“Bon appetit!” Kulik called out cheerfully from the doorway.
She looked up smiling. “Why, if it isn’t Ivan Kulik. Good to see you. Please, have a seat. Are you hungry? You’re welcome to some of my bread.”
“No, thank you. Actually, I’ve just come from a tavern.”
Zena laughed. “I assumed that much. I can smell the drink on your breath from here. Why don’t you have some tea, it’ll take off the edge, at least before Yeliseyenko gets back. He left for a meeting about an hour ago, he should be back very soon.”
Zena filled a cup with hot tea from a sealed thermos and handed it to Kulik. “Well, what’s brought you to Pinsk?”
“Oh, nothing much, just a few simple school matters. We need some supplies — ink, slates, copybooks. And I’d like to talk to Yeliseyenko about a replacement for Haya Fifkina. Our school has been short-staffed for some time now.”
Zena looked sharply at him. She said quietly, “Are you looking for trouble?”
Kulik was stunned by her question, and felt an uprush of alarm. He didn’t understand what she meant by it. Why did she speak so directly to him? Why would she speak at all? Her words obviously had a hidden meaning. Was she up to something?. He felt that all at once he could see right through her; he could read it in her face. She wasn’t just a secretary as he had thought, she was a government agent, trying to get him, rattle him, to hook him in some way.
But the more he thought these thoughts the more afraid of them he became, so afraid that in the end he chose not to believe them after all. This lovely young woman with the soft, dark eyes and the warm, engaging smile could not possibly be a spy for the Kremlin. But he remained on his guard and watched her carefully.
She put her elbows on her desk and ran her fingers through her hair. “Ivan, how you’ve changed since I last saw you. You’ve aged so. I can see your heart is heavy and you’re filled with worry. You seem afraid.”
Kulik did not respond. He had to believe that she really was an informer, out to get him. Although her voice was smooth and pleasant, there was definitely something menacing, even underhanded about it. And she seemed to be deriving a bitter enjoyment from deceiving him. He was on to her now, and he waited for her to start up one of her cat-and-mouse games. And sure enough, she didn’t waste a second. Drawing her chair a little closer to him, she whispered softly, “Theatrics and secret negotiations. They’re all around us. The stage is out there in the streets, and inside here are the planners and directors.”
“Planners and directors?” echoed Kulik, looking around. “What do you mean?” He was greatly troubled by what she had just said and he could feel her moving in on him. A slip of the tongue and she could finish him off, just like that.
Then unexpectedly, her face changed. She looked helpless and miserable and her mouth twitched with nervous tension. He saw her once again as an ordinary, harmless girl who had simply come to People’s Commissariat of Education to find work as a secretary. Was she really unveiling herself before him and risking everything? If only he could open up to her in the same way she was opening up to him. He wanted to believe in her, more than anything he craved sincerity, but sincerity, he very well knew, was a thing of the past. One wrong move and everything could be over. He understood how difficult it must be for her to reveal her feelings, to take such a chance, if that’s what she was doing.
Suddenly he became convinced of her honesty, and in that split second he resolved to reveal himself too. As he opened his mouth to speak, to disclose his innermost thoughts, he stopped short. No! he could almost hear himself shouting, I will not fall into her trap, not at any price! He saw before him again, not the pretty young secretary with an office in the People’s Commissariat of Education, but a formidable force to be reckoned with. Her show of courage, her vulnerability, were all too obvious — it was just a great act.
He had to recognize how attractive and young she really was, twenty-five at the outside. He was determined not to allow himself to be drawn in by her. An oppressive silence hung in the air. He studied the room. Although the walls were a dingy yellow and there were water stains on the ceiling, her office was clean and well-organized. He said at last, “I must say, you seem quite contented here. Your office is bright and comfortable, even inviting. You appear to have it all, a good salary, an enviable position in the government.” Then, deliberately, to get a reaction from her, “It certainly doesn’t seem to be the kind of place where hard-nosed inspectors are sent out to harass and intimidate poor, unsuspecting village teachers.”
Zena shifted uneasily. “I take it you are referring to Inspector Paspelov? From what I understand, he’s no longer in our employ. Apparently someone in your village cut his career short. Sobakin recommended him highly, and then the next thing I know he’s been terminated. I hear he’s been resettled somewhere in the interior.”
Kulik felt a sense of overwhelming danger. He thought, So that’s it! This tidy little office is more than just an office; it’s much more like a workshop, where, as Zena just pointed out, planners and directors work together to make or break people.
There were faint lines under her eyes and her smile seemed forced and contrived. She was obviously disturbed by something. “Ivan, there are no listening devices here and I’m not two-faced. I want you to believe that. Oh, you don’t know me, you don’t know a thing about me, because if you did, you wouldn’t …” At that point Kulik changed his mind again. This attractive young creature could not be an informer as he had suspected, she was direct and trustworthy. He decided to open his heart to her. She would never betray him, he was sure of that now.
“Zena,” he said, “our lives are empty and our minds are dead. Only a few months have gone by and what a strain on the nerves it’s been. You go out and don’t know if you’ll make it back home, you stay at home and don’t know if late at night you’ll be dragged out of bed with a rifle at your back. You’re afraid to meet with friends and family, you’re even afraid of the sound of a car coming. We’ve been robbed of good humor and our dreams are nightmares. Zena, your eyes are on fire, they’re like magic. I’ve decided to take a chance. You’re free to report me if that’s what you want. I can’t go on living in silence.”
Zena said, without looking up, “You have nothing to be afraid of, Ivan. I’ll never betray you. As the old saying goes, a healthy oak should not fear the storm.”
Kulik smiled. “Your analogy is a thin one, Zena, and doesn’t really offer me much consolation. True, a healthy oak may weather a storm, but how does it protect itself from an axe or a saw? And what if this axe or saw is handled by a lunatic or a buffoon? Then all the trees may fall, and they may fall senselessly and randomly, one after the other, including your oak. Everything and everyone has a breaking point. Even you, Zena.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Now you’re talking nonsense. I think we’ve both said enough for one day.”
She wrapped her bread in brown paper and put it in a drawer. Then she got up and walked to the window. The warm rays of a magnificent mid-afternoon sun touched her face. The air smelled sweet with the freshness of spring.
Kulik watched her tall, lean form throw an elongated shadow across the floor.
He thought, My God, she’s beautiful! Why hadn’t he seen it before? Her golden silky skin, her full raspberry mouth, her slightly aquiline nose — so young and tender. But her features showed strength and determination. This was no ordinary girl!
Zena walked back to her desk, frowning. She said, “You study me like a book. The slightest change in my expression makes you hesitate. You dissect me into the smallest of pieces, like a scientist, and you can’t bring yourself to trust me. Why can’t you accept me for who I am?”