Юлия Добровольская - The Lovers

Dina stood and watched the evening city, the people walking along the street, the traffic lights switching over briskly and cheerfully, and seemed to be thinking of nothing at all. That is, she was not thinking of anything in particular, her thoughts appearing out of nowhere and disappearing amongst the waves of emotion that came forth from the depths of her being… It was hard to describe the feeling exactly.

Dina had felt something similar when she saw her name on the list of people, who were accepted into university.

She was happy, of course. All that stressful preparation, all those sleepless nights, and the worry before each exam – what kind of question will she get? – and afterwards – what score did the Committee give her, will it be enough to pass?

But together with the satisfaction and excitement, she also felt lost before this independent new life, waiting for her in a strange big city. She would no longer have her mother beside her, to wake Dina up on time, to make food, to remind Dina about lessons and clothes… Plus her doubts about whether she had chosen the right future profession, since all that she knew about it was just the cover of a book, speaking nothing of its content, or only mentioning it superficially. It was the understanding that she had made a very important step, and that to cancel it would require not less but maybe even more effort.

She felt happiness, doubt, bewilderment…

Same as now… Of course, many girls would have given anything to be in her place. But is this what Dina wanted? And then what?

She felt happiness, doubt, bewilderment…

Yes, she liked Konstantin Konstantinovich.

Not only as an outstanding teacher: even the less diligent students left his classes, be they lectures or seminars, with much reluctance.

Not only because of his captivating appearance. Despite his eye-catching looks, there was something elusive in his manner, like patina on the surface of polished silver, which gave this external glimmer a hint of nobility.

It was not only Konstantin Konstantinovich’s sense of humor that Dina liked: if he was telling an anecdote or making a joke, it was a clever and subtle one, and he never allowed himself any slimy ambiguity that some of the other teachers employed in the hope of being treated as “one of the boys” by the students.

It was not only his erudition, which he did not use to show off but strictly for its intended purpose, to expand his students’ horizons.

Dina liked Konstantin Konstantinovich. Yet she would have never thought of dreaming about him as a close friend. Even more so, as a man.

Then why was she here? She had been invited to the movies. She had been invited on a date for the first time in her life. Not just by anyone, not a classmate or even an older student.

What if it was a joke? Perhaps he invited her and was now watching from some hiding place to see if she would come, like a complete bimbo. Or he decided to have a little fun: I’ll go with an ugly girl to the movies for a change, and she’ll think that I’m in love with her…

“Whatever it may be, I’ve come tonight,” thought Dina, glanced at her watch again and resolutely left the vestibule.

Dina saw Konstantin Konstantinovich almost immediately. He stood apart from the crowd that milled around the ticket office and the entrance to the cinema. More precisely, he was walking back and forth, glancing around him. One could even say that he was glancing around nervously or perhaps eagerly.

He noticed Dina when she was about ten steps away, and immediately walked forward to meet her.

Konstantin Konstantinovich moved so eagerly in Dina’s direction that they nearly collided. Dina had to stop suddenly to prevent this.

“So punctual!” Konstantin Konstantinovich said excitedly, stretching his hand out to Dina. “You ought to have delayed for five to ten minutes longer.”

Dina also extended her hand, which he shook jerkily but firmly.

“You think so? Why?” She asked, staring at Konstantin Konstantinovich with unfeigned surprise.

“Well,” he smiled in mild embarrassment, “to make me worry a little about whether you were coming or not.”

“I shall have to disappoint you, Konstantin Konstantinovich, but that is not my style.”

“How interesting.” He looked at Dina seriously, but the embarrassment and fluster remained, barely hidden by his smile. “Could we continue with this topic after a short discussion regarding a burning question?”

“I’m listening,” said Dina.

“We can go to the movies, or we can go to the cafe. Hmm… We can also go to the movies and then the cafe.”

“The third option, if you don’t mind.”

Konstantin Konstantinovich laughed and looked at his student even more carefully. He took the tickets out of his chest pocket and taking Dina smoothly under his arm, headed to the entrance.

“We have ten minutes to go to the snack bar. Would you like anything to eat?” he asked.

“No, thank you, I’m full,” replied Dina. “But if you’d like…”

Konstantin Konstantinovich smiled. “I’m full too. Besides, we have dinner waiting for us afterwards. You have nothing against the Rainbow?”

“No, nothing,” said Dina.

What else could she have said? Students like Dina, who lived on a study allowance, did not frequent cafes and restaurants, unless it was for someone’s birthday when they all chipped in, or for a classmate’s wedding, which were occurring more and more often towards the end of university.

They walked to their seats at the very center of the room. Konstantin Konstantinovich pulled down the seat for Dina and sat down himself. He sat, almost facing Dina, and looked at her with a smile.

“So, we had stopped on your style. You believe that a woman must be punctual and true to her word?”

“I believe that everyone should be punctual and true to their word,” replied Dina, staring straight ahead.

She observed the people passing by, the new, painted curtain that had replaced the old plush fabric, and the stylish lamps, for the cinema had reopened only recently after renovations.

“How about female weaknesses and foibles?” Persisted Konstantin Konstantinovich.

“Well, to each his own, I guess.”

“You don’t like it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“What do you like, then?”

“Me? Naturalness.”

“And directness.”

“And directness.”

“So, is it possible to live like this?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it difficult?”

“On the contrary, it’s very easy.”

“Really?” her teacher asked, still smiling.

Then the lights grew dimmer, and the noise from spectators, getting comfortable and hurrying to find their seat, grew louder. Dina’s companion leaned close to her ear and whispered:

“You have roused my curiosity. May we continue this conversation later?”

Dina turned towards him. The cinema screen began to glow. Her teacher’s face was very close in the gathering darkness and looked especially striking – the symmetrical, strong facial features were emphasized by the light falling from one side and reflecting in his eyes, as well as the very attentive but gentle and thrilling gaze, and the slightly parted, smiling lips.

“We may,” said Dina and turned back to the screen, but she could see Konstantin Konstantinovich watching her, out of the corner of her eye.

She calmly met his gaze. He smiled again, then turned to face the screen.

They reached the doors to the Rainbow Cafe by squeezing through a large crowd wishing to get inside. It was the most popular cafe among young intellectuals, and it always had live music and a lack of free seats.

Even when the crowd realized that these two were not rudely skipping the line but that the doorman had gestured at them in welcome, perhaps as they had reserved a table or for another reason, the desperate crowd did not deign to part and let the lucky pair through.

Dina and Konstantin Konstantinovich approached the cloak room, and he took the lady’s coat, then took off his own and handed them to the attendant.

Dina was fixing her hair in front of the mirror, and saw her teacher approaching and adjusting his thick, wavy black hair, running first one hand and then the other through them like a comb, and smoothing his jacket. Yet he was looking at Dina as he performed all these actions.

Dina turned to Konstantin Konstantinovich. “You were so sure that I would come with you to the cafe?”

He smiled and said, trying to sound playful, “No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t even sure if you would come at all.”

“But you bought the tickets and reserved a table at the café… I suppose you could sell the tickets to someone else, but the cafe doesn’t refund the deposit.”

Still smiling, Konstantin Konstantinovich looked down. “If you had not come, nothing else would have upset me further.” He glanced up again. “To hell with the money that I would have lost.”

Dina noted again how changeable this man’s face was, and how such a simple movement of facial muscles could create so many different smiles.

She stared at her teacher in silence, as if trying to discern if he was telling the truth or just prattling.

It appeared that Konstantin Konstantinovich did not know the answer himself. His face showed a mixture of curiosity about his remarkable student, whom he had known for three years and yet, as it suddenly turned out, he did not know at all, and disconcertion before her disarming frankness, as well as tension caused by his desire to not lose this mask of a frivolous fop, and the fear that it was the mask that would repulse this girl, who refused to play games and talk insincerities.

They were shown to the only free table, which stood in the prime location with a Reserved sign, by the huge window that revealed the glowing lights of the city. The table was also a good place from where to see the stage with a five-person vocal-instrumental ensemble.

Dina sat down on the chair that Konstantin Konstantinovich had pulled out for her. He sat opposite, continuing to observe his companion with unconcealed interest.

An elegant, sharply dressed man approached the table.

Seeing him, Konstantin Konstantinovich stood up and extended his hand:

“Hello, Misha! Let me introduce you: Dina… Dina Alexandrovna. Mikhail Anatolievich.”

“Good evening. Pleased to meet you,” said Mikhail Anatolievich, then quietly asked Konstantin Konstantinovich, “Any special requests?”

“I’ll find you if anything,” he replied.

“Certainly. Enjoy your evening.” Mikhail Anatolievich nodded to Dina and walked away.

Konstantin Konstantinovich lit the candle in the clear red holder and looked at Dina in embarrassment. “I am currently feeling an overwhelming urge to tell the truth.” He beamed another one of his numerous expressive smiles and dropped his gaze. “I didn’t pay a deposit… my friend, my old classmate, works here as the manager.” He nodded in the direction of the departed Mikhail Anatolievich, and looked at Dina. “Misha, I mean… Thus, this table is always mine.”

“Do you have a friend managing the cinema too?” Smiled Dina.

Konstantin Konstantinovich laughed with relief, finally sensing his companion’s joking tone. “No, I bought the tickets myself. Half an hour before you came.”

“I’ll say this straight up: I can pay for the ticket and dinner myself. Which I will do a bit later, so that I don’t put you in an awkward position,” Dina said quietly but firmly.