Lonely Place America. Novel-in-Stories. Irina Borisova
person disappeared very soon too. Masha brought to me some candidates more. One of them played guitar and sang songs of his own composition so loudly that several days later I still could not listen to the radio. The other one sat in complete silence while Masha and I tried to amuse him, then he suddenly became red and invited Masha to go to his country house. When she refused he immediately left.
Masha complained she was too tired of all these men and already desperate to find her right one.
But after some time I suddenly noticed that Masha disappeared. She did not call any more and did not bring to me anybody. Some more time passed and I needed my telephone directory that Masha had taken again to look for another job as she had time to understand that it was hard to live without any wage even being called an architect.
I called her, asked to bring the directory; she apologized, promised to come.
And she came the same evening, brought the book but she was not alone. A black bearded man came with her. They did not look at each other, were very tense. When I looked at the man, his glance, given in answer, was almost unfriendly. Masha looked confused. I tried to talk to both of them but words stuck in my throat. Masha just gave me the book and they left.
And I understood that something was going on between them. They left surrounded by the atmosphere of uncertainty and disarray. And indeed their further relationship was complicated and not easy but there was no place for any other people and their advices in it. Sometimes Masha came to me frustrated. Sometimes she called and even through telephone line I felt how happy she was. Much of everything happened with them yet. They married only in a year.
Problems with Electricity
That day a complete darkness met me in the entrance of the house where my office was situated. I could move only by touch. I thought that something happened with electricity and maybe soon it would be improved. Having gone out for lunch in the same darkness I met a person with the steps and tools in his hands and understood it was an electricity-man.
«What happened?» I asked. «Why is it so dark at the stairs?»
«There are buttons everywhere now.» he replied.
«What buttons?» I did not understand.
«Lighting buttons in each room,» he said. «You press it going out and the stairs are illuminated. The stairs are illuminated only when somebody goes out. If you wish to come in, you press the button downstairs. Don’t you know? Great economy.»
«I have no such a button.» I said.
«Then you did not order, you are guilty yourself.» he said without special expression.
«Then will I always go out in the complete darkness?» I asked.
He did not answer rising upstairs, demonstrating that the theme was over.
«Hey, it cannot stay so!» I followed him, raising the voice. «Who invented it? How silly!»
«So you prefer the stairs to be illuminated all the time?» he asked very caustic. I replied that though I could seem very impudent but I really would prefer. We argued a little bit more and though he finally called me a scandalous lady but at last agreed to switch on the button in my office too. He set it up without any delay though grumbling something concerning my character, then left promising to come to switch it on in the evening. I did not like this renovation at all as my girls-customers could not know anything about the lighting button downstairs either and would surely have problems to find me in such a darkness. What has happened in the evening has even exceeded my expectations.
The door-bell rang, I opened the door and saw a very young girl with lots of make-up at her face and in some dress with sparkles. Her expression was very tense when she appeared from the complete darkness of the stairs. She looked around suspiciously and came in with some hesitation. Continuing to look around she reminded that she has already sent me a letter with an amateur picture of herself and that I called her and asked to bring some better picture which she brought now. She showed me the studio picture in the same dress with sparkles, with the same quantity of make-up, the reddest lips, dark shadows around eyes. I looked for her amateur picture to return for a long time; I could not remember the girl anyhow. At last I found and understood why I could not recognize her; a very nice girl without any make-up, in simple jeans and shirt was standing at the beach smiling happily. The picture was rather small and not good enough for scanning, still better than what she brought that time. Well, I did not tell her as it was her wish to display herself so.
«What will you do with me further?» she asked strangely.
«Further?» I did not understand what she meant.
«Are you always alone here?» she asked even more strangely.
«Yes,» I replied being amazed.
«And where are other people?» she continued to ask.
«Other people? Which?» I was amazed even more, and that same moment the door-bell rang, I moved to the door to open it and had time to notice the girl’s face has changed becoming quite scared.
It was the electricity-man at the stairs.
He said he would switch off light to switch on the button. And he did switch off light for a very short time. I loudly said something encouraging to the girl in the room in that complete darkness. Then the electricity-man switched on the light again, we checked the button, I thanked him, and we parted.
When I returned to the room I have not found the girl at her former place. I looked around and found her standing behind the wardrobe desperately holding a tear-gas spray in her shaking hand.
«Don’t come up to me!» she exclaimed. «What do you want to do? Why did you switch off the light?»
I was astonished but murmured something about problems with lighting-button and electricity.
«I changed my mind, I don’t want anything! Don’t come up! Who else is hiding there?» yelled she shaking her sprayer, trying to look into the hall and seems being afraid even to move.
«There was an electricity-man but he left,» I whispered with my heart trembling, thinking how to manage to call and where to call first, to the militia or to the ambulance. But the girl suddenly throwed the sprayer and burst into tears. She cried loudly and childishly, all make up leaked from her face, I ran and poured her a glass of water, my hands were also shaking when I offered it to her, I was frightened so as I was not ever for a long time.
Fifteen minutes later we both sat on my couch and had tea. The girl’s face was now clean from any make-up as she washed it; she looked like a real kid with her swelled up eyes, handkerchief gripped in her hand, in her absurd sparkling dress. And she told her story.
She was the only daughter of rather old parents. Her parents, pensioners, read a lot of newspapers and watched TV news all the time and were very much concerned with criminals and mafia by which papers and television used to frighten people every day. They even saw off their only daughter to school being afraid that something could happen with her though she hated this accompanying. When she entered the college they would like to continue but she protested and has fought her independency. Still her parents tried to follow her or to view her wherever they could. Her girlfriends dated boys long ago but it was quite impossible for her with such parents. Once however a smart car stopped beside her on her way home and a young man offered to take her. Her parents warned her most of all from just this but she not only has got into the car and chatted with great pleasure but even gave her telephone to that very nice, according to her opinion, person when they stopped at her home. And of course her mother saw it all from the window; the person in the luxurious car could be only from mafia. The scandal was grand and when the man from the car called at last, her mother had time to say that the number was wrong. It was too late when the daughter ran up to the phone. The young man never called again.
The girl decided to revenge herself. She did not care already