Konstantin Konstantinovich took her elbow and turned her to face him. “But we haven’t said goodbye or planned our next date.”
Dina said, a little sternly, “I’ll be late.”
“I’ll take you back in a taxi!” he suggested.
“The last thing I need is to appear at the dorms in a taxi, together with you!” Dina grinned.
“True,” Konstantin Konstantinovich laughed. “So when will we see each other again?”
“When I come back in a week. If you don’t change your mind by then.”
“Where and when?” He chose to ignore Dina’s last remark. “Can I call you? Tell me your number.” Konstantin Konstantinovich fumbled around in his breast pockets in search of a pen.
“We don’t have a telephone at home.”
“Good grief!” He looked at Dina in bafflement. “Does that still happen? Could you…”
“Don’t fret. I’ll come back and we can meet up again.”
“What date will that be?”
“The third.”
“The third!” Konstantin Konstantinovich exclaimed ruefully. “And what if it is the second? Or the fourth? Is it really possible? No telephone! Well, can you call me when you come back?” He started searching for a pen again.
Dina took a notebook and pen from her handbag and Konstantin Konstantinovich wrote his number on the open page.
A tram rumbled in the distance.
“Goodbye, Konstantin Konstantinovich,” said Dina and held out her hand.
He shook it and said, looking deep into her eyes, “Until next time, Dina. I will be waiting for your call.”
* * *
The room was dimly lit as the ceiling light was off, and only the table lamp stood on the table, with a newspaper covering the lampshade. Rimma was asleep, facing the wall and with the blanket pulled up over her head. Vera and Valya sat at the table with the books and notebooks spread out in front of them.
Both turned to Dina as one when she entered the room.
“Hi,” whispered Dina.
“Hi,” they answered in unison.
Dina changed clothes, took her toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bedside table drawer, and stepped out.
Vera pointedly tapped the glass of the alarm clock with her nail. The clock was showing five minutes past midnight.
Dina came back. She changed into a short silk robe, sat down on the bed and took from the bedside table a pharmacy jar containing a thick white cream, which she spread thickly over the face and hands. She leaned back onto her pillow and closed her eyes.
Vera’s loud whisper broke the silence. “How was the evening?” She asked.
“It was good,” Dina replied softly.
“Where did you go?”
“Have a care!” Rimma’s tense voice rang out. “It’s night already!”
“We’re not yelling so why are you?” Vera snapped back.
Dina said softly, “Sorry, Rimma, we’ll keep quiet.”
Rimma threw back the blanket, put on her robe, and grabbing her cigarettes from the dresser, left the room, slamming the door.
Vera decided that now they could talk openly, and turned to Dina. “Well, tell us, then!”
Dina said calmly, without moving, “I am not going to tell you anything. All you do is gossip and annoy other people. Don’t you feel sorry for Rimma?”
Vera turned away and pulled a face, but so that Dina could not see it.
The more simple Valya did not know how to react to Vera’s tricks, so she simply looked down at her notebook, although she kept glancing at the other two.
Vera couldn’t keep quiet and pounced on Dina again. “You’re such a good girl but you still paint your nails and bleach your face.”
Dina didn’t reply.
Vera kept going. “Good girls don’t doll themselves up.”
Dina replied coolly, without opening her eyes, “Chekhov said ‘Everything should be first-rate in a person, their face, clothes, soul and thoughts.’ Have you heard that before?”
Vera pulled a face again. “Gee, you know everything, Turbina.”
“Every person knows what they want to know… what they need to know.”
“Why don’t you go off and be an actress then, Turbina?”
“Why’s that?” Dina smiled.
“So that we would have a second Dina Durbin,” Vera pointed out. “Turbina! You were named after her, weren’t you?”
“Yes, after her, but I am no good at acting.”
“Oh! That’s right! You’re incapable of lying. In the movies, if you can’t lie, you can’t act.”
“You’re wrong. Playing a role does not mean lying,” said Dina and began removing the cream from her face using cotton wool.
Rimma came back in. “I don’t know what you’ve been saying behind my back…” She started.
Dina interrupted her gently. “Rimma, we know about everything that’s happened, but it doesn’t mean that you’ve stopped being our friend.”
Valya, who had glanced up in surprise at Dina, immediately looked down at her books again, while Vera sat frozen in shock.
“Personally, I feel very sorry for you, Rimma,” said Dina. “But I wish that you could just forget everything and start a new life… Well, not forget, but not repeat your past mistakes.”
Dina stood up from her bed, came up to Rimma, and hugged her. Rimma unexpectedly burst into tears. She awkwardly hugged Dina back and continued to sob loudly.
“We often think,” Dina said, “that the first man who pays attention to us, or the first one whom we fall in love with, is the perfect man for us. But it can’t be so, and isn’t always the case. The most important thing is to ask yourself: am I sure of him, of myself and of my feelings?”
Rimma had calmed down and sat on her bed, wiping her face with a towel. “Where did you learn all that from?” She asked Dina.
“From my mom,” Dina said.
“Did your mom say all that to you?” Rimma stared at her in surprise.
“No. My mom actually something completely different. But I saw her life and understood a bit more than just what I heard.”
Home
Dina stretched out on the top bunk of the sleeper carriage. She had almost 24 hours of travel ahead of her, a day and a night. She would be home tomorrow evening.
Dina liked the road, no matter where it led: to the sea, to the pioneer camp, home, or back to school after the holidays. Yet for the first time in her life, she was boarding the train regretfully. But she couldn’t not go. Firstly, she had promised her mother, who had acquired some new clothes for her daughter for the summer. Secondly… secondly, the Inner Voice had told her, “Of course, you can cancel the trip,” It said. “Or leave tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow… But you should go today. Let the impressions settle, both yours and his.” The Inner Voice knew that Dina knew what it meant. “Don’t rush things. Calm down and let him calm down. A week is the perfect length of time to look at what happened more soberly. Hmmm? What do you think?”
“I agree,” said Dina and sighed a little sadly.
She went to the railway station and stood in line for the tickets, secretly hoping that there would be no tickets left. But there were tickets, although they were for the top lateral bunks. Which once again convinced her how right the Inner Voice was, which Dina had become accustomed to trusting unconditionally – Dina suspected that when this mysterious Someone gave her advice, he knew that it would turn out just as he had suggested. Or maybe he arranged it all himself… just the way Dina needed, always what was best for Dina… It was a daring assumption: You don’t honestly think that everyone and everything revolves around you and your interests! Well, why not, thought Dina, I certainly hope that I am not getting all this at the expense of someone else.
Dina paid for the ticket and boarded the train.
She stretched out on her bunk and timidly asked her Inner Voice:
“Can I at least think about him?”
“Of course! Of course you can think about him!” replied her trusty counselor. “The more, the better! Go over every word, every gesture… analyze what you liked and what you don’t like about him.”
Dina was overjoyed to hear this response, so the first thing she did was take out her notebook, open it at the right page and let her eyes roam over the letters KK, the telephone number, and the small heart drawn beside it. She pressed the page to her lips and sent a mental hello to the hand that had left this precious memento of the long day, which had started at eight in the morning at the exam and finished after midnight, when she had returned to her dorm room.
Dina remembered the touch of this hand on hers. And the way this hand lay on her back for a long, endlessly long time… when they danced to the Moonstone… and then briefly, but firmly pressed Dina to him…
Konstantin Konstantinovich. What would be a more affectionate name? Kostenka… My darling Kostenka… Kostyusha… Kostik. Kotik… Or simply “my darling.”
No, all this made her head spin.
The way he looked at her knees. No, the way he looked into her eyes. Yes, eyes are much better. He sat so close to her there, in the cinema, and looked at her. Then she had turned to him, and his face was so close… His eyes sparkled and his slightly parted lips were smiling. And later, he wanted to kiss her… His face was so close again, close enough to cup his face with her hands and press her lips to his forehead, cheeks, his lips… touch her lips to his…
“Can I think about this?” Dina asked, embarrassed that she first imagined it all and only then asked for permission.
“Yes, yes,” grinned the Inner Voice. “You can think about whatever you want if it’s love.”
“Well,” Dina said. “It is love.”
“Just remember that this is about your love,” said the Inner Voice, emphasizing the word your, “you don’t yet know anything about his feelings. Right?”
“Yes,” agreed Dina. “I will only think about my love for now.”
“And don’t go too far, don’t expect what you simply can’t… have no right to expect from him. Or you’ll cry bitter tears later on.”
“All right,” promised Dina and went back to thinking about Konstantin Konstantinovich… Kostya’s lips.
They were so lively, so mobile… it was so nice to look at them whenever Konstantin Konstantinovich… whenever Kostenka said something… when he smiled… It must be so nice when these lips kissed you…
What would it be like? Dina had only seen kisses in the movies. Arthur Davlatyan’s kiss did not count – he had barely touched the corner of Dina’s lips with his lips. That was when she had helped him with the first project. He had said, “Thank you so much,” and kissed her.
“You’re welcome,” Dina had replied. “But don’t ever do that again!”
So he never did, even though sometimes Dina wanted him to repeat the kiss. But he was waiting for her permission, and Dina did not like that.
“Look at yourself,” thought Dina, “He kissed you without your permission, you didn’t like it, and when he waited for your permission, you also didn’t like it.”
Valera Revyakin did not wait and did not ask for permission. He kissed her for real, but that was a very long time ago.
Konstantin Konstantinovich had also waited for permission… No, that was different – he was not waiting for permission, he was simply being considerate. He did not want to offend or upset her. That was something else.
If he had decided to kiss her, what would it have been like?
Dina did not know the answer to that question. She did not have enough experience. But she wanted to find out. She dearly wanted to know… She was willing to pay with bitter tears for it, only to find out how it feels to be kissed by her darling Kostya…
Darling Kostya?!
Yes, darling Kostya. Dear Kostya. My dear, darling Kostya.
Mom
Dina’s mom stood on the platform, a little distance away from all the departing and arriving passengers. Dina hadn’t told her the carriage number, she had passed a message on through Aunt Ira that her mom didn’t need to meet her. She could find her way home with no problem, she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Although she knew that her mother loved train stations and loved welcoming and saying goodbye – it was always a big deal for her. In all these years, she hadn’t seen Dina off only once.
Her mother saw Dina immediately and waved to her.
“Dinochka! Daughter!” She hugged Dina.
And Dina felt the indescribable warmth, sensed her mother’s love – so clear and simple, like drinking water when you are consumed with thirst.
“Mom… why are you here? I’m not a little girl.”
But her mother just beamed and couldn’t stop gazing at Dina.
They got on the bus. It was only three stops until home and her mom only had time to ask about the semester and the work placement.
“My clever girl. I am so proud of you!” She held Dina under the arm the whole way, pressing her close.
The house smelled, as always, of comfort, warmth, and delicious food. As always, Dina’s mother had made her daughter’s favorite dishes. The table was set and while Dina showered after the trip, her mom warmed up the hot food and put a bottle of champagne on the table.
“To you, darling!” Said her mother as she raised her glass.
“To you, Mom!” Said Dina and for one elusive moment, she saw herself sitting opposite Konstantin Konstantinovich: with a glass of champagne slightly raised above the table, his laughing eyes, a lock of black hair falling onto his forehead, the parted mouth, and the attractive large fingers holding a glass.
“Dinochka, what’s going on with you?” Her mom looked at her closely.
“Nothing, Mom! Everything’s fine!” Dina tried to act natural and even laughed. “Why do you ask?”
But it’s hard to hide from your own mother. Especially a loving mother.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.