A Young Scoundrel Read online

  Auntie Dusya brings them their snacks, vodka, lemonade and, for each of them, a sizzling-hot frying pan full of fried eggs. Genka gazes with pleasure at the heavily-laden table. With one hand he raises the wine-glass of vodka, and with the other his glass of lemonade. "Come on, Ed! – Let's drink to this magnificent August day, and to the animals of our beloved Zoo!"

  "Right!" agrees Ed, and they gulp down the burning vodka. And instantly start drinking the lemonade. And grab the pickled cucumbers and eat the fried eggs, burning themselves…

  * * *

  "Well, Ed, did you get a good scolding from Celia Yakovlyevna yesterday?" Genka has decided to take a break for a smoke, disengaging himself for the purpose from what's left of his eggs.

  "I swear to God, I'm fucked if I can remember!" laughs the poet. "I remember getting out of a taxi, and grabbing the doorknob, and then… it all goes blank, I can't remember a thing. What time was it, anyway? Two o'clock?"

  "What do you mean, two? It was still early. You passed out early last night. But Fima and I carried on drinking at the airport.

  "No way I passed out." The poet is offended. "I hadn't slept at all the night before, I was writing til dawn. Of course you're going to be tired after a whole night without sleep. You yourself threw up yesterday."

  "I throw up a lot." agrees Gyenka calmly. "That's how the Romans did it. They'd throw up, then come back and drink some more."

  "That Celia Yakovlyevna caught me right at the door. 'And where are you going,' she says, 'Eduard?'"

  "And what did you say to her, Eduard Venyaminovich?"

  "Out for some thread, Celia Yakovlyevna, I'm going to the store.' With my shoes in my hands. I wanted to get out without being heard."

  "For some thread!" guffaws Genka. "Limonov went out to buy some thread!"

  "Naturally Celia didn't believe me. But how is an intellectual woman going to argue with her Russian son-in-law? 'Then how come you've got your shoes in your hand, you drunk, if you're going for some thread? It's not a criminal activity, going for thread… '"

  "She'd be ashamed to catch you in a lie. That's what comes of culture and education. A Russian mother-in-law would storm through the whole building, tear your sleeve off, dragging you back inside. It's a good thing you're living with a Jewish family… and Anna?"

  "Yesterday Anna slept – and snored. She just opened her eyes and said, 'You got drunk with Genka again, you damned alcoholic!' and went back to sleep. And today I slept, once she went out."

  "You need to get Anna some kind of gift." Genka frowns. "Ed, heading toward us are the first representatives of the goat-herd, who have already completed their morning excursion to the Zoo."

  A family is coming to the "Tavern." Two children – boys of around ten – dressed, in spite of the heat, in blue wool thermal pants. The pants are too long; the cuffs, dragging on the ground, are gray with dust. The mother is powerfully built, surprisingly old for a mother with children of this age. Her hands and feet stick out awkwardly from her too-tight, too-short, white-and-blue polka-dotted dress. The father – who undoubtedly works in one of the many factories in Kharkov – is wearing a fake-silk yellow shirt and black trousers, sandals over bare feet, and carries in his hand a string bag. and in it something covered with torn-up and, for some reason, wet newspaper.

  The morose children are the first up the steps. The mother after them. Having helped them climb onto the veranda, the father puts his foot on the first step. Genka stands up and sraightening his tie, assumes a stern look: "Comrades, comrades, entry prohibited! The restaurant is closed to the public today. Today is the All-Soviet-Union Convention of Bengal-Tiger trainers. Entry restricted to those with letters of invitation!"

  The family leaves silently and submissively, dragging their string bag behind them. Ed even begins to pity the goat-herd family. "Why'd you do that to them?" he asks his friend. "Hell, they'd've drunk their lemonade, taken some sandwiches, and gone…"

  "There's always noise from the goat-herd, Ed. Did you direct your attention to the children? Like little old men. Can you imagine how they would have gobbled, chomped?"

  "You can't get rid of all of them… Now somebody else will show up."

  "Dusya, please place on all the tables on our side of the restaurant a "Reserved" sign."

  "Oh, Genochka, we don't have any signs like that!" whines Dusya. From beneath her feet, a big green grasshopper suddenly leaps, landing on the next table. This is the countryside; what do they know about signs? There's not even a toilet; visitors run to the ravine.

  "In that case, write 'Reserved' on some pieces of paper, and put them on each table. Of course, your labor will be compensated."

  Dusya goes off to obey her orders. Her obedience is explained not only by the fact that Genka passes her a five-ruble or ten-ruble note as she leaves, but by the fact that the little Zoo restaurant belongs to the restaurant network of his Papa, Sergei Sergeevich, and in this network Papa is Tsar, Papa is God. True, Papa has sternly forbidden Gennadii to abuse his official position to get better treatment, but the power-hungry Genka can't resist the temptation to "abuse" it. Power – that's what Genka loves, Ed suddenly realizes. Power is Genka's ambition. Genka wants to brandish enormous power.

  "Genka, why don't you join the Party and become an important man – say, District Administrator?"

  "Are you kidding, Ed? That's so fucking depressing – making a career as a communist. It's bad enough that it ruined most of my dad's life – crawling on his knees."

  Even the fact that Genya swore testifies to his aversion to a Communist career. Genka is indifferent to ideology, Genka has no political views. What Genka wants from life is the "high": pleasure, adventure, romance. And what kind of "high" is there in wearing a hole in your trousers sitting at Party meetings? Genka's favorite film is "The Adventurers" with Alain Delon and Lena Ventura in starring roles. That's what Genka loves – treasure-hunting, gunfights, expensive restaurants, crystal, cognac, candlelight, champagne… Ed remembers Genka's dilated pupils after the film. They watched "The Adventurers" twice – Genka, Nonna, as beautiful as Genka, and Ed. Genka is as handsome as Alain Delon, "The Beautiful One," Bakhchanyan calls him. He's blond, six feet tall, light-blue eyes, a straight nose, a noble bearing. After "The Adventurers," they drank and wandered around for a few days, and were arrested one night on the runway-area of the Kharkov Airport while trying to get into a jet transport. What they wanted on the jet will remain an insoluble mystery, but it is worth noting that "The Adventurers" begins with Alain Delon flying through the Arc de Triomphe.

  "Let's do it, Ed!"

  "Let's do it." Ed looks fondly at his friend.

  Chapter 3

  "They're drinking, the scoundrels!"

  Anna Moiseevna has appeared at the very moment when Dusya had refilled the young men's wineglasses. She is standing on the grass by the veranda, her bright eyes angry. Her robust body is covered by a crepe-de-chine dress. There are green, black and white flowers on Anna's body. She has a purse in her hand. Her graying hair is tied back in a tight chignon. Her turned-up nose gives her face a pert look.

  "Ganna Miseyevna!" The idlers call out amiably. "Come over here and have some chicken kiev with us!"

  "Scoundrels! Aren't you ashamed! Drinking vodka since early in the morning!" scolds Anna, but she goes around the edge of the veranda and up the staircase. A few representatives of the Proletariat, who have forced their way onto the veranda, stare inquisitively at the scene.

  "You scoundrel! Deceiving Celia Yakovlevna, a poor Jewish woman, yet again! 'He went for some thread!' The simplehearted Celia Yakovlevna, child of another era – the angel who married my father… Celia Yakovlevna doesn't know what it is to lie! She trustingly believed that absurdity! 'For some thread, he went'!

  "Fine – hit me! Give me a slap in the face!" The poet melodramatically turns his profile to his girlfriend and offers his cheek.

  Gennadii Sergeevich becomes elegantly cordial.

  "Pardon us, Ganna Moisyevna
, for the love of God, and be kind enough to share this humble meal with us!" Genka takes Anna's hand and kisses it. Then, without releasing her hand, with his free hand he shifts the table and eases Anna into place at the table. Though she is still angry, she sits down.

  "Dusya – please, set a place for Anna Moiseyevna… Anna Moiseyevna, it's my fault that your husband is here. Finding myself feeling somewhat lonely and depressed this morning, I deceitfully lured Ed away from his family, heedlessly seeking only personal and egotistical self-satisfaction…"

  "The poor Jewish woman…" Anna Moiseyevna starts up her usual dramatic monologue, but provokes no reaction on the faces of Genka or the poet… "I ran right home… not a crumb in the house… 'Eduard went off to get some thread,' Mama announced, bewildered… 'He went off at nine o'clock, Mama!' I said, 'It's eleven o'clock – he went off drinking!' 'No… maybe he'll come back?' timidly suggested Celia Yakovlyevna, still believing in you…" Anna stared angrily at the poet. He bowed his head humbly, and Genka gestured to him with his eyes and his hands, "Just put up with it. Let her talk."

  "You didn't even leave the poor Jewish woman a ruble for food, you scoundrel!" Anna continues, "Meanwhile, we've spent all of her pension. I don't have any money – you know perfectly well I don't get anything in advance… after the account showed a gigantic overdraft, Gennadii" – Anna appeals to Genka. Genka nods sympathetically. "There was some hope that the young scoundrel would finish Tsintsiper's pants today and get ten rubles for them, and Celia Yakovlyevna could go down to Blagovyeshchenskii market and get some food… But the young scoundrel ran off…"

  "Ganna Miseyevna," says Genka quickly, while Anna gathers her strength for the next part of the monologue, "Be be good enough to accept from me a humble offering" – he takes a tenner from his wallet and pushes it toward Anna.

  "We don't need your money, Gennadii Sergeyevich," proudly declares Anna, who nonetheless looks at the tenner with some interest.

  "Take it, Ganna Miseyevna! After all, it was I who took Ed out into the countryside, away from Tsintsiper's pants! It follows that I should pay the forfeit."

  "What?" Anna Moiseyevna stares questioningly at the poet. "Well, I'll take it… After all, we have nothing. Not so much as a crumb in the house."

  "Don't you dare…" spits out the poet. He curses himself for neglecting to leave Celia Yakovlyevna at least five out of the fifteen rubles left. Now Anna has the right to lecture him on morality and call him a young scoundrel. Normally Anna's a little scared of her poet, although she's six years older than he is. And weighs perhaps twice as much as the poet.

  "Take it! You'll use it somehow or other!" With the help of an agile motion, the tenner ends up in Anna Moiseyevna's hand, and, from there, disappears into her purse.

  "Have a drink, Anna Moiseyevna, a little vodka!" Genka himself pours Anna a glass, out of the bottle of Stolichnaya Dusya left with them the last time. "Have a drink and forget your cares!"

  Anna can no longer resist; she smiles. "Scoundrel, you've been drinking for three days! And never once thought of the poor Jewish woman, wasting away in a newspaper kiosk. You could at least have taken the time to invite the Jewish woman to the restaurant." Anna frowns and sips carefully at the vodka, unlike Genka and the poet.

  "How in the world did you find us, Anna Moiseyevna?" Genka doesn't hide his pleasure and delight. He likes it when things happen. They've already gotten a bit bored, just the two of them making small talk; but now, voila, an unexpected appearance by Anna Moiseyevna.

  "Genulik!" Anna looks at Genka with undisguised condescension. "Everybody knows that you and the young scoundrel are the only ones in the whole city with chocolate-colored suits with gold thread. First I went to the "Theater Club" and they told me they'd seen you this morning going down Sumsky street. I went to the "Lux," and you weren't there. You weren't at the "Three Musketeers," either. I ran around to all your hangouts, and at the "Automatic," Mark told me that the young scoundrel, accompanied by you, Gennadii Sergeevich, had gone down into Shyevchenko Park. 'Where would people like you go, at this time of the year, when Nature is unbelievably flourishing, and the chesnuts are ripe, and the smell of flowers fills the air, and the world is making love endlessly?' I asked myself. Anna Moiseyevna sighs. Elaborate oratory is her weakness. Very often she inserts in her speech verses by living or deceased poets. "'People like Genulik and the young scoundrel can only go to the "Tavern," and Dusya.' I said to myself, and came running here. Anna Moiseyevna has stopped, pleased with herself. "And here, if you please, I am. I'm not going to work!" She announces, after looking at her little watch."What's the point!" she exclaims, staring defiantly at her "husband." "I'll tell them I got sick."

  "You could be the Sherlock Holmes of the KGB, Anna Moiseyevna," Genka says approvingly. "Yes indeed."

  "Lyonka Ivanov says Sherlock Holmes was a cocaine addict. That in between cases, he snorted cocaine." observes the poet, after gulping some vodka.

  "Lyonka Ivanov is a meshugginah," Anna declares authoritatively. "They even kicked him out of the Army for being a meshugginah."

  "No way. Lyonka himself wanted to get out of the Army. When Lyonka came home on leave, already a sergeant, Viktorushka taught him what to do. The smartest thing is to pretend to be crazy. Viktor told Lyonka, and when Lyonka returned to his unit, he did exactly what Viktor suggested. At lunch time he went to the cafeteria, put a bowl of porridge on his head, stuck cutlets under his sergeant's epaulettes, and in this costume went running out of the dining hall… another time he went into the hall where the soldiers were watching a film and ripped the screen off the wall… but all just so he could get home; actually Lyonka's saner than me or Genka," Ed ends his apologia for Ivanov.

  "Ed, I think Anna's right; Lyonchik Ivanov really is crazy." disagrees Genka. "Not dangerous, but pretty brainless. Have you noticed his expression?"

  "Oh – then who's sane? Is Ganna Miseyevna sane?" Ed laughs scornfully.

  "I tried to do away with myself once. But you, Ed – lots of times!" Anna almost shouts, leaping out of her chair. "It's true, I was classified as a Group One invalid by reason of craziness, but I was nineteen, and that son of a bitch, my first husband, had dumped me. When you were nineteen, you still believed in people!" Anna Moiseyevna, having lost her aggressive look, and aware of the goat heard, sits down.

  "The hell with him, with Ivanov…" Genka says to them soothingly. Let's drink to you, Anna Moiseyevna, and to you, Eduard Venyaminovich, and to your union. May it be long and enduring!"

  "To our cohabitation! To our unlicensed union!" laughs Anna. "To our situation! You know, Genulik, when the young scoundrel was already living with me in my room, but we were trying to make it look like we weren't living together… I would slam the door loudly at night, to deceive my poor Mama… so that when my Auntie Ginda suggested that we come visit her in a little room with two roommates, even that was an improvement in our material life. The intellectual Celia Yakovlyevna couldn't admit to the sister of her beloved deceased husband that her daughter was keeping in her room a boy six years younger than she, and sleeping with him. 'Akh, Ginda, we have such a situation at home!' that's all my Mama would say. How unlucky she's been in life. Papa Moise died of a heart attack, and her daughters have never found a decent life…"

  "What? Her second daughter is married to the director of a factory. She lives in Kiev, right on the main street – on Kreshatik, in a big bourgeois apartment. People dream of a son-in-law like Teodor. The director of a factory…"

  "My kid sister is in a good situation, ____________________]dazhe toshno]," agrees Anna Moiseyevna, taking a tidbit of cucumber, "but my niece, Styelka, is a whore. And she's sure to become an even bigger whore. Already she sleeps with any loser who comes along. Gyenulik, this long-legged Styekla keeps an eye out for every prick around, the kid had her first abortion at age 14! I only lost my virginity at 18…

  Genka laughs. "Different times, different customs, Anna Moiseyevna!"

  "'O, Lautrec, you will never
reach the pedals!'" Anna suddenly recites. "'O Lautrec… ____________________/'" Anna falls silent, having forgotten the next line, as usual.

  "Whose is that?" Genka asks respectfully. He considers Anna an intelligent and well-educated woman.

  "Miloslavskii. From his early poems." mumbles Ed. "Yura poses, frenchifies, and nasalizes. He invokes the romantic underground life of the Parisian cafe and studio. Lautrec…"

  "'Yet still I remembered how all these Magdalenes mended the cloak of the pockmarked Christ…" Glancing insolently at her "husband," Anna once again recites Miloslavskii. And, of course, she can't remember the last lines. "Three Bandits with Aphrodite by the Fire," she manages to force out, and then falls silent.

  Anna's memory is stuffed with bits of poems, songs, which she heard some time, or clever phrases she read somewhere, from various philosophers and writers. From time to time Anna brings to light some fragment, line, verse or phrase, and inserts it in the appropriate part of her monologue. When they were just getting to know each other, in their youth on the outskirts of Kharkov, straight from the "Hammer and Sickle" shop section, Anna's erudition seemed the height of intellectual achievement. Now, Eduard, having become Limonov, laughs at Anna's "streams of consciousness." He uses her singsong intonation, imitating the pompous Romanticism with which, it seems to him, Anna recites poetry: