21 A Happy Year
(1985)
In the fall of 1984, disaster befell Taisia—a disaster that became an unexpected boon for Nora. Taisia’s husband, Sergei, a quiet, henpecked man, left her. No one could have expected such an audacious step after such a long, harmonious, and uneventful marriage. He left her without warning or regret, having stuffed his pants and instruments into a gym bag. He did not intend to return. Taisia was still trying to recover her composure after her initial bitter indignation when her listless, indolent daughter, Lena, a student in her final year at the Agricultural Academy, announced that she was getting married to a classmate, an Argentinian exchange student, and leaving with him for Argentina. While they were going through the bureaucratic rigmarole that attended such a move, her daughter brought the pushover husband home to live with them. They settled into Taisia’s orphaned bedroom, and instead of Sergei, this disgusting “black-ass,” as Taisia referred to her son-in-law, now frolicked in her bed. Her sagging, unattractive Lena suddenly straightened out and bloomed, fully liberated from her indisputable dependence on her mother. Taisia, who had spent her whole life teaching quotidian domestic wisdom to young mothers, now witnessed the complete destruction of her personal universe. She came to Nora and, sobbing, recounted both stories. She ended by saying she couldn’t bear living under the same roof with a “black-ass.” What should she do?
Without even considering the new possibilities that would open for her, Nora invited Taisia to move in with her until the newlyweds moved away, and Taisia gladly accepted the invitation. They began reorganizing the household right then and there. They moved Nora’s desk into the room she called the “living room,” and covered the divan with her bedsheets. Grandmother Zinaida’s ancien-régime boatlike bed was put at Taisia’s disposal. When Yurik got home from school and discovered Taisia, whom he had always considered to be some close relative, in Nora’s room, he was delighted.
Not until that evening, when they were sitting over dinner together, did Nora realize that Taisia’s constant presence in her home offered her a freedom she had never even dreamed of. Taisia had immediately taken early retirement when she moved in with them, and now picking up Yurik from school and feeding him dinner had become her sacred duty. Nora paid her the difference between her pension and what she had earned at the polyclinic, and both of them were happy with the arrangement.
Nora didn’t manage to take advantage of the new opportunities right away, because, a couple of weeks after Taisia had moved in, Tengiz appeared again—without warning, without so much as a phone call.
They hadn’t seen each other in a year. Their last meeting, in Tbilisi, had been short and accidental. Nora had arrived in Tbilisi with a theater company to stage a play—a rather weak one, a detective story with a set that resembled the labyrinth of a child’s pocket maze puzzle. Nora had no intention of seeking out Tengiz. The unwritten rule of their relationship had never changed: they took it up again at any moment, in any place, that he wished; then he disappeared, as though he had never been. Nora had never taken the first step to contact him.
It was the first time Nora had ever been to Tbilisi, Tengiz’s city. In the evening, she left the hotel to take a walk through the unfamiliar town by herself. She walked along Rustaveli Avenue, then wandered into the oldest part of town, down a crooked, deserted lane. She kept expecting him to appear from around a corner, waving to her. She walked along, enjoying both the sights of the city and her own fearlessness. He didn’t appear from around a bend in the road or stepping out of a taxi; but his name popped up in a conversation the next day.
The director with whom she was working invited her to visit a local celebrity. They went in a large group to the dreary outskirts of Tbilisi, to a gray nine-story apartment building, where an Armenian artist about whom Nora had heard from some mutual friends lived. They were welcomed by someone who resembled a soothsayer or conjuror. She had a nose like a beak, and bright violet-plum eyes, and wore a strange, threadbare, dove-colored garment made of silk and some sort of intricate turban on her head. Nora immediately wanted to draw her.
Nora didn’t say a word, but looked at the paintings that covered every available space and stood three rows deep against the walls. It was impossible to know where the artist in her silks slept, because every surface was covered with easels, stretchers, pads of paper, and jars. Among all this painting paraphernalia was a small burner with two long-armed Turkish coffeepots and a few cups and saucers. There wasn’t a single hint of daily routine, of daily life, of a bed. All the paintings depicted imaginary mythological beings—fairy-tale beasts, snakes, goddesses, and virgins. Colorful Oriental madness, executed with great talent and skill. In the middle of the room, on an easel, stood a large portrait of Tengiz, very academic, painted with a strong hand, and without even a touch of whimsical Orientalism. He was looking out from under his brow. The artist had grasped some precise crease of the lips, and the coloring of the portrait was so accurate, heavy, and above the head it seemed there was an explosion of sky—a desperate blue … The portrait was large and as yet unfinished. Nora imagined she could even smell his homegrown country tobacco … He was just here, sitting for the portrait, she mused.
She spent the entire next day at the theater, but after the first act she slipped away with David, a sweet young Moscow-Georgian actor who had grown up in Tbilisi. They killed him in the first act, so by the second, when the plot was unfolding, he was already as free as a bird. They were good companions, and he offered to show her around town. First they went down to the Kura River, then walked along the embankment. When they got hungry, they stopped at the first little wine cellar cum restaurant they came to. There was some sort of celebration under way. One half of the rather small room was occupied by a long table, and at the head of the table sat Tengiz. Next to him was a large Georgian woman with a drooping lower lip, who looked like a Gypsy. They were celebrating Tengiz’s birthday.
He saw Nora and her companion as soon as they walked in. He stood up and announced: “Oh, we have guests from Moscow! Now, this is a real birthday present! Nora Ossetsky, my favorite artist! And her friend…” Tengiz faltered.
With a tender smile on her face, Nora said her friend’s name to fill in the awkward pause.
“Sit down, sit down!”
Nora and David sat down on the chairs they were offered. For an hour and a half, Nora sat as though onstage, in the midst of the happy din of the Georgian feast, after which she and David stood up to go, thanking them all for their hospitality. Then they left, holding hands like lovers. She felt heartsick—Tengiz might think that she had planned this.
They went to the hotel without talking. Nora had a private room, like a VIP; the actors were all assigned shared rooms. David stayed in her room until the morning. He was wonderful, very young and shy. And it was good that he stayed. He probably wouldn’t have if Nora had not invited him in. She had never discovered a better way of curing the wounds that Tengiz inflicted on her.
This time, Tengiz arrived with the words “You won’t chase me away?” He was carrying the same duffel bag, and under his arm he had a case with a guitar for Yurik: a nearly full-fledged instrument, three-quarters of the size of a grown-up’s guitar. Yurik grabbed hold of the instrument and immediately started strumming all six of the strings at once.
“Wait, we need to tune it first.” And they went off to Yurik’s room. Tengiz turned the tuning pegs deftly with his sensitive fingers and demonstrated the first five chords.
“Learn these chords and you’ll already be able to play something,” he said, and they strummed for a whole hour. With the movements of a sculptor, Tengiz arranged Yurik’s fingers on the strings, and he got results almost immediately.