The father thought about what to do. He couldn't go downstairs, wasn't allowed to call. Around him were strangers and busy ones. He thought about what his two women must be feeling, his «girls», as he called his wife and his mother-in-law. His heart was throbbing. He was given an IV, just like his daughter.
Then he fell asleep, and when he awoke, his daughter was gone.
«Nurse, where is the girl who was lying here?»
«Why do you ask?»
«I'm her father, see? Where is she?»
«She's in surgery. Don't worry and don't get up. You shouldn't.»
«What's wrong with her?»
«I don't know.»
«Dear girl, please call a doctor!»
«They're all busy.»
An old man moaned. In the next room the young doctor was doing some operation on an old lady and was speaking to her loudly like to the village idiot, trying to humor her.
«Well, granny, want some soup? (pause) What kind of soup do you want?»
«Mmmm,» mumbled the old lady in a tinny, non-human voice.
«How about meatball soup? (pause) Want some meatball soup? Did you ever try soup with meatballs?»
Suddenly, the old lady answered in her tinny bass.
«Meatballs, eat alls.»
«Good for you,» the doctor exclaimed.
The father laid there worrying. His daughter was being operated on somewhere, his wife was going mad with grief somewhere, his mother-in-law next to her… The young doctor checked him over, gave him another injection, and he fell asleep.
In the evening, he got up quietly, barefoot, wearing only a shirt, and left. He got to the staircase without being noticed and descended the cold steps, like a ghost. He made it to the basement corridor and followed arrows saying «Office of Decedent Affairs.»
Some guy in a white coat called out to him.
«Hey, what are you doing here?»
«I'm from the morgue,» the father replied suddenly. «I'm lost.»
«What do you mean, from the morgue?»
«I came from there, but I left my documents. I want to go back for them, but where is it?»
«I don't get it,» said the white coat, taking him by the arm and leading him down the corridor.
«So you just got up,» he asked.
«I came to life, no one was around. I got up, but decided to go back to be examined.»
«Strange,» answered his escort.
They arrived at the morgue but were greeted with obscenities from the paramedic. The father listened to his protests and asked, «Is my daughter here? She was supposed to be brought here after her operation.»
He said her last name.
«No. She ain't here! Driving me nuts! Looked for her all morning! She ain't here! They made everyone run in circles! And now another nutcase! Did he escape from the funny farm? Where'd he come from?»
«Found him roaming around in the walkway,» answered the white coat.
«Call security,» said the paramedic, and started swearing again.
«Let me call home,» asked the father. «I remember, I was lying in intensive care on the third floor. I lost my memory. I came here after the explosion on Varshavka.»
The white coats fell silent. The explosion on Varshavka happened the day before. They took him, barefoot and shaking, to a table with a telephone.
His wife answered and immediately started to weep.
«You! You! Where did you get to! Theytookher body… We don't know where! And you're out wandering! And not a kopeck in the house! Not even enough for a taxi! You took it, didn't you?»
«Yes. I was unconscious, in the hospital, in the emergency room.»
«Where? Which one?»
«The same one she's in.»
«Where is she? Where?» his wife howled.
«I don't know. I don't know myself. I'm practically naked. Bring me some clothes. I'm standing here barefoot in the morgue. What hospital is this?»
«What are you doing there? I don't understand any of this,» said his wife, still weeping.
He gave the phone to the white coat. He gave the address calmly, as if nothing were wrong, then hung up.
The paramedic brought him a robe and some old, beat up slippers, apparently feeling sorry for this live human being, and sent him to the security post.
His wife and mother-in-law arrived with sunken, aged faces. They helped him to dress, shoes and all, embraced him and listened to his story with tears of happiness. Then they all sat on a couch to wait, having been told that their girl had made it through the operation and was in intensive care in serious condition.
In two weeks she was walking again. Her father took her for strolls along the hospital corridors and kept telling her how he'd known she'd been alive after the explosion, that it was just shock. Shock! No one else had noticed, but he knew right away.
However, he never breathed a word about the raw human heart that he had to eat so that she wouldn't. But, after all, it was in a dream, and dreams don't count…
MARGARITA SHARAPOVA
COMFUTURE
Translated by Jos-Alaniz.
A 100-car freight train, hauling ten little multi-colored circus cars, was going into its third day stuck in Gnilukha. Day and night they shifted the train from one rail line to another, but never got around to sending it on its way.
In one of the circus cars, serving in the capacity of escort, rode Alyona — or as everyone called her, Alex. A month before she had picked up lice and shaved her head. A visitor had mistaken her for a boy and called her Alex. The name stuck.
It was early morning, and Alex lay fast asleep on some bales of hay, rolled up to her neck in a blanket. Nearby, their lips puckered, some horses dozed; pigeons cooed sweetly in their cages; and, leaning on its stout tail as if filling an armchair, a kangaroo snorted and muttered in its enclosure.
With a bang and clamor, the massive door-wall split open, letting clouds of morning damp and colorless light into the car's stuffy interior. The horses started scraping the floor with their hooves, snorting. The pigeons chirruped, whirling, claws clattering. The kangaroo threw up its tiny front paws, goggle-eyed.
«Alex, get up! Bad news, Alex!»
That would be Orest yelling. Animal trainer. Former acrobat. A guy, around 30 years old. Alex didn't answer, so Orest jumped into the car and started shaking the blanket-wrapped body. Alex mumbled:
«Whassa matter, huh? Lemme alone… All night long they were pushing and pulling these goddamn wagons…»
«Mollie's dying!»
In a split second the blanket had unrolled and the shaven-headed girl was wide-awake, screaming out in a broken voice:
«What, you got your way, you creep!»
And, shoving him aside, she leapt out of the train car.
Mollie was a St. Bernard. They'd been given the dog just before the circus went on tour. Right off the bat they had problems. In the circus, dogs are kept in cages, and they're taken for walks inside enclosures, not outside. They're never allowed outdoors. Between cities, they're not even let out of their cages; the animals have to pee on the sawdust right there in the cage. Mollie joined the circus just before the road. She was squeezed into a cage, the cage squeezed in among other cages, where through the bars protruded the barking, howling snouts of every canine breed, and they were all loaded like cargo into the freight train. The St. Bernard alone chose to forego the barking and howling, but her eyes betrayed utter bewilderment: «I don't understand a thing. The world's turned completely upside-down.» By evening of the first day, Alex noticed that the dog had not relieved itself once during the day.