A short story by Mikhail Samarsky
Although Kristina had not seen Tereza for nearly seven years, she recognized her from a distance. That distinctive, springy walk was unmistakable. Tereza still seemed to bounce along, as though at any moment she might break into a run. She had lost a little of her former quickness, perhaps, but the signature remained.
Kristina decided not to reveal herself immediately. She stepped aside, pulled her hat down over her forehead, and watched her friend. Finding no one waiting for her, Tereza looked around in surprise, stuck out her lower lip, glanced inexplicably at the ceiling, and set her suitcase down. A police officer called out that she was blocking the middle of the station hall and motioned for her to move on. Tereza smiled and rolled her case away. At that moment Kristina stepped into her path.
The visitor from Moscow opened her eyes wide, squealed, and flung her arms around her former university classmate.
“Kristya! My darling! You haven't changed at all! Let me have a proper look at you.” Tereza took a step back, then immediately embraced her again. “I swear you look younger. Not like me...”
“Stop putting yourself down,” Kristina protested. “As if you're some old woman! Young, beautiful, full of life...”
“Full of something, all right,” Tereza agreed. “I've put on five extra kilos, and no matter what I do, they won't go away.”
“Stand still! Turn round!” Kristina inspected her friend and shrugged. “Don't talk nonsense. Everything's exactly where it should be. Where would you lose weight from, at your height? Do you want to look like a giraffe?”
They burst out laughing.
“Listen, Terezka...”
“Oh!” Tereza interrupted. “That went straight through my ears! Nobody's called me Terezka in a hundred years.”
“I call you that in my head all the time.” Kristina smiled and stroked her friend's shoulder.
“In your head, maybe. I haven't heard it out loud once since graduation. And don't you think this separation of ours has gone on a ridiculously long time? How many years has it been?”
“Wait, let me count.” Kristina began bending her fingers. “One, two, three... Good heavens. Seven years? Tereza, we haven't seen each other for seven years? That's insane!”
“Yes. Time doesn't just fly...” Tereza searched for a comparison.
“It flies catastrophically fast,” her friend supplied. “I can hardly believe it. By the way, why don't you talk to anyone online anymore? You used to be on Odnoklassniki, then VKontakte. I keep writing to you. What happened?”
“Want the truth? I'm sick to death of the internet. You know what an absent-minded creature I am.”
“I certainly do. What does the internet have to do with that?”
“The same thing happens to me online. First I forget my login, then I lose my password. Once I tried to recover an account and nearly lost my mind. They wanted my old phone number, which I'd changed ten times. I had some Yandex email address I'd forgotten as well. I struggled and struggled, bought a new SIM card, opened a new account, and six months later it happened all over again. I gave up.”
“I noticed your last post was two and a half years ago. And you never answer private messages. Oh, forget the internet. The important thing is that you're standing here. Give me another hug, my girl. I've missed you so much.”
They held one another for another minute, then left the station.
“Shall we walk?” Kristina suggested. “I live nearby, no more than two kilometres away. Or would you prefer a taxi?”
“A walk will do us good. We can talk on the way. My suitcase is light.” She lifted it by its handle. “There's practically nothing inside. Just knickers and tights.”
“Then why on earth bring a coffin of a suitcase like that?”
“I wasn't going to. I have a wonderful little travelling bag. I'd packed everything, the taxi was due any minute, and suddenly the zip split apart. I had to repack in a hurry. And I've brought you presents. Granny Morya sent some ‘living water’ and a few other things.”
“Granny Morya? Your grandmother? How is she?”
“Just as she's always been. Busy as a bee, forever bustling about, doing something, giving advice left and right.”
“How old is she now?”
“Ninety next year. We're planning a big celebration.”
“Wonderful! I doubt we'll live that long. You should ask her the secret of longevity.”
“She has only one secret. You remember her language. She says: ‘Eat less, for heaven's sake!’ And then she adds that if she hadn't been hungry as a child and a young woman, she'd have died years ago.”
“Perhaps she's right,” Kristina said thoughtfully. “Look at what we eat: processed sausage, yoghurts that last forever, soup with a shelf life of two or three weeks. How can soup keep for three weeks? What on earth do they put into it? When Mum made soup, it turned sour if you didn't finish it in two or three days.”
“You buy ready-made meals?”
“Sometimes.”
“The horror!” Tereza rolled her eyes theatrically. “I've brought you real food. The sort that makes people live to ninety.”
“Excellent! But what's this ‘living water’? Medicine?”
“You'll see.”
“This is getting interesting. We turn right here, then straight ahead to my paradnaya—my entrance hall, I mean.”
“I know, I know,” Tereza grinned. “Everyone in Moscow knows you Petersburg people call an entrance a paradnaya. What we call shawarma you call shaverma. And the stone edging of the pavement...”
“Porebrik?”
“Exactly. What the rest of us call a kerb. They say the same thing in Novosibirsk.”
“The Decembrists must have taken the word there.”
“That's right! Solomon Isaakovich told us about it in a lecture. Remember him?”
“Of course.”
“He died recently.”
“You're joking. How old was he?”
“Eighty-seven.”
“He still looked young.”
“Do you regret moving to Petersburg?” Tereza suddenly asked.
“What would I regret? Is Moscow so much better? It's the same everywhere. I'd be teaching in a Moscow school instead of a Petersburg one. What difference would it make? And you? Where are you working now?”
“At a university. I defended my dissertation. I've had my Candidate of Sciences degree for two years now.”
“Well done! I abandoned all those ambitions. I don't have the patience.”
“Kristya, do you think a degree changes anything? To tell the truth, it's about as much use as milk from a goat. It sounds impressive when somebody asks about your qualifications. ‘Candidate of Sciences!’ And that's the end of it.”
“Does it mean better pay?”
“I'm embarrassed to call what they give me money. They keep saying things should improve, but I haven't seen any improvement yet. Still, I love the work. Tell me about your Dimka. Has he started school?”
“He has. But he doesn't live with me.”
“What? With your husband?”
“Ha! My husband couldn't care less. He hasn't even visited the boy once.”
“He doesn't help you either?”
“I don't want his help.”
“So I won't see your little boy?”
“No. He's staying with my mother out in the region and goes to school there. At first I wasn't convinced when Mum suggested it. But we talked it through. He's better off with her. I don't want him attending the school where I teach.”
“Why not?”
“I'll explain another time. Besides, he has space there, fresh air, a river, lakes, fishing. You should see him in summer—all tanned and taller every year.”
“That's lovely, but doesn't he miss you?”
“Why should he? Every Friday I go out there and come back Monday morning. I've arranged with the headteacher to start with the third lesson on Mondays. So I'm with him nearly half the week. Every visit is a celebration. Although we still manage to quarrel and make up ten times in those three or four days.”
“When I have a child, I don't think I'll ever let him out of my sight.”
“I used to think so too.”
“What a bastard Denis is! Make him pay child support!”
“We'll manage on our own,” Kristina said with a frown. “Mum agrees.”
“I think that's a mistake. Still, you know best. It's such a shame I won't see the boy.”
“You talk as if this is our last meeting.”
“At the rate we've been seeing each other, the next time I arrive you'll have grandchildren!”
“Bite your tongue!”
“You can spit over your shoulder all you like. Turn on the television and look what teenagers are getting up to. Having children at fifteen, seventeen. I recently watched a programme about a fifteen-year-old father and a thirteen-year-old mother!”
“I intend to keep a firm grip on things,” Kristina declared.
“God help you. When I think of our wild youth, I wonder how I escaped without consequences.”
“By the way, whatever happened to that Kirill of yours?”
“Nothing was ever going to happen. I realised he had no intention of settling down. Yulka from the second university group gave me an idea—she teaches with us now. I told him I was pregnant. You should have seen him panic. I didn't need another explanation after that. I went right off him.”
“And you've been living without a man all this time?”
“More or less. I allow myself the occasional day off.” Tereza laughed. “What about you?”
“By your definition, I sometimes take a day off too.”
They laughed again.
“Tell me something, Tereza,” Kristina asked, stopping. “Are you happy? How would you describe your life? Honestly.”
“More yes than no. You know I'm not demanding. Remember how Bunin defined happiness? Three things make people happy: love, interesting work, and the opportunity to travel. Love comes and goes; I hope mine is somewhere nearby. I enjoy my work. And look”—she nodded towards the suitcase—“I'm travelling.”
Kristina hugged her and kissed her cheek. “My travelling frog!”
“You wrote to me three years ago about an extraordinary lover,” Tereza said suddenly. “Who was he?”
“Oh. A parent of one of my pupils. It's a story I'm almost ashamed to tell.”
“Ashamed of telling me?”
“It all happened so unexpectedly. Terezka, I can't tell you. It's embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? And all those adventures at university weren't?”
“Those were embarrassing too. We were young. All right, listen. A father came to my apartment to ask about his son. We sat opposite each other. He crossed his legs, smiled, cracked jokes. He was an attractive man. Very handsome, very... appetising. And we were at home, not in school. My imagination started playing tricks. I got thirsty, rose from my chair and offered him a glass of water. As I walked past him, he...”
“He assaulted you?” Tereza gasped. “Good God!”
“I wouldn't call it rape, but he suddenly reached under my skirt and grabbed me between the legs so sharply I nearly cried out.”
“What did you do?”
“I said, ‘What on earth do you think you're doing?’ And he said, ‘Kristina Valeryevna, I want to be the tamer of your little furry beast!’”
“The tamer of what?”
“Of my ‘little furry beast’!” Kristina burst out laughing. “I was so taken aback. I was half laughing, half—well, while he was holding me and supposedly taming my little beast, I had the most astonishing orgasm of my life. I nearly fainted.”
“My goodness, you little pervert!” Tereza grinned. “And what happened next?”
“We spent the whole night in bed. The next morning I wrote to you, but I was too quick to boast. He never came back.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“Sometimes. We say hello and talk, but there was never any more sex.”
“A one-use man, apparently.”
“Let him go. I've never felt anything quite like it before or since, so I can at least thank him for that.”
“‘Little furry beast!’ Imagine inventing a phrase like that.”
“Well, here we are. Third floor.”
Kristina's apartment had two rooms.
“This one's yours.” She opened the door. “The lock doesn't work, I'm afraid. The bolt broke.”
“Who would I lock myself away from? Unless you plan to burst in during the night?”
“Maybe I will.” Kristina winked.
“Be my guest. I won't object.”
While Tereza took a shower, Kristina busied herself in the kitchen. She didn't attempt anything elaborate, simply frying slices of bologna sausage with eggs.
“What smells so wonderful?” Tereza asked as she emerged from the bathroom.
Kristina looked admiringly at her friend's close-fitting silk dressing gown.
“Good heavens! And you're worried about five extra kilos? Sit down. I'm as hungry as a wolf!”
“Wait, Kristya! I've got the living water and a few other things in my case. One moment!”
Tereza went into the bedroom and returned a minute later carrying a bottle and a slab of cured pork fat.
“There. All homemade! The pork and the, shall we say, restorative beverage.”
“What's that?” Kristina asked, then took a closer look. “Moonshine?”
“The very thing.”
“And you call it living water?”
“Not me. Granny Morya does. What are you pulling that face for? All your expensive whiskies and gins aren't fit to lace its boots. Most important, you know you won't be poisoned. Pour us a little. We need to unwind. Your tale of the furry beast has left my head spinning.”
“You liked it?” Kristina asked in surprise.
“It was unexpected, to say the least.”
“The surprise was what overwhelmed me. He grabbed me, it hurt, I could hardly breathe, I...”
“Even telling it now, your eyes are shining.”
Kristina poured the liquor into tiny glasses. As hostess, she offered the first toast.
“Well, Tereza. Thank you, darling, for finally finding the time to visit. I promise I'll come to Moscow myself as soon as I possibly can. We have to see each other more often. What kind of friends disappear for seven years simply because they've moved to different cities? It's a disgrace! Here's to you, my dear.”
They drank. For the next minute Kristina struggled to catch her breath.
“My God, this really is living water. It could raise a corpse from the grave! How strong is it?”
“Granny Morya says at least seventy-five per cent.”
“You might have warned me!” Kristina wiped tears from her eyes. “You need soda water with something like this. Since I don't have any, we'll use mineral water. Essentuki Number Four. Nectar of the gods.”
At that moment the doorbell rang.
“Oh God. Who on earth is that?”
Kristina approached the peephole and studied whoever was outside. Then she turned to her friend and whispered, “The militia!”
“The police,” Tereza corrected in an equally quiet voice. “What do they want?”
“No idea. Should I open it?”
“Of course. We're not hiding from anybody.”
Kristina opened the door. A uniformed policeman of about thirty-five stood on the landing, accompanied by a much younger man in civilian clothes.
“Good evening,” the policeman said in a deep voice. “Captain Korobov, your district police officer. This is Anton, my trainee. Which one of you is Citizen... one moment...” He opened a notebook, riffled through the pages, and found the name. “Citizen Listyeva, Kristina...”
“That's me,” Kristina interrupted.
“Very good. I'll need an explanatory statement from you.”
“About what?”
“Don't worry, Kristina Valeryevna. Ten minutes at most.”
“I'm not worried. I'd simply like to know what I'm supposed to explain.”
“Your neighbour, Tamara Timofeyevna Krol, has lodged a complaint that you keep her awake at night.”
“Oh, Kristya, you naughty girl!” Tereza laughed. “So that's what you do at night.”
“Captain,” Kristina said firmly, “am I allowed to file a complaint against that old rabbit?”
“A formal statement,” the policeman corrected her. “Certainly. You have that right. But her name is Krol, not Rabbit.”
“She could be a troll for all I care. I'm not writing any explanation.”
“Calm down. I'll write it. You only have to sign. If you want to lodge a counterstatement, so be it.”
“It's terrorism, that's what it is!” Kristina exclaimed. “That old witch won't leave me alone. One night I'm allegedly moving armchairs, another my bed is creaking, then I'm supposedly throwing bottles off the balcony. None of it is true. First, I'm away at my mother's every weekend. Second, I teach school. I have to be at work by eight in the morning. What bottles, beds and furniture? In the evenings I barely reach my pillow, and in the mornings I sometimes sleep through the alarm. What is wrong with Tamara Timofeyevna?”
“She's an elderly lady. Try to be forgiving.” Captain Korobov smiled. Then he turned to Tereza. “Do you live here too?”
“No. I'm visiting my friend.”
“May I see your passport?”
Tereza fetched it from the bedroom, visibly irritated. The captain checked it, handed it back, and apologised.
“So,” he asked Kristina, “do you want to put anything in writing, or shall we let it pass?”
“You mean we can just let it pass?”
“Beautiful ladies can do whatever they please.” He grinned. “I see you're in the middle of something, and here we come bothering you with silly forms. Enjoy your evening, girls. We won't interfere. Although it's a shame to leave. You're both terribly pretty.”
“If it's such a shame, then don't leave,” Kristina said unexpectedly. “Come and have a drop with us. My friend brought some living water. Oh, let me introduce you. Tereza is a Candidate of Philological Sciences. She teaches at university.”
“Delighted.” The officer kissed her hand. “Viktor Ivanovich Korobov.”
Anton decided not to fall behind his superior. He kissed Tereza's hand as well, blushing scarlet.
“Come into the kitchen. There's room for everyone.”
The policemen entered the spacious kitchen, and Kristina took extra plates from the cupboard.
“Nothing fancy. We're eating straight from the frying pan. Just like our student days.”
“You studied together?” Korobov asked.
“Same class,” Kristina said.
“Let me guess what subject you teach at school.”
“Go on.”
“Russian language and literature!”
“And they say policemen aren't very bright!” Kristina laughed.
“Who says such nonsense?” the captain asked in mock indignation. “Look at this young man. He knows the whole of Eugene Onegin by heart.”
“You're joking!” Tereza exclaimed.
“Not at all,” Anton replied.
“Admirable. The more policemen know Pushkin by heart, the more cultured our country will become.”
“Exactly! Now, shall we try that living water of yours?” Korobov rubbed his hands. “Girls, I feel awkward arriving empty-handed. Perhaps I ought to run downstairs to the shop for some cognac and something to eat.”
“Do you think we can't manage with this?” Kristina lifted the bottle. “There's a whole litre. We've only had twenty millilitres each.”
“I can see that. Look at those rosy cheeks!”
The fiery drink went down the captain's throat without difficulty. Anton, evidently inexperienced in homemade spirits, coughed and spluttered for some time.
“Well?” Tereza asked mischievously.
Anton could only nod and wheeze. Korobov declared loudly, “Excellent stuff! Who makes it?”
“My grandmother. She'll be ninety soon.”
“People of that generation know how to make a proper potion. Soviet power taught them well. Thank her for us! Oh, forgive me, Tereza. I slipped into the familiar form of address.”
“Why don't we all use first names?” Kristina suggested. “We're sitting at the same table, after all.”
“No objection from me.” The captain raised his hand. “What about you, Anton?”
“Agreed!”
“Settled, then.”
The food vanished astonishingly quickly. While Kristina was absorbed in conversation with Viktor Ivanovich, Tereza decided to take charge. She sliced more sausage and broke the remaining eggs into the pan. Then she remembered another gift and cried out:
“Good heavens, what a scatterbrain I am! I took it out of the suitcase and forgot to bring it here.”
Before pouring the eggs into the pan, she turned to the trainee.
“Anton, would you mind? There's a jar of pickled cucumbers on the bedroom floor by the windowsill. Could you bring it?”
She noticed that he stayed in the room a little longer than the errand required. When he emerged, he was pale and frightened. He handed her the jar and asked, “Where is your bathroom?”
The captain noticed the young man's condition.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just need the bathroom.”
“Excuse us for a minute, girls,” said Korobov, following his trainee.
“Now explain,” the captain demanded inside. “You look dreadful. What happened?”
“Nothing serious, Viktor Ivanovich. I'll be out in a minute.”
“I'm not leaving until you tell me.”
“It's embarrassing.” Anton lowered his eyes.
“What is?”
“I need to wash myself.”
“What, have you soiled your trousers?” the captain asked with a grin. “Misjudged a fart?”
“No, no! Don't say things like that. I... I came.”
“You what?”
“I had an orgasm.”
“How? You were in the bedroom for thirty seconds at most!”
“That's all it took.” Anton sighed. “Please go outside, Captain. I need to clean up.”
“I don't understand. Were you masturbating in there?”
“No. I don't masturbate at all.”
“Then how did it happen?”
“Well... on the bed... there were some knickers. Pink ones with little frills. I saw them, and...”
“And you came? Can that even happen?”
Anton pulled at his trousers to demonstrate the obvious evidence.
“Apparently it can. Why would I make this up?”
“Good grief. Never heard anything like it.”
“Neither have I. It was the first time. I just imagined Tereza wearing them, and it happened.”
“Go on, wash up, but don't take all night. And tell me, why don't you masturbate? Maybe that's why you've become so sensitive. Don't you have a girlfriend?”
“No. Nothing ever seems to work out. And now I've got the job...”
“But why not take matters into your own hands?”
“Somebody told me it was bad for you. That you could lose your erections.”
“Only an idiot would tell you that!” Korobov patted his shoulder. “Remember: it's exercise, lad. Training! Just like lifting weights.” He mimed raising an imaginary pair of dumbbells. “We'll discuss it later. Now get yourself ready. Sporting greetings!”
The captain returned to the kitchen. While he had been away, the women had helped themselves to another round and were visibly more cheerful.
“We were beginning to wonder why our boys had shut themselves in the bathroom,” Tereza remarked. “Perhaps you don't like women. Or perhaps women aren't your thing at all?”
“Now, now!” the captain said, frowning. “What's that supposed to mean? That sort of thing doesn't survive in our police force. Pour another round!”
Kristina filled the little glasses. They waited for Anton, then invited the trainee to propose the next toast.
“I'd like to drink,” Anton began bravely, “to all this beauty.” He gestured towards the women. “To... well, I'll be honest with you. I've never seen two such beautiful women before!”
“You're flattering us, Antoshka,” said Tereza, by now quite merry.
“No, he isn't,” the captain objected. “I can confirm it.”
“How do you know?” Kristina laughed. “Did he tell you in the bathroom?”
“He didn't tell me. He showed me!”
“What?” the women exclaimed together. “What did he show you?”
“Viktor Ivanovich, please! Not the details!” Anton begged.
“Oh, this is interesting!” Tereza clapped her hands. “I want details.”
“Don't be shy, lad. You're young. Nothing to be ashamed of,” the captain told him.
“Will someone tell us what happened?” Kristina demanded.
“He's too embarrassed!” Korobov laughed.
“Then you tell us,” Tereza insisted. “I demand the details!”
“All right. Whose knickers are lying on the bed?” The captain nodded towards Tereza's bedroom.
“Oh!” It was now Tereza's turn to blush. “Mine.”
“There you are. Anton looked at them and came. There's your answer to whether he's flattering you. If a mere glimpse of a pair of knickers gives him an orgasm...”
“Is it true, Antoshka?” Kristina asked.
“It's true.” The boy nodded, crimson-faced.
“Don't blush. There's nothing disgraceful about that in a young man. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Well, there you are,” Kristina spread her hands. “Here he is, sitting with two lovely women in silk dressing gowns. Anyone would lose his head. Wouldn't they?”
Anton smiled and nodded.
Tereza hurried into the bedroom.
“Too late now!” Kristina called after her, laughing. “First you nearly make the poor boy faint, and then you rush off to hide your knickers.”
“I didn't realise... I mean...” Tereza stammered. “Anton, please forgive me.”
“I'm not offended,” the young man said with a shrug.
“What are you apologising for?” the captain asked. “He's had an experience he'll remember for the rest of his life.”
“Can we change the subject?” Anton pleaded. “I feel rather awkward.”
“Then pour another round,” Tereza said. “Let's drink to love!”
“Now that's a proper toast!” the captain agreed.
Suddenly Viktor Ivanovich remembered that he had not handed in his service weapon at the end of his shift. He called the duty officer and arranged to bring it back in the morning. Fortunately, a friend of his was on duty. Otherwise he would have had to return to the station at once.
“What an evening we've had,” he declared when he came back to the kitchen.
Both women were by now thoroughly enlivened by Granny Morya's magic water.
“More!” Tereza demanded.
Without waiting for a toast, or even for the others to refill their glasses, she swallowed another shot, stepped forward and struck the pose of an empress before Anton.
“Anton, I w-want you to become the ta... the tamer of my... what's the word? Kristina, remind me. Ah! I want you to tame my little furry beast!”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed the captain. “What on earth is that? What kind of furry beasts have you got here?”
“Don't be scared,” Kristina giggled. “They don't bite.”
“What doesn't?”
“The furry beasts,” she repeated, rolling her eyes.
“What beasts?” He was utterly baffled.
Kristina decided a demonstration would be more helpful than explanations. Very slowly, she began lifting the hem of her dressing gown. Viktor Ivanovich followed the movement with dry lips and undivided attention. Only when he caught a glimpse of what she meant did the penny drop.
“What a fool I am!” He slapped his forehead, then knelt before Kristina and kissed her stomach. A moment later he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Soon unmistakable sounds came through the door.
Tereza was not about to remain idle. She took Anton by the hand and led him into her own bedroom.
Half an hour later the company gathered again around the kitchen table.
“Long live Granny Morya!” the captain declared. “But I think I'd better go and buy some cognac. Granny couldn't have anticipated two extra mouths.”
Fifteen minutes later Viktor Ivanovich returned with a significantly improved selection of refreshments. Alongside the cognac were red caviar, chocolate, sweets and various delicacies.
“Clever man!” Kristina praised him, holding out her arms. “Come and let me kiss you. You're so thoughtful! Are you always like this, or...?”
“Always,” he replied before she could finish.
“Vitya, are you married?” Kristina asked directly.
“Yes and no,” the policeman answered evasively.
“How can that be?”
“Simple. There's still a stamp in my passport, but we no longer live together.”
“Why? Do you drink too much?”
“No, not especially. And I don't want to speak badly of my wife. She's a good woman, really. She cooked, kept the house tidy, made sure we all had clean clothes...”
“Children?” Kristina interrupted.
“Of course. Two of them, a boy and a girl. The boy's twelve and the little one is in second grade. They're the ones I feel sorry for.”
“You could have stayed until they grew up.”
“I tried! But however much money I brought home, it was never enough. She practically pushed me into committing crimes. She'd say, ‘Take bribes! Everyone does, so why shouldn't you?’”
“Well, quite a few of your colleagues aren't above it,” Tereza observed. “And you...?”
“I don't want to. I won't pretend I'm a saint. Sometimes I accept something if it doesn't have consequences. People sometimes want to thank me. Recently a businessman came in and handed me a hundred thousand rubles. Said it was a token of gratitude from people in our district. For what, I never quite understood. But I took it. Why refuse if nobody's asking me to arrest somebody or hurt anyone? You could hardly call that corruption.”
“Corruption is indestructible,” the visitor from Moscow suddenly announced. “Here's a question. Who were the world's very first corrupt individuals?”
Both policemen shrugged.
“Something in Ancient Greece or Rome?” Anton suggested.
“Oh, you ignorant peasants!” Tereza laughed. “The first corrupt people on earth were Adam and Eve! First Eve acquired the apple, then she slipped it to Adam, and the fool took a bite. On the one hand he made a terrible mistake. On the other, without that forbidden apple he'd still be running round Eve, never knowing what sweet little furry creature lived between her legs!”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“Tereza!” the captain roared. “A Candidate of Sciences! You really have outdone yourself!”
The men did not leave until just before dawn. Tereza had fallen asleep before they said goodbye, but everyone was delighted with the unexpected evening. Kristina even shed a few tears.
Around lunchtime the doorbell rang again. Kristina peered through the peephole and clapped her hands with delight. On the landing stood Viktor Ivanovich with a bottle of champagne, grinning from ear to ear.
“Emergency service, ladies!” he announced. “Didn't expect us?”
“Wonderful!” Kristina cried. “But where's your orderly?”
“My what?” Korobov asked.
“Your trainee.”
“Oh, Anton! He said he'll come to the station to see Tereza off.”
Tereza's face fell. She lowered her head and wandered into the bedroom.
“Hey, what's the long face?” the captain called. “Come and have a glass of bubbly. Life will look better. The boy's busy, that's all. Besides, he got a dressing-down for coming home at dawn.”
“From whom?” Tereza asked.
“His mother. Don't let his age fool you. He's a grown man, but he lives with his parents. And as long as he does, his mother worries where he spends his nights. I once heard her tell him, ‘If you don't want me telling you when to come home, rent your own flat and live independently.’”
“Fair enough,” Kristina said.
After administering this cheerful remedy to both women, Viktor Ivanovich departed, promising to appear at the station later to see the visitor from Moscow off.
Fifteen minutes remained before Tereza's train was due to leave. Everyone was there except Anton. Tereza grew more nervous by the minute. While the captain stepped away, she confided in Kristina:
“I don't understand what's happening to me. Kristya, I feel like a fifteen-year-old girl, waiting and worrying about Anton. Have I fallen in love? But he's practically a boy! What am I doing?”
“A boy?” Kristina smirked. “He's twenty-three. Some boy!”
“It's not his age on his passport. You've seen him. He's so... he's so sweet. He said he'd come. The train's almost leaving, and there's no sign...”
At that moment Kristina spotted Anton running along the platform.
“There he is, racing like an antelope!” she said, nodding towards him.
Anton arrived breathless, mumbled a greeting, and wrapped his arms around Tereza.
“I thought you weren't coming,” she sighed. “Let's get into the carriage. We leave any minute.”
“Come with me. I have something to tell you.” The captain came up at that moment, and the trainee shook his hand.
“We'll put her bags in the compartment and be right back,” Anton said.
The compartment was empty. Anton locked the door, embraced Tereza, and whispered:
“Terezochka, I want to ask you something. Promise you'll do it.”
“How can I promise before I know what it is?” she smiled.
“It's a very simple request. Really simple. You needn't worry.”
“All right, I'll take a chance for you. I promise. Tell me.”
“Just don't laugh.”
“Tell me! The train's about to move!”
“Give me your knickers,” Anton whispered, dropping his eyes.
“What?” Tereza raised her eyebrows. “What knickers?”
“Any pair. Yours, of course. Please don't refuse.”
“Oh, Anton, you dreamer! I haven't even got a clean pair. I only came for one night.”
Anton hugged her tightly and whispered:
“You silly Candidate of Philological Sciences. What would I want with a washed pair?”
Tereza opened her suitcase and handed him a pair of pink knickers.
“These?”
“Those!” He kissed them and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Come on, say goodbye to Kristina and Viktor Ivanovich. And next week, expect me to come and visit.”
“My love!” A happy smile lit Tereza's face. She embraced the young man and kissed him.