Yes, of course. It is completely natural. Shall I prepare for a divorce?
Lyoshka, shame on you!
She sat down next to him on the couch, put her arms around his neck, and pressed her cheek on his shoulder.
Its work, Lyoshka. And nothing more. After so many years, Solovyov has no effect on me. Im a big girl now. And Im asking you please, dont worry about this. I could have hidden it from you, you know. You would have never learned. But I dont see why I shouldnt tell you. Solovyov means nothing to me now. Not a thing. The owner of a house where I must be regularly.
Alexei said nothing, gently caressing his wifes head.
What about him? Does he know that your visits are just work?
He went to the heart of it. Nastya snuggled closer. Try fooling someone like him. Of course, if Chistyakov hadnt been so smart, she would not have married him.
No, sweetheart, he doesnt know.
So, he sees you as a former lover?
Lyoshka!
Nastya, weve known each other for twenty years, so lets not kid each other and pick our words when were discussing important things. How did you explain your re-appearance to Solovyov?
Just as you think. I said that I wanted to make sure that I was over him. It was his birthday. I used that as an excuse to visit.
And, are you sure?
I am. Lyoshka, please, stop tormenting yourself. I knew that Solovyov was nothing to me a few years ago. I certainly didnt need to go to his house for that. But I needed an excuse.
Arent you worried that now that he isnt married, he might explode with passion for you?
No, Im not. If he couldnt love me then, he cant love me now. The world knows that the existence or absence of spouses has nothing to do with it. And then, I havent told you this yet. Hes an invalid. A cripple. Hes in a wheelchair.
An accident?
I dont know yet. He didnt want to talk about it, and I didnt push it. But I can find out without him, thats no problem. Lyoshka, lets forget it, what do you say? Dont make a mountain out of a molehill. You asked me why I didnt want dinner, and I told you that I had been at Solovyovs. Fine, lets move on. I could have told you I had been visiting somebody else, and you would have slept well. Dont think about Solovyov. I love you, I married you, and I plan to go on living with you until were little old people. Lets have some tea.
She got up and pulled her husband by the arm. Looking at his disheveled hair, she involuntarily compared him with Solovyov. Yes, Volodya was handsomer. And Lyoshkas eyes were never as warm and enchanting. His hazel eyes could be serious, sarcastic, mocking, openly ridiculing, or tenderly concerned. But Chistyakov didnt have that male sexuality in his gaze that made your knees turn to jelly and your head spin. Maybe thats why Nastya loved him, her red-haired mathematical genius. She couldnt stand studs men who were so sure that their sex appeal conquered all women, bending them to their will. Men who were certain that women were destined to have orgasms and bear children and that she had to obey the man who helped her or allowed her to fulfill her destiny.
* * *The guests had left, but Solovyov was still in his study. He had sent away Andrei, saying that he would put himself to bed. Anastasias visit had disconcerted him. He was ashamed of what had happened between them, and it was always unpleasant remembering it. And since it was so unpleasant, he didnt think about it.
He had never been a fighter, able to insist on what he thought was right and necessary. He always took the easy way, accepting circumstances rather than trying to change them to suit his desires and needs. Let things happen. Let things be. When he realized that the daughter of his advisor was madly in love with him, it was easier to let it happen, to have an unnecessary and burdensome affair with her, rather than take the trouble to gently move their relationship to friendship without hurting or wounding the young girl. He went with the flow, rather than against it.
Solovyov saw that she was suffering and he knew that he was the cause of her pain, first by letting her believe that he returned her love and then by not hiding the truth. But the consciousness of his guilt was a weight he preferred not to feel. Or remember. He managed to forget quite well.
Why was she here? To mock him? To enjoy the sight of his helplessness? But she no longer loved him, that was perfectly clear. However who knew. Just because she didnt get turned on from a single caress, didnt mean anything. She was older. How old did she say? Almost thirty-six. She had grown cold and rational. Even a bit cynical, he thought. And very lovely. She was better-looking now than she had been twelve years ago. She was still colorless and not very striking, using no make-up, but Solovyov appreciated the purity of lines of her face and figure. Long slender legs, a thin waist, high breasts, luxuriant hair, long and thick, graceful hands, strong cheekbones, straight nose. Women like that are for connoisseurs. You dont notice them, you could walk past them ten times and never see them, and only a sophisticated and discerning eye could appreciate their charms.
She was coming tomorrow. Did that make him happy or would he prefer that she not come again? Solovyov tried to understand his own feelings, but as usual, he did not have the persistence. It was so nice just going with the flow, let Anastasia come, let her love him again. It wouldnt be a burden this time, for his status as an invalid freed Solovyov of any obligations toward women. He was lonely, and a woman in love with him would not be amiss. Especially since he lived so far away that she couldnt come visit every day. Plus she was married. Well then, he thought, it was all for the best.
Chapter 3
Nastya patiently waited for a moment when Solovyov would be out. It was two days after her last visit, and as soon as she saw Andrei take the wheelchair outside and go off on a walk with Vladimir, she rang the doorbell of cottage number 12. Childrens voices responded instantly, the door was flung open, and a girl of about eight, covered with paints, appeared at the door.
Here to see us? the child demanded.
Yes, if youll let me in, Nastya replied with a smile.
Zhenya Yakimov appeared behind the young artist.
Is that you? he said in amazement. To see me? Actually, to see Solovyov, but hes not in and I thought you might give me shelter until he returns.
Theyre probably out for a walk, the long-mustached neighbor volunteered.
Nastya realized that he was about to suggest she go find them, even give her directions, since such walks couldnt be far-ranging.
Probably, she agreed. But my foot is killing me. I wore new shoes, and they hurt. May I come in?
Of course, of course, Zhenya said. Come on in.
This cottage was laid out in a completely different way. The kitchen was much larger and the rest of the first floor was taken up by a huge living room, where all three offspring were located twelve-year-old Mitya, who didnt resemble Zhenya in the least; the young art lover Lera; and a tiny creature with long reddish curls who upon closer examination turned out to be a boy named Fedya. Mitya was engrossed in a fascinating game with a computer opponent, while Lera, lying on the floor was trying to depict a Crocosaurus under the sensitive supervision of Fedya, serious beyond his years. This creature was the fruit of the boys boundless imagination, and he was explaining to his sister how it looked, using mimicry, gestures, and a wealth of noises from bellowing to squeaking. The computer was making a lot of noise, too, and Mitya played with a running commentary and exclamations. The living room was a bedlam. Zhenya introduced the children to Nastya and led her away to the kitchen, which thanks to its size and European design could easily function as a dining room.