“Well,” he began, “I think you’ve met my wife Olga.” I nodded. I think I met her before you did, you jerk! He downed a large glass of vodka and stared at me, but I looked away. The waiter moved rather like a duck and had a bald patch. There weren’t many people in the bar. Someone came in with a dog and sat it down on a chair next to us. What do I care about his wife? I gulped down some more vodka and it seemed to burn less. “No bigger than this, look, like a doll. . She ended up the size of a doll,” he said, gasping, as he leaned over the table and spread out his hands: “No bigger than this!” I didn’t want him to continue. We clinked glasses and the waiter waddled over to refill the carafe. The street outside was brighter than ever, although it hadn’t stopped raining. The passersby were less huddled up; some children were racing through the water and flapping their arms. I didn’t want to hear any more: it didn’t interest me and I was even a little afraid. But how could I stop him? He straightened the tablecloth, which was dirty with wine and grease stains, and stared at me full in the face, although I tried my hardest to avoid his eyes. Perhaps I was already blotto. The waiter looked at us stupidly, picking his nose. There were few customers, and each was seated alone at a table. Only the old man had his dog for company. “I’m not lying, really I’m not! No bigger than this!”
He gave me a muddled account, stumbling over every sentence and stopping now and then to drink some more vodka. He’d grabbed my hand, so I had to go on reluctantly listening to him, without understanding much of what he said. His eyes were shining. The waiter brought another flask. “God, what a horror!”
His face was buried in his hands, as if he was crying. But I knew for sure he couldn’t be. I pulled away my hand and put it in my pocket. I was sick of it all. “A year ago she was no bigger than a child, do you understand?” What was there to understand? The waiter was probably bored in the absence of customers: he looked over at us, found things to do near our table, brought a plate of mini-gherkins without our asking him. I had no desire to understand. “You know, I saw her just shrink away. And she didn’t even realize. She laughed when I told her, she thought I was kidding her. That was a year or so ago.” His words came out in a sticky mess.
As he spoke, I looked out at the street, at the children running open-armed beneath the raindrops. He said he hadn’t been able to understand either. In particular, he couldn’t get her to accept that it was ridiculous for them to go out together to a restaurant or the theater, as she wanted to do. She spent all day playing the piano, and grew sadder all the time without even realizing it. What could he have done? At the factory he was always moody; everyone was walking on eggshells. “Also, after a while, certain things were out of the question, you know what I mean? And I’m still young, after all, still a man. And she got nastier by the day — as well as smaller. God, could she be nasty. .”
It was no longer raining. A truck stopped in front of the bar, and the driver walked in noisily, slamming the door behind him, as he was used to doing with his vehicle. He was a big man, with a broad back and hair over his forehead; he looked like a bear in his gray fur coat. The waiter shuffled over to take his order. Yes, she was nasty to him, always cursing and complaining that he left her on her own; nights were a torture. He felt sorry for her, but what could he do? “Put yourself in my place.” Again he took hold of my hand. “What could I do?” He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. He had an affair with a colleague at work, also an engineer, a clever girl full of the joys of life. Olga got bored alone at home, but what could he do? She wanted to eat out, go to the movies, have some fun. . But he couldn’t have people laughing at him. She was too small.
He stopped talking and asked the waiter for the check.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Where to?” My head hurt, and I was sick to death of his story. “Where do you want to go?”
“We’re back in town now, you know. There was a scandal, so we packed up and left. What right did they have to interfere? Tell me, what business was it of theirs?”
It was no longer raining; just some water dripping from the eaves. The street glistened like someone with a wet back. Light streamed in from all sides, the clouds were less thick, and people seemed to be floating along.
“Where are we going?”
“To my place. So you can see her.”
He lit a cigarette and quickened his pace. I could hardly keep up with him. I’d have liked to wander alone in the streets; my head was as heavy as lead. Why was he telling me all this stuff? To torture me? He knew I’d been in love with her and wanted to get his own back. I took his sleeve and tugged it.
“Stop! I’m not going any farther.”
“You can’t stop now. You’ve got to come, I beg you!” He moved his face close to mine, as if he wanted to kiss me, then hissed in my ear: “You must come!”
I couldn’t take it any more. I raised my fist and hit him passionately on the cheek. Then I pushed him away and hurried off. I staggered as I ran, looking around me all the while. I stopped by a wall and got some relief by throwing up. When I raised my head, he was there beside me. There was a beseeching, almost humble, look in his eyes.
“You must come. Believe me, you really must. I’m not to blame. Come on!” And he broke into a run, his coattails fluttering in the middle of the street. I ran too and caught up with him. He was panting for breath, his eyes shining. He said in a hoarse whisper: “Believe me, I didn’t love that other woman. She was a loudmouth, always tarting herself up, thought she was clever.” He took out another cigarette, with trembling fingers. In the end I had to take his lighter and help him. Olga left home one day and vanished for nearly a month. “When she came back she was taller. God, was she taller, and more beautiful! Like she’d been at the start. You won’t believe me — no one will.” I saw him try to cry and manage only a pathetic whine. “Come on, come and see her! Now she’s the Olga from when we started out — my darling Olga.”
I couldn’t make head or tail of it and felt like throwing up again. He took me timidly by the arm, giving me gentle support. We went off like that toward the station, to where he said he lived. The clouds were breaking up, and more and more patches of blue appeared in the sky. The street wasn’t glistening so much; the light had risen higher and spread evenly over the city. He hesitated in front of his door, then stood aside to let me go first.
“Yesterday she grew some more.”
“Who?” I asked, confused.
“She grew, do you understand? She’s taller than me. And she doesn’t love me any more. No more. She spelled it out for me yesterday.”
We saw ourselves in the hall mirror: pale, tired, ugly. He began to call her name, going through every room, just like that in his dripping coat and squelching shoes; he even went into the kitchen. There was no one home. There was an unpleasant smell, and I’d have liked to open the window. In the bedroom, the closet doors were wide open and the bed was in complete disorder; a dress lay crumpled on a chair, one sleeve hanging down to the floor. And there was an unpleasant smell.
“She’s gone! You see, she’s left and won’t ever be coming back.”
He clung to the back of my coat. His features were distorted, in such a way that I believed he was really suffering and began to sympathize a bit. I took him by the arm and made for us to leave. “She’s gone for good! It’s all over!”