Right after the end of this conversation, he found the phone number of that taxi driver who had brought him to Tumenov’s house and called him up.
“Hello!” the man answered in a resonant voice.
“This is Victor, could you pick me up where you left me?”
“What Victor? Where did you take my phone number anyway?” the taxi driver was virtually in the grip of fear.
“We talked about an hour ago,” Victor began to enumerate in a tired voice the details of their last conversation, which turned out not as remarkable as they initially seemed to be. “You told me I could call you if I needed.”
“Аh, that Victor, of course, of course, I remember,” the taxi driver began to hum, obviously feeling a sense of relief. “But I cannot do it right now, man, I am on the go since the morning, you understand. Let’s say in thirty minutes?”
“What? How? I mean… All right, forget it!” Victor hung up on him without waiting for an answer, then dialled up a short number of a taxi service, and in an hour already found himself in front of the main entrance of his house.
Here he distinctly recalled the old man whom he had unintentionally scared earlier this day; now the situation seemed to him ridiculous because of the fact that in reality, this encounter was not remarkable at all. In fact, it was the most ordinary, one of those that happen throughout life, and therefore any painful affects about these insignificant trifles, mistakes and examples of mutual misunderstanding would be nothing but conscious mockery of oneself.
Having reached the apartment, Victor felt even worse than he did before; he was virtually exhausted, the headache, which reminded of itself several times during the morning, was not now stopping even for a short moment, and in addition, hunger was so strong that could turn his stomach. After preparing something edible, first Victor tried to dull the hunger, then washed down his modest meal with a headache pill, and dropped on the sofa from tiredness, feeling absolutely wasted.
Victor did not remember the way and the time when this summer had begun, but at this moment, despite his terrible condition, he was dreaming of one thing only, he wanted this summer to never come to the end. And this particular dream, or at least a part of it, was going to come true, however, he was not aware of it yet; furthermore, he would very likely adopt a different opinion, had he been offered an opportunity to cast a furtive glance into the near future.
The time stopped by the evening and hence the rest of the day stretched for the distance of the eternity. Patiently waiting for the next morning that promised to him something truly interesting, Victor made an uncountable number of attempts to fall asleep. Hundreds of times he wrapped himself into the drowsy shroud, superficially failing into the darkness of his dreams, but exactly in the same way, hundreds of times, he escaped from this web, tormented with an obscure longing that was summoning him from the world of dreams to fulfill something very urgent and important. Thus the day was slowly getting torn to shreds from ten minutes to a half an hour, but never longer.
When there finally came another morning, the previous day no longer seemed as depressing as it did just yesterday; it seemed that every new day supplied Victor with a new set of feelings, subjective perceptions and, as a result, new thoughts. Only one thing was unalterable – his reminiscences of her, who unexpectedly became for him the only constant in this world that had sworn allegiance to inconstancy ages ago. Since the yesterday evening, there were the scenes of their meeting running in his head; the conversation that seemed to him so imperceptibly short now, was repeating before his eyes over and over again, endlessly. He fell asleep hearing her voice and woke up seeing her piercing look. He did not know practically anything about her yet, but this lack of awareness was what made her ideal in his eyes. Everything that was hidden from him, he willingly pictured himself, richly endowing her with the best qualities, in his estimation. By the morning he already sorted out hundreds of subjects for the forthcoming conversation, trained to perfection several possible answers seemingly for any of her counter-questions, and each such answer, in its turn, was meant to conduct her in the direction of other questions and thoughts, which Victor also managed to calculate.
This time everything had to be ideal. He had a substantial breakfast, left phone switched off so that nobody could distract him. Even his appearance that did not bother him for a long time, had to represent some originality this time, therefore he paid much more attention to such trifles as wrist-watch, dark sunglasses and shoes polished to gloss. His overall image had to distinctly indicate his interest towards the meeting, but he could not let her think that he was going to warm himself into her confidence by all means. He had to seem interested and indifferent equally, for exactly in this formula there was the secret of success.
Anticipating the long-awaited meeting, he went outside being partly a different person. This new morning he met no one in the entrance hall, the yard was also empty; there were no cars, no one loitered about the empty containers, no one walked dogs, and no one stood guard over balconies. The entire city seemed asleep and only Victor was vigorously walking in the direction of the café, which, to his deepest shock, was empty and closed. And only then, at the last moment, as is the custom, when an innocent joke suddenly turns into a nightmare for a person it is aimed at, Victor realized that it was Saturday. He was standing still and thinking about nothing, being filled with surrounding emptiness, slowly becoming its part.
Having stood like this several minutes with a lost look, he lowered his head and lagged back to where he had come from. Nevertheless, his today’s mistake was not his biggest grief now, for ahead there still was Sunday to outlive. These two days became for him one never-ending sadistic torture; he already did not even think of trying to fall asleep and only waited for the state of full exhaustion. For days on end, he, as if hypnotized, watched and re-watched all movies and programs that only caught his eye. Sometimes they greatly engrossed his attention, sometimes they virtually barbarized him, having caused states of extreme rage and even disgust towards everything he saw, however each previous state always gave place to another one and so forth. He made a few attempts to draw but found himself incapable of doing it because of being too anxious to succeed. He tried to write down some of his thoughts, attempting to bring them out of his personal infinite labyrinth with mobile walls, but fell at the first hurdle here as well because in reality, all his thoughts were solely about her. She was Victor’s labyrinth, which he scarcely knew and desperately needed to learn more, incomparably more.
On Sunday’s evening, he fell asleep after the midnight but shortly woke up again, surrounded with the pitch darkness. An electronic clock cast the time’s projection on one of the walls, but Victor could not make himself believe his own eyes; three red ciphers were saying it was the middle of the night with three hours until the morning. These last three hours before the dawn Victor spent reflecting on some dark thoughts, languishing. Along with two previous days these hours inevitably took away from him the last drops of vivacity of his spirit. Now he felt the exact same way as that morning shortly before their first meeting. At some moments, he could swear that it was the same morning, and when it happened so, he, as delirious, began waiting for the call regarding the meeting with Tumenov, then again attentively peered into the date without trusting his own eyes. The coffee still had the same disgusting taste, no matter what proportions of components he used, regardless of the temperature of water.
As a result, he left the apartment approximately at the same moment as he had done two days ago, being dressed in the same clothes, but having absolutely opposite thoughts. He was not worried about anything around him; only one tiny aim was in his head, and he was flying towards it like a thoughtless moth, seeing in it the only existent light source. She was where he longed to see her, beautiful, serious, and thoughtful. Everything was invariable and Victor was immensely glad about the fact.
“I could not think that you would appear before me in the same exact condition,” she bespoke to him, when he approac
hed the table at arm’s length.
“I could not think that you would be the same either, I thought there was no woman in this world who could be so charming two times in a row,” Victor shook his head with a hardly noticeable smile upon his face and sat down on a free chair.
“Thank you for the compliment,” Mariam accepted his words, having restrained, as it seemed to Victor, a good half of thoughts and emotions that he had managed to provoke her. “However, I would like to remind you that you’ve promised to refrain yourself from using your secret techniques.”
“But you were the first who deceived me, having broken thus your word!” Victor protested with a smile accompanied by a serious look. “We had come to an agreement with you of meeting on this very spot two days ago, but you did not appear. So tell me how can I keep my word if it was pledged in response to a rather cruel deception?”
Mariam could not find reasons to restrain herself again and gave one short but very lovely smile, having presented to him a gleam of hope that perhaps there was something more between them.
“I hope you did not really come here on Saturday. Frankly speaking, only in the evening I realized that I thought of Monday when we were talking with you about this meeting.”
“How could I fail coming?” Victor asked her indifferently as if there were no those painful days which he endured solely thanks to his thoughts about her. “I was standing right there in this hour and thinking of the compliment that I was going to present to you, paying you back in your own coin. By the way, talking about compliments, do you really think that a woman has to say words of gratitude in response to a compliment?”
“Of course, I do!” Mariam answered seriously. “Why not?”
But they were cut short by a waitress who brought for Mariam her order. At this moment Victor fell into a reverie and, looking at a cup of coffee and a small cake on a saucer, decided to ask her to illuminate a mystery of a local menu.
“Please, Mariam, would you mind telling me what you prefer drinking in the mornings?” he asked with interest. “What have you ordered today, for example?”
“Coffee,” she answered softly. “Can’t you see it? And where does this intense interest come from? Do not tell me that you are having certain intentions toward my coffee!” she added already with a smile.
“And what coffee is that exactly?” Victor continued.
“Black…”
“And that’s all? Sugar maybe?”
“No, just black coffee and nothing else, but why would it bother you so much?” she asked fondly.
“If it is possible, could I have a cup of black coffee too?” Victor hurried to make the order before the waitress was gone. “The thing is that,” he redirected his attention back to Mariam, “I’ve tried to define a taste that would be accepted by my taste sensors for a good while, but still have not had too much of success going this way.”
“It is very simple. You are in despair!”
“I am sorry, but what did you just say? In despair?” Victor did not believe his ears.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, please. It’s difficult to put it into words,” Mariam apologized, slowly dividing the small cake into tiny pieces. “I am not talking about your overall state. It’s simple: you are looking for a decision where it cannot be. You see, you cannot overcome the nature. And we all are but its part. If your body is tired of something, then you will not be able to force it to enjoy anything no matter how you strive, until it decides so itself. I am familiar with this state and that is why I am convinced that it is indispensable to follow the natural course as strictly as possible; you should never complicate simple things. Enjoy the moment, for it is the only thing we have in life.”
Victor was listening to her with rapt attention, so he failed noticing a moment when right in front of him appeared a cup of the steamy black coffee.
“If something comes to an end,” Mariam continued, painting the white saucer in the colour of the chocolate, “just let it go.”
“Even if it your own life?” Victor asked with evident grief in his voice and carefully took a small sip.
“You said it with such sorrow in your voice, as if you were on the brink of death,” Mariam commented shortly, without ever having tasted the cake.
“Oh, please, do not frighten me with such things,” Victor smiled, approvingly shaking his cup. “By the way, it is quite good. And what’s about yourself? Are you going to eat the cake?”
“You know, I was just giving the lecture to you about this need of following the natural course as strictly as possible, however I can scarcely say that I’ve used my own recommendation in practice,” making this confession Mariam completely got plunged in thoughts, from where she hardly could hear anyone, except for herself.
“If it is all about the cake, then I will save you this time, with pleasure,” Victor proposed, having completely changed his mood since the moment when he met her just ten minutes ago.
“I do not mind it at all!” Mariam inclined her head rightwards. “Do save me from it, Victor!” she answered almost whispering.
“I must say that your taste is very good,” he started praising her a few seconds later, washing down the chocolate cake with the black coffee. “But let us return to my question regarding compliments nevertheless.”
“Tell me, did you leave it behind on purpose in order to make me forget the point of the question and the mood reigning in that particular part of the conversation?” as if being bored, asked Mariam, having exhaled heavily.
“Why do you constantly try to see a dishonest trick in my words and acts?” Victor crossed one leg over the other and looked at her seriously, demanding answer.
“Probably, it happens because you constantly force me to question everything,” she answered sharply. “You do understand that it is nothing but a dispute based on subjective perceptions? And no matter how long we are going to continue it, we will never manage to define which of the two of us is right or at least is closer to the truth. So let’s just play by these rules instead of making useless attempts of rewriting them in a new way. What did you tell about compliments there?”
Victor hardly managed to follow her prompt and, in his opinion, almost indisputable thought, so having now nothing to add, he decided to return, obediently, to the subject supported already by both sides.
“I’ve wanted to know what forces you to say ‘thanks’ in response to a compliment.”
“To be honest, I’ve never particularly reflected on this question,” again, just like then, Mariam supported her head with one hand and shortly licked her lips. “However, I do not mind paying to this question a little of my attention now. First, the beauty, as you surely know, is not perceived by everybody to the same extent, so in this world there must be at least one person who will not share your opinion. Secondly, if you do not look for any benefit for yourself in these compliments, if you do not try to warm yourself into my confidence thereby, then I definitely have to be grateful, for it means that you absolutely sincerely try to please me. If all these conditions are not met, I do not lose much after having said to you a couple of simple words, whereas you, the person with allegedly bad intentions, irretrievably lose your chance to be on friendly terms with me.”
“You’re surprising me, Mariam,” Victor confessed, smiling rather awkwardly.
“And how exactly am I doing it?” she asked carefully.
“I had two arguments to prove my point of view, which comes down to the opinion that a lady should not thank for compliments. Nevertheless, you’ve not only managed to outstrip both of these arguments, but also used them against me. I firmly believe that you need to weaken a little your efforts at least in one direction. Because if you are going to keep filling with beauty and at the same time becoming even cleverer, then eventually such mere mortal as myself will finally lose even an elusive opportunity of approaching you with even the simplest questions.”
On the last word, Victor had again an attack of a sharp headache because of which he
abruptly became silent, and Mariam forgot all words immediately after him, without knowing what to say. For several long seconds the conversation was replaced by awkward silence that nobody could afford breaking.
“I hope I’ve not bored you with the chatter too much?” he said finally with rising intonation.
“You should not say this!” Mariam answered, seemingly indignant. “You should not be excessively kind with me. I believe I’m capable of reading characters pretty well, so I estimated your manners when we met for the very first time. You can believe me that if I only found anything inadmissible in your behaviour, then a straight farewell would be said to you unhesitatingly.”
“It is not about my manners,” Victor replied slowly, without looking at her, but at the same time trying to reproduce her image. “I simply do not want to be the only person of two of us who will be interested in this conversation. It is quite obvious already that we do not have very much in common. However, I want you to understand that I am possibly not so wealthy, perhaps my current appearance does not delight anybody, but I am not a futile person. I possess dignity and I have my own principles. I have everything what very many in this world have forever refused having long time ago.”
Victor suddenly broke off his majestic speech, but could not make himself get up that very second, apologize and leave away. Instead, he stayed where he was, sitting opposite her, waiting for her answer regardless of what she was going to say.
“Listen to me attentively, Victor!” having become straight in all respects and fixed on him a severe look, began Mariam, her lips clenched tight after each couple of words. “If on your place happened to be someone else, these words would be apprehended by me as a personal insult; I would drop the subject with this person and by all means I would do it in a way that would exclude emergence of any intentions to behave this way with anybody from now on. But you, for some reason, I am sure did not mean anything offensive, talking about distinctions between us.”
“Quite so!” Victor confirmed shortly.
The Superfluous Man Page 6
