“Tumenov asked me to tell you everything that you might want to know about the mistress,” Alexander droned on with a strange face expression that did not allow Victor to understand whether the driver found anything strange both in the character and in the context of his assignment or not.
Presumably, the problem situation in the relationship between the husband and the wife was neither a secret, nor even a mystery for him.
“Do not you mind if we sit down?” Victor asked and pointed in the direction of an old sofa. “And would not you be so kind to give me a paper sheet and a pencil, please? Usually I take a notebook with me, but today it has slipped my memory for some reason.”
“Well, I am not sure but I can have a good look here,” Alexander agreed in a strange manner and without haste plodded on in the direction of the dresser he was leaning against quite recently.
In the meanwhile, Victor approached the sofa and carefully sat down on it, examining a big wooden table with fretted legs standing beside and looking like a homemade, but at the same time it was truly praiseworthy.
“You made it?” Victor asked with interest, having pointed at the table without looking at the interlocutor.
“Sort of…” Alexander only nodded in response, “I think I’ve found a paper sheet, but it is with a recipe on it, is it fine?”
“And what exactly recipe is that?” Victor smiled.
“La-yer ca-ke,” Alexander read hardly, squinting in semi-darkness, “I think so, I cannot be sure, since it is not mine. Seriously, it is not mine.”
“I would not mind having one layer cake now, and a pen, please. I remember when I was a kid, I liked to construct things too,” Victor reminded himself, having once again looked at the table; he seemed to be talking to himself, which could be proven by awkward silence of the second addled person. “Well, okay,” he exhaled and armed himself with a pen, having put on his lap the old sheet of paper that had already changed several shades before sticking with the dark yellow. “What can you tell me about Mariam’s character?”
“I wish I knew what I can tell you about her and her character,” he shrugged his broad shoulders and made a grimace of a true, if not to say the deepest, confusion. “I would highly appreciate if you asked me something specific, so that I could give you a concrete answer.”
“Yes, perhaps you are right, I should think before asking,” Victor scratched his head, borrowing Alexander’s awkward state. “How often have you driven her? Are you familiar with her habits or some favourite places that she likes to visit?”
“It is difficult to say,” the driver seemed being engrossed in thoughts, but despite all his seeming sluggishness and odd answers, this person was not silly. “I used to drive her pretty often,” he responded slowly with some signs of warmth in the voice. “There was time when we had quite good confidential relations.”
“And what happened then? Judging by your tone, I would say that all this had already remained in the past.”
“Well, and then they…” Alexander hesitated for a moment. “Then a new family discord emerged.”
“I am sorry if I am asking something rare, but what did it have to do with you?”
Victor asked, surprised.
“Well, you see, it is exactly when the boss, I mean Tumenov, began giving me those instructions: to go there, to stand here a little, do you follow me?”
“In other words, he asked you to spy on her?”
“Well, of course, he asked. I mean yes and no. What could I do anyway? What could I say? I am a driver, when I am commanded ‘Go!’ I go without asking superfluous questions. Do you think I would still be working here if I said ‘but’ every time when he told me to do something?” Even considering the fact that he spoke in generalities, Alexander obviously felt uneasy, every word made him doubt and ask himself about where his next step should be made but he did not seem to know the answer.
As a result, even having permission to be as frank as possible, the Tumenov’s driver all the same was going to dissemble a considerable part of details with high probability.
“And one day she learned that you were spying on her?” Victor assumed logically.
“Well, of course, she did. I am no spy after all. Sometimes she caught sight of me, then approached and spoke slowly and kindly: ‘Just look whom we have here… And what exactly are you doing here, dear Alexander?’ And what should I have said… Of course, I could not tell her that the boss, well, I mean Tumenov, gave me the orders to shadow her. Well, I had no better idea but to say nonsense, I mean any nonsense that struck me. Like some personal things and so on… One time, another one, then nobody sent me to spy on anybody anymore, but I stopped driving her either. Another thing… Before all this, when we met each other on the doorsteps of the house, while I was waiting for Tumenov, we could have a quick word with her about weather, some news or whatever… Well, you know, about trifles mostly, something really insignificant. But no longer… For the most part, she does not even say ‘hello’, pretending she does not see me,” at the end of the story, Alexander almost completely lost the heart of the problem, then looked somewhere in a corner of the room and got up from his place. “Do not you happen to want some tea?” he inquired casually on his way to a gas-stove on which he put a metal teapot with a green whistle on its nose."
“What are you saying, tea?” Victor asked him to repeat the question. “It would be lovely to have a cup of coffee, thank you.”
“I do not drink it!” Alexander answered instantly. “It spoils my sleep and makes me have truly foolish thoughts when I go sleeping.”
“Well,” Victor mumbled, getting infected with the manner of his interlocutor to begin any phrase with the same word. “Then, taking the circumstances into account, I would say I refuse. Nevertheless, thanks, in any case, for your offer.”
“As you wish and I will drink a cup, to embellish my unexpected day off. Cheers!”
“So what could you tell me concerning her interests? It would be useful for me to learn whatever you could tell, like places, her schedule maybe,” Victor came back to the former theme.
“Well, by the way, in your own estimation, how relevant might my information be? As I’ve just told you, I do not serve as her driver for a year or so. Of course, if you insist, I could tell about what she used to like.”
“Please, I hope it will prove useful. Either way, I have no much of a choice, since Mr. Tumenov himself refused to give me any comments either, having referred to the pressure of work.”
“Okay, but you must wait until I make tea and then I will tell you everything that I can possibly know.”
For some minutes, Alexander silently was dawdling near the gas-stove, seemingly only pretending to be busy. Then, having waited for the first whistle of the teapot, he quickly removed it from the fire and began to fill, patiently, some vessel. After that, judging by the strange noise produced both by metal and wood, he cut something up and only then returned to his place on the sofa, holding a huge and a plentifully steaming mug in one of his hands and a big plate that was hiding its content in another one.
“I hope you do not mind all this?” asked Alexander only formally, preparing for a meal.
“Can I be anyway?” Victor wondered, “I am the guest here after all.”
But Alexander did not hear his guest’s answer; he only bit an enormous piece of a sandwich instead and generously washed it down with tea.
“You do not seem to understand the point,” having quickly chewed the food, he confusedly began the second part of the conversation. “What you are asking here is nothing but movies’ stuff. No one actually goes in certain places in strictly fixed days,” Alexander said with a strange face expression, which indicated either that he was lying or just talking without thinking.
“And here I am forced to point out one mistake of yours,” Victor objected and discontentedly rubbed his forehead trying to get rid of the headache. He saw the reason of its emergence in the excessive and unwonted activity that his brain
endured, having grown quite lazy lately. “Actually, people that are comfortably off very often adhere to a rigid schedule or, to put it more precisely, order of day. You see, such order allows them to develop the feeling of inner control over life; it gives an opportunity to control every single step and to exclude thereby any intervention from the outside. Of course, the total control is an illusion, but just try to live this way for a couple of years in a row and soon it will become for you the only one, not to mention that your explicit belief in its correctness will never raise any doubts.”
All this time Alexander was listening to the young speaker with enthusiasm, carefully chewing the remains of the tardy breakfast along with new knowledge.
“Well, it is obvious, but we are speaking about a woman now after all,” he suddenly broke into the conversation with the mouth full of food.
“By and large it changes nothing. A woman inevitably begins to copy the image of a man who takes the leading position in her life; gradually she starts adopting his mentality, his habits and so on. It is the nature, nothing can be done about it, unless, of course, there is the full realization of these laws and a firm intention to resist them,” Victor continued calmly.
“Well, I do not know. If you think you know it, I have no intention to argue. Nevertheless, Tumenov’s wife is definitely not among those women that copy anyone’s behavior. She is a very peculiar woman, freedom-loving, proud. She, undoubtedly, used to have some habits too, well, ordinary ones, you know? Going to cinema, listening to music, reading books and so on. For example, she used to love to go to that cinema in the center, well, near the monument. You must know it!”
“No, I am afraid I do not know it,” Victor answered shortly.
“Well,” Alexander made a helpless gesture summing up the result of the desperate status of the situation. “Well, as I said, she visited that movie theater back in the day.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, very likely, generally alone,” having drunk up tea, Alexander confirmed idly. “Sometimes with some friends from her work, but since they all are rather aged for the most part, well, you understand… You understand, don’t you?”
“I hope I do indeed,” Victor shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, what do you want from me anyway? What, in your opinion, I can tell you out of hand? Not to mention that this entire situation looks very strange, even wrong, if you like. Calling me and saying that a new detective is about to come, that I must stay at home and tell him, meaning you, of course, everything that I know. And why me, allow me to ask? Properly speaking, what so important do I know?” questions rushed out into the void one after another. “By the way, before I’ve forgotten!” Alexander suddenly got up from his place, crossed the room with two strides, and one moment later stretched to Victor an unknown object. “Here, it’s for you!”
“And what does this have to mean?” Victor asked mistrustfully, examining an unexpected gift.
“Why? Money, of course! What else would I give you?”
“And what is it for?” now Victor’s surprise grew even bigger; he tore his eyes away from the envelope and interrogatively fixed his unblinking gaze on the driver, having unintentionally set the latter laughing with this reaction.
“What for? Do you work for free, allow me to ask?” he burst out laughing with all his might.
“No, of course, not, but we have not managed to discuss an amount of payment yet. So how can I take it without knowing how much I am taking? By the way, how much is there?”
“Five grands!” the driver reported with confidence. “Though all this only according to the boss, I did not count it up. As I understood it, it’s an advance payment, for the initial period.”
“Then I will not count it, either,” Victor made a weary gesture, took the envelope, and put it away in an inside pocket. “I believe that’s all. Thanks Alexander, you’ve helped me very much.”
By this moment Victor’s dull headache grew into something bigger and was now torturing him without paying any attention to rubs or any other ridiculous attempts that he believed might help him to escape from this state. That is why he could think of nothing else except for returning back home.
“How so?” Alexander made an attempt to bridle up. “You did not even write down anything. What will I tell the boss?”
“You will tell him that you met me in the best way, treated me to tea, and narrated everything in all admissible details. As for me, in case of need, I will confirm all this with certainty, you may doubt not. And my special heartfelt gratitude for the recipe,” Victor smiled with a great effort, having extended his right hand.
“Don’t mention it!” answered Alexander and clasped Victor’s hand with his huge palm.
“But before I leave, would you mind giving me your phone number, so that I could call you if I need some assistance? As I understood from our conversation with Tumenov, I am going to report anything I will learn directly to you.”
Victor got his cell phone from a pocket, switched it on, once again received several confirmations about missed calls, but disregarded them just as he had done it before.
“That’s all!” he noted a telephone number and made his way towards the door, but suddenly stopped after making several short steps. “Will you see me off?”
“Is it necessary?” Alexander asked, surprised.
“You see, as far as I could notice when coming here, you have two Doberman pinschers there,” Victor reminded as if incidentally, hesitating in the doorway.
“Oh, you mean Cain and Abel? Believe me, there is no need to worry about those two, they will not bite you, unless you give them a reason to. The main thing is not to be afraid because dogs can feel it or something, you know. Just show them that you’re the alpha male and stride confidently toward the exit,” in the end, Alexander gave a cunning broad smile and disappeared in the room’s gloom again.
“To show that I am the alpha male?” Victor repeated to himself. “What a nonsense it must be!”
However, despite his quite reasonable anxiety, he crossed the yard without any incidents. The dogs were lying on the porch right next to the front door; they only darted a couple of angry looks at Victor but never moved a muscle thereafter.
“Probably, I’ve showed them who the alpha male is here,” Victor spitefully grinned over his unnecessary cowardice after appearing behind the gate.
The day was in full swing but already seemed to be coming to the end. The same was with his life; having scarcely managed to gather way, it was now standing motionless, but only for a moment, like an airplane that does not manage to loop the loop and starts falling down, picking up speed and inevitably reaching a pace that is even higher than the one that brought it to the top.
Victor’s thoughts were faceless, and his mood firmly set course for the habitual worsening. He was dragging himself to nowhere again, without knowing whether he was just stretching his legs, tired of the motionless position, or trying to delay his return back to the flat, although he could not wait to get back there quite recently. However, after twenty steps, made along the road, his phone rang out again, having made him forget about everything.
“Yes, Julia,” he answered the call without emotions.
“By gosh! Look who deigned to speak! You must have answered by accident?” a sonorous female voice reproached him sarcastically.
“Oh, please, spare me at least this time,” Victor asked quietly. “Have you ever asked yourself about how predictable your behaviour must look in such situations?”
“And you, mister know-all, have not you ever thought that someone might just be unable to mask the feelings in such situations?” the girl answered with a slightly shivering voice.
“Honestly, I honestly do not understand why you think you must make everything look this way, Julia,” Victor seemed to be already tired of the conversation that did not even start yet. “What do you want from me? I’ve already told everything. I need some time to reconsider things. I cannot return now and keep pret
ending that everything is all right. Was it my mother who asked you to call or you worry about me so much yourself?”
“You have no idea how worried she is!” the girl kept raising her voice. “Is it really so difficult to call and tell that everything is all right? How can it be so? Only one month ago, we were going to get married, and now you do your best to pretend that we are connected by nothing. I cannot believe it!”
“And I never thought before that I would become a laughingstock for my own family after revealing the greatest secret of my life. Everything that happens now is your fault, yours and no one else’s. I tried to leave everything behind, having shown you the person you were going to spend your life with. You know, I do not even want to speak about it; it is so disgusting that I simply have no words. What on earth I’ve done to deserve at least one single condemnation from anyone? Now you know that everything is fine with me! What’s next? Does not the simple solution straightforwardly indicate the problem’s insignificance?” Victor stopped and made a deep breath, staggering with exhaustion.
Now it was obvious that two sips of coffee, which he had taken about four hours ago, finally stopped providing him with energy.
“It’s not like this! Nobody accused you of nothing and there is definitely no one who derided you. You know, this all was not easy to accept. And how do you feel now after having gone and having all us left here?” Julia asked in an injured voice. “Please, come back to me, we will discuss everything and decide what we should do next. Do not shoulder all this on your own. Anyway, we are no strangers to each other.”
Victor remained silent in response. Just one short look, cast on him, was now enough to conclude that he was sorry about having begun this conversation, having started this stroll, having come to this part of the city and so on and on, up to the most extreme decisions, up to the very beginning of his life.
“Either way, you can tell my mother that everything is all right with me,” he said quickly and removed the phone from the ear, feeling hopeless.
The Superfluous Man Page 5
