Reflecting thus, he unexpectedly fell asleep in the armchair, his thick round beard pointing upwards. Vaska the rat took advantage of the opportunity to come out and make sure there had not been a foreign invasion, but retired reassured — no aliens. You can escape uncomfortable thoughts by going to sleep, because although thoughts are stronger than man, man is more devious than thoughts. He has other ways of living as well.
Nina also dozed on the divan. She dreamed of a sweet-smelling meadow with flowers, fluttering butterflies and humming insects. There were women in headscarves haymaking, men with pitchforks and a motorbike. But she slept lightly and kept getting up to put a small stool under his feet, cover him with a tartan blanket or simply feast her eyes on him. At one point he woke up and asked the time, then said he must go and went back to sleep. In the morning Nina examined him carefully. A bespectacled man without his glasses is irresistible, but doubly so when he is asleep, for he appeals to the maternal instinct as well. You could see how harmless he was, like a little child, with his damp eyelashes and fine blonde hair.
Nina sighed and went down to the shop for some beer, then decided to get some fish, salted crackers, lemons, olives and ham. He woke up, lost and guilty, kissed her hand and said miserably, «I must be going.»
«Have a beer before you go.»
«Do you think I should?» he hesitated.
«Yes. I do. What about you?»
«I don't want to go, but I must.»
«Must?» Nina's thoughtful eyes reproached him, and he began to wonder too — what for? In fact the question «what for?», if not understood superficially, in its everyday meaning, is a disturbing one, with a sting like a wasp. He didn't want to think. He just wanted to enjoy himself, without any dreary questions.
The visitor went to have a shower and sang a few bars in an attractive, beery bass, then downed a mug of beer, cheered up and told Nina two very smutty stories about some friends of his.
One of them, on tour in Alma-Ata, booked a double room in a hotel for himself and his friend. Then, also accompanied by his friend, he found a woman right there in the hotel, and the two of them made love to her together. But the thin, sallow-faced creature turned out to have an appetite for men as voracious as a refuse-disposal unit and kept complaining «more», «more», «no good», «no good», which absolutely paralysed them. Eventually the exhausted hero could bear it no longer and told her to clear off. She wouldn't. He threatened to call the manager, at which she screeched in a real fury that she was the manager and that as of now they were no longer staying there, because hotels were not for… At this point he trailed off.
The second story was no better. One evening a friend of his was offered a girl in a restaurant, a real good looker in high heels. They retired to his room and everything seemed fine, until she went off to the bathroom to get undressed. What emerged was a completely naked creature with the most obscene blue prison tattoos all over except on her hands and feet. This monster sat down on the arm of the chair, ran her hand through the poor man's greying hair and cooed: «My little silver fox.» Next morning his colleagues found him in a hotel on the other side of town.
Nina resisted the desire to laugh. Because people sometimes misunderstand and think you are laughing at them. So she just said «poor chap» and saw from his face that she had hit the nail on the head. All men are poor chaps if you think about it. She had always thought so at least. But you mustn't give way to them too much or you will be even poorer. Actually she had enjoyed it. She always liked hearing how people had been disappointed, and feeling sympathetic and sorry for them. She liked to feel involved. And these stories, although silly and smutty, were about people being disappointed.
It was while Nina was feeling sympathetic that things began to happen. He finally put his hand on her knee. Casually, absent-mindedly, as if nothing special was going on. Without looking at her, he stared pensively at the ceiling. Then the hand was removed. Nina shifted very slightly towards him, also absentmindedly, as if nothing special was going on. Then he put his hand back on her knee and inched his way up very slowly. Nina watched as the light material of her Indian skirt was raised and gathered into folds like a window blind, revealing more and more white skin, and at last, unable to restrain herself any longer, opened her legs wide and threw back her head, arching her neck.
They dressed afterwards and went out into the raw cold wind to buy a bottle of brandy. Nina fried some meat with potatoes and spices, while he watched in silence, his arms round her waist. She did not need to be told that everything was right between them. From raw to cooked, from hard to soft, from strange to familiar. That's the way it goes. Not only in the frying pan. They ate and drank leisurely with relish.
«A museum needs a curator,» he said. «A teacher should have a pupil, a nurse a patient and a railway engine a driver. A key needs a lock and vice versa. That's the way things are, and praise or blame don't come into it.»
«No, they don't,» Nina echoed. This was why she liked intellectual men. Because whatever they told you made it easier to understand things. You could always repeat it without fear of making a fool of yourself.
«It's time I went.»
«It's late, half past eleven. Wait till tomorrow. In for a penny, in for a pound.»
«You're right as usual.»
He grasped her under the arms and laid her, rich and creamy as well-cooked soup, on the sofa.
Next morning, after a protracted breakfast, he dialled a number but kept getting the engaged signal. Nina revelled in this sign that seemed to augur well, but eventually took pity on him and decided to help. She got through straightaway.
«Hello.»
«Please don't worry. Your husband is at my place. Nothing has happened to him.»
Her visitor leapt off the sofa and began rushing up and down, waving his hands in horror as if warding off a cloud of mosquitoes.
«Why on earth did you do that?»
«I don't know. It was all so unexpected.» Nina forgot about her resolution not to answer questions beginning with «why».
«But you could have kept quiet and said nothing, couldn't you?»
«Unexpected situations always make me say something,» Nina insisted.
«And is it always something silly?»
«Yes, it is. But perhaps not always,» she looked warily, but no shouts ensued. «Maybe it was better like that.»
«I don't think so. On the contrary, I think it made things worse.»
«She doesn't love you.» The obstinate miner's torch on Nina's forehead switched full on.
«Oh, for heaven's sake. Aren't things bad enough?»
«There's a hole in your pocket and your top button's missing.»
«Bad omens,» he mocked. «Why were you looking in my pockets?»
«I wasn't,» said Nina in an aggrieved voice. «Your key fell out and I put it back.»
«Alright, I'm sorry. But I must go now.»
«Can I see you home?»
«That's funny,» he shrugged his shoulders. «Like kids do. But come along if you like. Nobody's wanted to do that since I started school.»