What sort of costume will you be providing?
He issued her with a puzzled frown.
I must have a costume, must I not? Assistants must always be well presented a sequinned bodice, I was thinking, with feathers at the shoulder, and a net skirt, with fishnet tights underneath. And a feathered tiara. It is traditional, is it not? Sveta laughed deep in her throat as Gor harrumphed and looked away directly into the probing gaze of Albina.
Are you planning to use Kopek in your show, Mister Papasyan? she asked, sliding her feet over and over the nylon covering of the couch and setting Gors teeth on edge as she did so.
Ah, no, Albina, I dont think that would be a good idea.
Magicians use rabbits though, dont they? she asked, and then, Ouch, Mama, I caught my toe-nail.
Gor shuddered as she picked at it. Yes, some do. But I have not used animals in my magical expositions, ever. I find, when we are confusing and confounding the human mind, that animals are neither necessary nor advantageous.
But theyre cute. Kopek would be cute, in a top hat or with a wand or something. He could hold it in his beak. Go on, Mister Papasyan, you could use him.
No, no, Albina, really, its not necessary.
Mama, tell Mister Papasyan he should use Kopek.
Well, Gor, it is a good idea, dont you think? Sveta beamed at him and wound a finger through her brittle blonde hair. After all, people like animals
No, Sveta, it is out of the question. That bird, can play no part in my
Our! interjected Albina.
My magic show. And that is final.
Sveta drew in her lips and began to fiddle with the cuffs of her cardigan. Albina eyed Gor for a moment and let out a low chuckle.
You thought Kopek was swearing, didnt you?
Yes, Albina, he was swearing.
No, you see, thats where youre wrong! Hes a very clever bird. He was speaking Japanese.
Albina, really I think our guest
Shut up Mama! Let me tell Mister Papasyan. Albina stared at her mother as the latter avoided her gaze and dropped her eyes to her hands, which were now pulling on a scrap of fluff in her lap. Kopek was speaking Japanese! Hes very keen on karate. So am I.
She is, smiled Sveta, looking up at Gor and nodding.
Im a yellow belt. Fu kyu is a karate exercise.
It is! Sveta smiled again. Albina learnt it at school.
So you have a dirty mind, Mister Papasyan, said the girl, and she sent Gor a look from the curving corner of her eye. He could imagine her causing havoc in a hen-house.
I dont know about that, Albina, simpered Sveta.
Are you a millionaire, Mister Papasyan? the girl lisped eventually, because Mama says you cant be, but Mister Golubchik in the bakery says you owned a bank
Albina! shrieked her mother, we do not gossip here!
Ladies! Gor began, his face closed, blank eyes on the floor. It has been an interesting afternoon, but I fear I must leave you. I dont think we will get an awful lot more done today. He was determined not to be drawn into a foolish conversation about karate moves, his finances or anything else with a twelve-year-old, or whatever she was.
Oh, but Gor, I cant let you leave just yet, cried Sveta. Here weve been planning all afternoon, and I havent offered you anything at all. Let me make you some tea and a little sandwich, before you go. I insist!
When he thought about it, Gor had to agree that he was famished, especially as there had been no egg at lunchtime, so he gratefully allowed Sveta to trot into the kitchen to prepare a little something. He was relieved when Albina, after some minutes of further staring, stumbled out to help her mother. He took a turn of the room, briefly opening and then closing the purple curtains that shut out a view of the neighbouring block.
Sveta returned with a small tray on which stood a glass of tea, a rye-bread sandwich stuffed with cheese and parsley, and a painted oval dish of congealed boiled sweets.
Here, Gor, please help yourself. Albina and I will eat later.
The women sat on the sofa opposite his armchair and watched as he began his snack. The tea was perfect. Ahh! A warming glow spread throughout his belly. This is wonderful, Sveta!
Thank you. It is Georgian. You can say what you like about the Georgians, but when it comes to tea, they know what theyre doing.
Indeed! And stew, in fact, agreed Gor. Georgian cuisine is most satisfying! He bit into the sandwich, the coriander seeds on the crust adding a sweet lemony aroma to the sourness of the dark rye. He was suddenly ravenous, and chewed quickly.
I dont know about that, to be honest. I dont eat out much. Home cooking does for us. We like cutlets and stewed cabbage you cant go wrong with that.
Oh yes, nothing wrong with that. Cutlets are a fine food. I didnt mean to Gor took another bite of the sandwich and started to chew. It was at this point that he noticed something odd, and it slowed his mastication. He felt something that was neither cheese, nor parsley, nor bread. Something with a strange texture a crunch, slightly papery, slightly hairy, and slightly mushy, all at the same time. His jaw stopped moving and his teeth rested together, the food un-swallowed. Some sense was preventing his tongue from pushing the bolus to the back of his throat for the next stage. He gagged, and looked down at the sandwich.
Albina here likes ukha fish soup, carried on Sveta.
I like the heads, the girl agreed.
Gor nudged the two leaves of rye bread apart to view the filling more closely.
Oh yes, the fish heads, you do, dont you?
The eyes and brains are the tastiest bits, smiled Albina.
He squinted, and frowned. There, squashed between the cheese and the parsley, lay the partial remains of a huge, hairy brown moth. Its wings were spread wide, and covered most of the area of the bread. Only half its mottled, brown body remained.
They are full of vitamins, arent they? laughed Sveta, catching Gors eye as he looked up, his face pale, his twisted mouth still full of chewed up cheese-moth-parsley. Albina was watching him closely, her face twitching.
Is something wrong? Svetas face still curved with a smile, but her brow was creased with concern. Gors great eyes watered as they swiftly searched the room for any opportunity to get rid of the unwelcome food. There was none: no napkins, no plant pots. And still the women stared. There was nothing else for it. He manoeuvred his tongue underneath the mothy mouthful and swallowed, with steely determination.
No, he squeaked when he was sure it was not coming back up, and he cleared his throat before taking a thankful gulp of the hot, sweet tea, Well, yes, actually. I must go. He shuddered at the thought of the moth flushing into his stomach, struggled out of the chair and hurried from the room, placing the unwanted tray back in the darkened kitchen on his way out.
Oh no, tell us what is wrong, please! implored Sveta, a note of genuine concern in her voice.
Gor sat on the bench to turf off the navy slippers and shove on his own comfortable brown boots.
I well, I dont know Sveta, maybe its all nonsense, but things keep I dont know, its just so strange I must admit, Im a little bit frightened. He looked up into her face.
Oh no, tell us what is wrong, please! implored Sveta, a note of genuine concern in her voice.
Gor sat on the bench to turf off the navy slippers and shove on his own comfortable brown boots.
I well, I dont know Sveta, maybe its all nonsense, but things keep I dont know, its just so strange I must admit, Im a little bit frightened. He looked up into her face.
But why? Her hand was on his shoulder.
There was a huge moth in my sandwich just now.
A moth? Oh dear! cried Sveta. But thats nothing to be scared of, Gor
Its not the first odd thing, I assure you! There was the rabbit
Oh yes, the rabbit was dreadful!
What rabbit? cried Albina.
And phone calls at all hours of the day and night. Endless, silent phone calls! Knocks at the door too, when theres nobody there. And then this morning, an egg disappeared from the pan, as it was boiling
Disappeared? Well, thats magic! Thats supernatural!
Yes! No! And thats not all. You wont believe me but there was a face at the window a face!
But youre on the fourth floor! cried Sveta.
Exactly!
Creepy! chimed Albina.
Yes, agreed Gor. I find it quite quite creepy, as you say. He frowned.
Who was it?
No one, said Gor at last, the words pushed out through gritted teeth. There was no one there. I looked there was just thin air.
We should look at the sandwich, Mama, directed Albina, I think we should be sure. The girl trotted into the kitchen and returned moments later with the dishevelled plate held out in front of her at arms length. The three looked down on the remains of the meal.
But it was there. I saw it! Gors long, thin index finger prodded into the bread, cheese and parsley, spreading out the food, probing for the winged intruder. There was nothing there.
It was there! His voice wavered as he looked into Svetas reassuring blue eyes. What is happening to me? Do you think Im sick?
She pursed her lips. How long has this been going on?
Two weeks, approximately. Since around the time we met, in fact.
Is that so?
Ooh Mama, what can that mean?
Shush, Albina. I think I can help you, Gor. I have a friend, well an acquaintance. She may be able to assist in resolving all this.
You have? Gor asked, surprised and relieved. Is she a doctor, perhaps?
No, said Sveta, much more useful. She is a psychic.
Ah, said Gor quietly, and his eyes dropped to the floor.
Fu kyu! screeched Kopek from his perch in the kitchen.
Tolya Talks
The yellow ball of the sun hung like an egg yolk in the milky sky, spreading no warmth, exuding no glow simply suspended. Anatoly Borisovich, or Tolya for short, swallowed a rich blob of saliva. Egg in milk, like his baba made on special mornings long ago, when he had been small and blond, able to charm the crows from the trees, the snails from the buckets. When he had been young. He whisked his thoughts, scrambling the sun-egg, hankering after something edible, something nurturing, something good. He realised, with a grunt, that he was very hungry.
How many pairs of eyes along his corridor were resting on that sun, he wondered, how many of his fellow patients is that what they were? were still breathing, waiting for pancakes and milk, porridge and death. He knew there were other patients. He heard them sometimes. He hadnt been out of his room, couldnt remember how hed got there or what lay beyond the door, but he knew there were others. He turned his head, bushy grey hair rustling on the pillow. The door was opening, the green of the newly painted corridor seeping into his room. A young, athletic-looking man entered and stood at the end of the bed, fidgeting, paper and pen held to his chest. The man appeared to be speaking to him. Was he real?