle of the room, crushed and miserable.
The day was coming to an end. The windows in Klim’s living room shone like the stained glass windows in a church, but the bronze giraffe heads that decorated the curious branched light-fitting had the look of malevolent imps in the half-light.
Nina walked around the apartment, scrutinizing every last detail. In the typewriter on Klim’s desk, there was an unfinished article in English, and files of newspapers, directories, and piles of telegraph forms were scattered everywhere. It looked as though Klim had found work in Moscow.
Clearly, he had plenty of friends. There was a globe in the corner of the room covered in signatures and good luck messages. And it seemed he had plenty of money too to judge by the freshly upholstered furniture and the expensive china in the cabinet.
Here and there, Nina came across some item Klim had brought to Moscow from Shanghai: the fountain pen she had bought for him in the Wing On department store, a pair of cuff links in the shape of scarab beetles, and a shirt with his initials embroidered on the cuffs. Looking at these things, she felt her heart turn over. Once, they had been as good as hers, but now, she did not even have the right to touch them.
She went into Kitty’s bedroom, and tears came into her eyes. Kitty must have grown a lot, judging by her new dresses and stockings. Her drawings hung all over the walls, and there were toy horses and giraffes strewn across the rug.
Kitty probably doesn’t even remember me, Nina thought bitterly. Little children have short memories after all.
There were two pairs of women’s shoes in the hall, but they were different sizes and clearly belonged to two different women. One was a pair of homemade felt sleepers, the other a pair of elegant leather shoes.
Nina rushed into the bathroom but was relieved to find only two toothbrushes there, one large and one small. There were no women’s clothes in the closets, but Nina found a nail file and a hairpin on the floor. It seemed unlikely that these things belonged to a servant who occupied the little room off the kitchen.
But there was another woman coming to see Klim regularly—she even kept a pair of indoor shoes there to wear around the house.
Nina sat down and buried her face in her hands. What if Klim had met somebody else?
It couldn’t be true, she thought. If so, he would never have been so angry or adopted such a hostile manner with her. Instead, he would have asked her how she was and probably even offered to help her in some way.
“Klim will calm down,” Nina said to herself, “and when he comes back, we’ll sit down and discuss everything like adults.”
Night fell, but he did not come. For minutes at a time, Nina would sit motionless in the armchair before jumping up and pacing the room, unable to bear it anymore. Why didn’t he come back? Where was Kitty? And where was the servant girl? If only someone would come!
Evidently, Klim had decided to spend the night somewhere else.
Nina found a blanket and a pillow, turned off the light, and lay down on the divan in the living room. Not long ago, Klim himself had slept there, and perhaps not only that.
At last, she heard the key turn slowly in the door. Her whole body stiffened, and she strained her ears to catch the slightest sound. The blanket fell to the floor, but Nina did not dare pick it up.
The door creaked, and she heard the sound of cautious footsteps.
“How about a nightcap?” she heard Elkin’s voice from the landing. “Do you have any of that brandy left?”
“Go to bed, for God’s sake, man!” she heard Klim say. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m no more drunk than you are, my dear fellow!”
Apparently, Klim had been sitting with his neighbor downstairs, waiting for Nina to leave.
All was quiet out in the hall. Then at last, Klim came into the living room, bent over, and ripped the telephone cord out of the wall. Then he stood for a long time without saying a word, gazing at Nina.
A minute passed; two minutes; three. Nina was afraid to breathe.
Klim picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and carefully put it over her.
Feeling a pang of overwhelming tenderness, Nina touched his hand, but Klim grabbed her wrist and squeezed it so hard that she screamed in pain. “What are you doing? Let me go!”
His fingers continued to press on her wrist as if he wanted to break it.
“Stop!” she cried. “You’re hurting me!”
He flung down her hand and left the room. Nina heard the door of Kitty’s bedroom slam shut.