Vita Nostra (22 page)

In the evening he wanted to go to sleep, but Sasha wouldn’t allow him. She sat up with him the entire night, and at daylight, around nine o’clock, he suddenly became aware—and understood
how
these exercises were to be done.

They sat on the chairs brought into the hallway from his room. Around them things were happening, people stomped by, yelled, laughed, complained about lack of sleep, asked for snacks; at that moment, Kostya accepted as reality that in two days he would pass the exam.

And only now Sasha understood what agony he carried around inside him all these days.

***

“Sasha! I’m so glad you called! We are getting ready to meet you tomorrow, and we have such a huge surprise for you!”

“Mom… I am sorry, I won’t be able to come tomorrow.”

Pause.

“Sasha… How? What happened?”

“This boy here is taking a makeup test. I’m helping him.”

Another pause.

“Who is this boy?”

“My classmate.”

“Oh… We are so anxious to see you… It’s the Old New Year…”

“I will do my best to arrive on the fourteenth,” Sasha said. “I honestly… I just can’t get home earlier.”

***

Strangely enough, she got another ‘A’ in History. Considering that she did not study at all. She got very lucky: she knew the question really well, attended the lecture and took notes, her notes were really good, and now she could remember everything to the minute detail.

“I wish I had more students like you,” the History professor beamed at her. Lowering her eyes in false modesty, Sasha asked:

“Please… Kozhennikov just had a death in the family… he’s devastated. Please give him a ‘C,’ I’ll make sure he catches up.”

The History professor tortured Kostya for nearly a full hour, got absolutely nothing out of him, wavered and pursed her lips, but at the end did give him a ‘C.’

That night almost all of the first years departed. Only a few people stayed behind, people whose trains arrived in the morning, and those with makeup tests scheduled for the thirteenth.

Sasha stayed.

The third years’ placement exam—that very important one, the one that was crucial for the next level—was scheduled for the thirteenth as well. No jokes were made about the unlucky number. The dorm was half empty and oddly quiet.

In the morning the third years congregated in the assembly hall. Lisa, Denis and Kostya waited in Auditorium number 1 (the misfits from Group B were scheduled one hour later). Sasha roamed the halls; not a sound could be heard from the assembly hall. As if it were completely empty.

Then Portnov emerged. Sasha thought he looked aggravated. She managed to hide behind the bronze stallion’s leg just in time. Portnov entered Auditorium number 1. Sasha heard his dry voice: “Get ready. Pavlenko, you’re first.”

Sasha bit her lip.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.

Then Lisa popped out of the auditorium. She was pale as plaster. Sasha felt scared.

Lisa spotted her. She swallowed.

“What happened?” Sasha couldn’t help it.

“I passed,” whispered Lisa.

And, hugging Sasha’s neck, she burst into sobs.

It was so unexpected, and it actually hurt: Lisa’s watch snagged on a lock of Sasha’s hair and pulled it quite painfully. It also felt weird: no one had ever sobbed on Sasha’s shoulder. She only encountered this in novels. Her sweater became soggy with Lisa’s snot and tears; shyly, hesitantly, Sasha stroked her back.

“You see…you’ve done well. Everything is good now.”

Lisa detached herself and, wiping her face with her sleeve, ran toward the girls’ bathroom; on the way she stumbled, then tried to perform some swing dance moves. She did it all on her own, Sasha thought. I don’t know what Farit did to her, but it does not look like any sort of lenience.

Denis was the second one to emerge. Unlike Lisa, he was red rather that white.

“How did you do?”

“A ‘C,’” Denis could not believe himself. “Holy cow… It’s just…”

“How’s Kostya?”

“He’s up right now,” Denis was already thinking of something else. “Sasha, I’m going to get wasted. I’ll go into town. I’ll drink myself to the point of oblivion, like a pig in the mud!”

He smiled beatifically, like Cinderella before the royal ball.

Denis left. The third years’ exam was still going on, and silence reigned in the assembly hall and in the entire school. Losing her composure, Sasha measured the hall with her footsteps.

The sun came out. The glass dome over the statue was set ablaze. The humongous equestrian swam out of darkness as if lit up by limelight. Who was he? Why was he placed there? Sasha walked and walked, listening to the sound of her footsteps. Time passed. Kostya did not come out.

Finally, the door opened; Sasha flew toward it and almost ran over Portnov. It was him, not Kostya, who exited the auditorium: glasses on the tip of his nose, blond ponytail thrown over his shoulder.

“Samokhina..”

Sasha stepped back. Portnov gave her a once-over; they hadn’t seen each other since he recorded an A in her grade sheet.

“I did pass him…” Portnov gave a casual nod toward the auditorium. “I did pass him, although… Come with me.”

He turned to the concierge’s glass booth. Sasha peeked into the auditorium and saw Kostya, sweaty, exhausted but not brought to his knees.

“Did you pass?”

He nodded curtly, as if not believing it himself. Portnov got the keys from the concierge and signed her journal.

“Samokhina, auditorium thirty-eight.”

He walked along the corridor, jingling the keys in his hand. Sasha followed him as if on a leash.

“Did you hit him?”

The key turned in the lock.

“No. Well, yes. It just sort of happened…”

“I understand. Come in.”

She entered. The chairs were stacked feet up to the ceiling, seats down on the only table in the auditorium. Portnov flipped the chairs back.

“Come over here.”

A bright-green light, refracted in the pink stone of Portnov’s ring, shot into Sasha’s eyes. She staggered. Portnov grabbed her elbow.

“When is your train?”

“I don’t know… I returned my ticket for today...”

“I see. There are no tickets for tomorrow; you may not be able to leave.”

Sasha swallowed hard. Portnov took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit up and immediately put his cigarette out:

“Sorry. I forgot you don’t smoke.”

That surprised Sasha. Portnov was the first person in the school who noticed such a minor detail, and it was obvious that he really wanted a cigarette.

“I don’t care,” she said. “I’m used to it. Please smoke.”

He put away the cigarettes. Sat down and motioned for her to do the same. Sasha gingerly lowered herself on the edge of the chair.

“Kostya’s… Kozhennikov grandmother died because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Because you wouldn’t pass him the first time.”

“I didn’t pass him because he was not ready. The rest is Farit’s business.”

“And Farit is what? A machine that executes the sentence? A guillotine?”

“Ask him yourself.” Portnov gave her a weak smile. “Why did you hit that lazy bum?”

Sasha looked down.

‘He didn’t want to… could not concentrate.”

“Farit does the same thing. On his level.”

Sasha clenched her fists in her lap.

“Why do you do this to us? What for? Are we somehow different, did we do something wrong?”

Portnov clicked his lighter.

“No. You did not do anything wrong. But you must study, must work hard, and you do not want to.”

“Because you never explained to us what we are being taught, and why.”

“You would not be able to understand it. It’s too early.”

Sasha watched his lighter release a tongue of fire and pull it back in.

“When a child is taught to draw circles, does he understand what fine motor skills are? When a village boy is accepted to an academy—does he understand a lot about what’s going on?”

“A lot! He understands the main idea! A good teacher can elicit interest… can explain…”

Portnov nodded.

“What is verification, Samokhina?”

“Verification: using empirical data or experiment to confirm the truth of theoretical scientific hypothesis by ‘returning’ to the visual level of knowledge, when the ideal nature of abstract entities is ignored, and they are ‘identified’ with the objects observed.” Sasha said, caught off-guard.

Portnov nodded.

“Your learning process is an observed object. More precisely, it is an observed process. What is happening to you in reality—you are not yet capable of comprehending in your current state of development. It is as if we caught a bunch of young chimpanzees in the jungle, collected them in one place and, using a certain process, kicked off their transformation into… no, not into humans. Into models of world-wide systems and actions of all levels. Inflation, globalization, xenophobia… Do you know how to turn a chimpanzee into a model of stock market crisis?”

Sasha was silent.

“And here’s your verification,” Portnov smirked. “You are a good girl, Sasha, and you are balancing right on the edge. On the very border. I don’t want to lose you.”

Sasha stared into his immobile eyes with narrow pupils.

“Listen to me carefully. Tomorrow you are going home. I don’t know how the ticket situation is going to work out, but let’s hope you will get lucky. During your vacation—until February fourteenth—I forbid you to touch any books on Specialty. Do you understand?”

Sasha nodded, still staring at him.

“Watch yourself very carefully. Stifle your aggravation. Watch your aggression. I know, you are not used to it, but you are very dangerous to others right now. Especially for those who knew you before and who remembers you as a calm, compliant girl.”

“I cannot be dangerous to others,” Sasha said.

“Close your mouth when I am talking. Avoid large crowds. Avoid stressful situations. Make sure to get your return ticket in advance. I want to see you here on the fourteenth, do not be late. And here’s something else: no heart-to-heart talks with your mother. I am telling you this because I wish you well.”

“I noticed,” Sasha said hoarsely.

Portnov smiled.

“You are dismissed. Free to go.”

***

Kostya met her in the dark hallway and hugged, nearly breaking her ribs.

She waited politely for a minute, then detached herself.

“Sasha…”

“Congratulations,” she said officially, “I wish you further success in your studies. Sorry, I have to pack, I’m going home.”

Leaving him behind, she went back to the dorm. Oddly enough, her heart felt light and calm.

Oksana had left the day before. Lisa was not in the room. Sasha threw all her stuff in the suitcase, could not close the lid, and put half of her things back in the dresser. It was quickly getting dark. Sasha glanced at the clock: half past six. The train was coming at eleven twenty-three, but she had no ticket and no idea what she should do.

Should she go to the train station? Or try the ticket office first?

Breathing heavily, she hauled the suitcase out of the room and managed to drag it down the stairs. A memory flashed in her mind: she and Kostya, new kids stepping over the threshold of the dormitory for the first time, the stairs, the suitcase…

As usual, the concierge’s desk was deserted. Sasha put the room key on the hook number 21.

It was snowing again. Sasha walked along the narrow alley to Sacco and Vanzetti and looked for a cab.

There were no cabs. Never had been any. Sasha would have to walk along the snowy streets, hauling the suitcase behind her, until she reached the town’s center, and then she’d have to wait for the bus. Oh well, she had enough time.

“Alexandra!”

She recognized the voice and froze on the spot.

“Sasha, I’ve been waiting for you.”

She refused to turn around. She simply stood clutching the handle of her suitcase. Then the suitcase was taken out of her hands.

“I’m waiting to give you a ride to the train station in my car. Shall we?”

“I won’t go in your car,” Sasha said, feeling how her eyes that had been dry for so long again filled with tears. “Please go away.”

Snow fell slowly. The streetlight glowed.

“You and I need to settle a bit of a debt,” Kozhennikov said, his voice completely different, business-like. “Coins.”

Sasha remembered leaving the bag of coins in the dorm, in her room, under the mattress.

“It’s… there.”

“Go get it.”

She finally looked at him. Snowflakes reflected in his dark glasses.

“One minute.”

She ran back to the dorm, tore the key off the hook, went upstairs, found the bag of coins, and locked the room. She went back outside; Kozhennikov was waiting for her, her suitcase placed on the ground.

“Here.”

He weighted the bag in his hand:

“Thirty-seven… Your inner life is quite in turmoil, Alexandra.”

She held her tongue and did not respond.

“Sasha, I can get you a ticket, even if there are none at the ticket office. And I will bring you right to the train station.”

“I don’t need your help. Good-bye.”

She walked down the street, not looking back, pulling the suitcase behind her. It was getting heavier and heavier, struggling to turn over, its wheels catching on the pavement. A car followed Sasha, not falling behind and not getting ahead; she did not know which car it was. She only heard the soft sound of an automobile crawling over the snow.

Breathing heavily, she finally detected the lights of the central square ahead of her. The bus was coming in half an hour, and a pretty large crowd assembled at the stop. Kozhennikov’s car, a milky-white Nissan, stopped nearby.

Sasha purchased a bus ticket and took her place in the queue. The snow stopped. The wind chased away the clouds and pulled the remaining heat from under Sasha’s jacket.

The bus was running late. When it finally arrived, small and slow, it became obvious that not everyone was going to get on. Bickering followed. The driver promised to return quickly and do one more round trip.

Sasha was chilled to the bone. It was the Old New Year’s Eve. Stars broke out in the sky. Kozhennikov stood next to his car. He did not leave. He waited, his hands stuck in his pockets, and stared up into the sky.