Юлия Добровольская - The Lovers

Dina froze, staring at Konstantin Konstantinovich. He moved his gaze from the sparkling drop to Dina’s eyes and also froze. Then he carefully wiped away the drop, let Dina go and began folding up his handkerchief in fierce concentration.

Dina leaned against the dark glass window and watched the rain as it flashed in the light of the streetlamp.

Konstantin Konstantinovich, continuing to carefully fold up his handkerchief, spoke quietly. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

Dina didn’t reply at once. “So what stopped you?”

“For the first time, I was stopped by something that I’ve never experienced before.”

“What was it?”

“Well…” He kept turning the piece of fabric over and over in his hands. “Fear? No. Concern.”

“What were you concerned about?”

“I was afraid to offend you… to incur your displeasure.”

“Funny.”

“Indeed. Before today, I was sure that I knew female nature as well as I know my own five fingers. I was certain that I knew when and what women want. I always knew how I should act.” He smiled wryly. “I would never think to question whether I should kiss a woman or not. I knew that a woman must be kissed at every convenient… and even inconvenient opportunity.” He suddenly became serious and asked worriedly: “What if I had done it? Would you have…”

“I wouldn’t have run away,” said Dina. “And I wouldn’t have slapped you.”

Konstantin Konstantinovich chuckled and shook his head. After a brief pause, he asked, and she could hear the nervousness in his voice, “Can I try again?” He turned to Dina.

“Not anymore,” she replied calmly. “I don’t like men that I have to manage: You can do this, you can’t do that… Here comes my tram!” She turned up her collar and got ready to dash to the stop.

Konstantin Konstantinovich took her elbow and turned her to face him. “But we haven’t said goodbye or planned our next date.”

Dina said, a little sternly, “I’ll be late.”

“I’ll take you back in a taxi!” he suggested.

“The last thing I need is to appear at the dorms in a taxi, together with you!” Dina grinned.

“True,” Konstantin Konstantinovich laughed. “So when will we see each other again?”

“When I come back in a week. If you don’t change your mind by then.”

“Where and when?” He chose to ignore Dina’s last remark. “Can I call you? Tell me your number.” Konstantin Konstantinovich fumbled around in his breast pockets in search of a pen.

“We don’t have a telephone at home.”

“Good grief!” He looked at Dina in bafflement. “Does that still happen? Could you…”

“Don’t fret. I’ll come back and we can meet up again.”

“What date will that be?”

“The third.”

“The third!” Konstantin Konstantinovich exclaimed ruefully. “And what if it is the second? Or the fourth? Is it really possible? No telephone! Well, can you call me when you come back?” He started searching for a pen again.

Dina took a notebook and pen from her handbag and Konstantin Konstantinovich wrote his number on the open page.

A tram rumbled in the distance.

“Goodbye, Konstantin Konstantinovich,” said Dina and held out her hand.

He shook it and said, looking deep into her eyes, “Until next time, Dina. I will be waiting for your call.”

The room was dimly lit as the ceiling light was off, and only the table lamp stood on the table, with a newspaper covering the lampshade. Rimma was asleep, facing the wall and with the blanket pulled up over her head. Vera and Valya sat at the table with the books and notebooks spread out in front of them.

Both turned to Dina as one when she entered the room.

“Hi,” whispered Dina.

“Hi,” they answered in unison.

Dina changed clothes, took her toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bedside table drawer, and stepped out.

Vera pointedly tapped the glass of the alarm clock with her nail. The clock was showing five minutes past midnight.

Dina came back. She changed into a short silk robe, sat down on the bed and took from the bedside table a pharmacy jar containing a thick white cream, which she spread thickly over the face and hands. She leaned back onto her pillow and closed her eyes.

Vera’s loud whisper broke the silence. “How was the evening?” She asked.

“It was good,” Dina replied softly.

“Where did you go?”

“Have a care!” Rimma’s tense voice rang out. “It’s night already!”

“We’re not yelling so why are you?” Vera snapped back.

Dina said softly, “Sorry, Rimma, we’ll keep quiet.”

Rimma threw back the blanket, put on her robe, and grabbing her cigarettes from the dresser, left the room, slamming the door.

Vera decided that now they could talk openly, and turned to Dina. “Well, tell us, then!”

Dina said calmly, without moving, “I am not going to tell you anything. All you do is gossip and annoy other people. Don’t you feel sorry for Rimma?”

Vera turned away and pulled a face, but so that Dina could not see it.

The more simple Valya did not know how to react to Vera’s tricks, so she simply looked down at her notebook, although she kept glancing at the other two.

Vera couldn’t keep quiet and pounced on Dina again. “You’re such a good girl but you still paint your nails and bleach your face.”

Dina didn’t reply.

Vera kept going. “Good girls don’t doll themselves up.”

Dina replied coolly, without opening her eyes, “Chekhov said ‘Everything should be first-rate in a person, their face, clothes, soul and thoughts.’ Have you heard that before?”

Vera pulled a face again. “Gee, you know everything, Turbina.”

“Every person knows what they want to know… what they need to know.”

“Why don’t you go off and be an actress then, Turbina?”

“Why’s that?” Dina smiled.

“So that we would have a second Dina Durbin,” Vera pointed out. “Turbina! You were named after her, weren’t you?”

“Yes, after her, but I am no good at acting.”

“Oh! That’s right! You’re incapable of lying. In the movies, if you can’t lie, you can’t act.”

“You’re wrong. Playing a role does not mean lying,” said Dina and began removing the cream from her face using cotton wool.

Rimma came back in. “I don’t know what you’ve been saying behind my back…” She started.

Dina interrupted her gently. “Rimma, we know about everything that’s happened, but it doesn’t mean that you’ve stopped being our friend.”

Valya, who had glanced up in surprise at Dina, immediately looked down at her books again, while Vera sat frozen in shock.

“Personally, I feel very sorry for you, Rimma,” said Dina. “But I wish that you could just forget everything and start a new life… Well, not forget, but not repeat your past mistakes.”

Dina stood up from her bed, came up to Rimma, and hugged her. Rimma unexpectedly burst into tears. She awkwardly hugged Dina back and continued to sob loudly.

“We often think,” Dina said, “that the first man who pays attention to us, or the first one whom we fall in love with, is the perfect man for us. But it can’t be so, and isn’t always the case. The most important thing is to ask yourself: am I sure of him, of myself and of my feelings?”

Rimma had calmed down and sat on her bed, wiping her face with a towel. “Where did you learn all that from?” She asked Dina.

“From my mom,” Dina said.

“Did your mom say all that to you?” Rimma stared at her in surprise.

“No. My mom actually something completely different. But I saw her life and understood a bit more than just what I heard.”

Dina stretched out on the top bunk of the sleeper carriage. She had almost 24 hours of travel ahead of her, a day and a night. She would be home tomorrow evening.

Dina liked the road, no matter where it led: to the sea, to the pioneer camp, home, or back to school after the holidays. Yet for the first time in her life, she was boarding the train regretfully. But she couldn’t not go. Firstly, she had promised her mother, who had acquired some new clothes for her daughter for the summer. Secondly… secondly, the Inner Voice had told her, “Of course, you can cancel the trip,” It said. “Or leave tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow… But you should go today. Let the impressions settle, both yours and his.” The Inner Voice knew that Dina knew what it meant. “Don’t rush things. Calm down and let him calm down. A week is the perfect length of time to look at what happened more soberly. Hmmm? What do you think?”

“I agree,” said Dina and sighed a little sadly.

She went to the railway station and stood in line for the tickets, secretly hoping that there would be no tickets left. But there were tickets, although they were for the top lateral bunks. Which once again convinced her how right the Inner Voice was, which Dina had become accustomed to trusting unconditionally – Dina suspected that when this mysterious Someone gave her advice, he knew that it would turn out just as he had suggested. Or maybe he arranged it all himself… just the way Dina needed, always what was best for Dina… It was a daring assumption: You don’t honestly think that everyone and everything revolves around you and your interests! Well, why not, thought Dina, I certainly hope that I am not getting all this at the expense of someone else.

Dina paid for the ticket and boarded the train.

She stretched out on her bunk and timidly asked her Inner Voice:

“Can I at least think about him?”

“Of course! Of course you can think about him!” replied her trusty counselor. “The more, the better! Go over every word, every gesture… analyze what you liked and what you don’t like about him.”

Dina was overjoyed to hear this response, so the first thing she did was take out her notebook, open it at the right page and let her eyes roam over the letters KK, the telephone number, and the small heart drawn beside it. She pressed the page to her lips and sent a mental hello to the hand that had left this precious memento of the long day, which had started at eight in the morning at the exam and finished after midnight, when she had returned to her dorm room.

Dina remembered the touch of this hand on hers. And the way this hand lay on her back for a long, endlessly long time… when they danced to the Moonstone… and then briefly, but firmly pressed Dina to him…

Konstantin Konstantinovich. What would be a more affectionate name? Kostenka… My darling Kostenka… Kostyusha… Kostik. Kotik… Or simply “my darling.”

No, all this made her head spin.

The way he looked at her knees. No, the way he looked into her eyes. Yes, eyes are much better. He sat so close to her there, in the cinema, and looked at her. Then she had turned to him, and his face was so close… His eyes sparkled and his slightly parted lips were smiling. And later, he wanted to kiss her… His face was so close again, close enough to cup his face with her hands and press her lips to his forehead, cheeks, his lips… touch her lips to his…

“Can I think about this?” Dina asked, embarrassed that she first imagined it all and only then asked for permission.

“Yes, yes,” grinned the Inner Voice. “You can think about whatever you want if it’s love.”

“Well,” Dina said. “It is love.”

“Just remember that this is about your love,” said the Inner Voice, emphasizing the word your , “you don’t yet know anything about his feelings. Right?”