The Lovers. Юлия ДобровольскаяЧитать онлайн книгу.
time I’ve heard that it is easier to live by being sincere and natural than being contrived… sneaky… Or by flirting.”
“What’s so complicated about that?”
“Well… A person always wants something from others. So they have to adjust… play along… sometimes change themselves, or in better cases, bend to the rules.”
“Not everyone wants something from other people,” Dina said with her usual confidence.
“Do you think so? You don’t need anything from anyone else?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Hmmm,” Konstantin Konstantinovich said thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps at your current age and position, you need less than what will soon become the absolute necessity.”
“What do you mean?” she asked incredulously.
“Right now, you are a student. A smart one. You earn your position as a top student and your family’s pride using your brains, persistence and drive. But time will pass, and you will fall in love…” He stopped suddenly. “Love will come to you…” He stopped again. “Or are you in love already?”
Dina dropped her gaze to the candle flame and said, “Please continue with your thought.”
Konstantin Konstantinovich continued. “A person falls in love with another person and starts to demand reciprocal feelings from them. This becomes a performance… a game. Sometimes mediocre, and sometimes simply vile. I suppose you cannot even imagine what love or infatuation can turn into.”
He spoke in agitation, and Dina suddenly remembered the scene between her mom and Uncle Tolya, although she didn’t know what this had to do with what her teacher was telling her.
“Then comes your career. It is an even dirtier beast. If you stay yourself, ‘natural and direct’ as you call it, you won’t get anywhere. At best, you will stay in the lowest position until you retire. If your directness will get in the way, they will fire you in a flash.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, then breathed out the smoke and continued much more calmly, with a slight smirk, “So, young lady, perhaps you should reconsider your principles before it is too late.”
Dina took a deep breath and said, keeping her voice even. “I’m already in love,” she added after a short pause, “with you.” She was silent for a second, but before her companion could say anything, she added, “But I don’t intend to demand anything from you. Do you understand?” She looked directly at Konstantin Konstantinovich.
“Is that so?” The clearly embarrassed Konstantin Konstantinovich tried to maintain a playful tone.
But he was taken aback, discouraged, and didn’t know what to do with this confession.
The hot food arrived very conveniently at this moment, and Konstantin Konstantinovich started to eagerly help the waiter, who was surprised by such keenness.
Dina was also glad for the reprieve, so she turned to the stage and looked at the musicians and then at the area in front of the stage, where a few couples were dancing the still popular twist to the beloved tune of The Black Cat2. She really did not want to tear her gaze away from Konstantin Konstantinovich, but she could not look at him without feeling emotional – maybe it was the effect of the champagne?
Her favorite teacher looked quite different tonight from his usual image as a strict and unapproachable teacher, the way he was at university. Tonight, he was stylishly dressed: narrow trousers, a light brown tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows and leather buttons, and a turtleneck cream sweater, and his whole appearance spoke of lightness, holidays, a game.
“He is so handsome!” trilled Dina’s soul. “And tonight he is with me.” Her feminine vanity timidly piped up, without any expectations for the future, and not thinking about the past.
“Do you dance?” asked Konstantin Konstantinovich when the waiter had finished his job and left, and the ensemble started to play The Moonstone3.
“Yes,” replied Dina.
“May I ask you to dance?” Her companion stood up and reached for her hand.
Dina thought that she could not possibly get any more flustered, that she had reached all possible limits that were compatible with life, so she barely touched her teacher’s palm with her fingers. Her heart was ready to stop altogether – it had deviated from its normal rhythm so suddenly that it simply couldn’t remember it, and was thus in complete disarray.
Konstantin Konstantinovich led Dina to the center of the dance area and held her right hand in his, while his other hand rested ever so gently on her back.
Dina’s breathing had become almost even and her heart had calmed down somewhat and continued its work, albeit in very unusual, hitherto unknown rhythm… No, it recalled that something similar had happened when Arthur Davlatyan had invited Dina to slow dances at student parties – his touch had been just as pleasing. And yet everything was different this time and even more intense.
One of Dina’s hands lay against Konstantin Konstantinovich’s chest, feeling the soft woolen fluffiness of his tweed jacket. The other hand absorbed the heat of the man’s palm, sensing the slightest movement of his muscles as he squeezed and released Dina’s fingers. It seemed as if streams of energy were flowing from his hand… entering her, filling her up. His breath touched her cheek… Dina could hear it, loud and uneven… and it stirred something up inside her.
“You’re so light,” Konstantin Konstantinovich said in her ear.
His voice had become low and slightly husky. She glanced up and her whole being was enveloped in the light radiating from his eyes.
“Really?” She asked, bewildered, not meaning to say that at all.
“Really.” He laughed and pressed her close to him.
He released her at once, but that quick embrace, the passing touch of cheek to cheek, and his low laughter, almost made Dina swoon.
“Bring me the moonstone… bring me the moonstone…” the lead singer uttered, then the music subsided, the saxophone player and guitarists put down their instruments, and the musicians went off for a break.
Spring Rain
Dina and Konstantin Konstantinovich walked slowly across the bridge towards the tram stop.
They had spoken so much and so eagerly at the café, amid the noise and music, that it seemed strange that both were silent now, when they were alone in the silence.
The silence felt awkward as each one evaluated what they had said before and tried to decide if they had been too open or said too much.
Dina noticed a crouching kitten between the bridge pylon and the railing. She came closer and squatted down to stroke the ruffled back, covered in speckles of moisture. But the kitten fled unexpectedly, slipping out from under her fingers. Dina watched him go and stood up again. She put her hands on the bridge railing and looked over the black dense surface of the slow-moving river, which played lazily with the city lights.
“Do you love all animals? Or just cats?” asked Konstantin Konstantinovich, using it as an excuse to break the silence.
He approached the railing and stood next to Dina.
“Just cats,” said Dina.
“You exhibit an incredible combination of female and male traits,” he said and smiled at Dina. “Today has been an endless revelation for me.”
Dina turned to Konstantin Konstantinovich and stared at his face. She suddenly felt that it was not her looking, that she did not exist, and that this man, a completely unknown man, was standing next to an unfamiliar girl, and Dina suddenly wanted to burst into tears for some reason.
But the feeling lasted only a second. In the next moment, she was back in her body, and her hands could feel the cold of the iron railing.
The Black Cat – A popular song of 1963, composed by Y. Saulsky, lyrics by M. Tanich
The Moonstone – A song composed in 1966 by A. Ostrovsky, lyrics by I. Kashezheva