Self-discovery

The window and glass door that opened onto the balcony of the fifth floor glowed softly. It looked like the table lamp was on. “Is he home?” Krivoshein ran up the stairs, rummaged through his pockets from force of habit, remembered that he had thrown out the key a year ago, and swore at himself, for it would have been very effective to suddenly walk in: “Your documents, citizen!” There still was no doorbell, and he knocked.

He heard light, quick steps — they made his heart beat faster — and the lock clicked. Lena was opening the door.

“Oh, Val, you're alive!” She grabbed his neck with her warm hands, looked him over, smoothed his hair, hugged him, and began crying. “Val, my darling… and I thought… they've been saying such horrible things! I called your lab, and there was no answer. I called the institute, and when I asked where you were, what had happened, they hung up. I came here, and you were gone. And they told me that you were….” She sobbed angrily. “The fools!”

“All right, Lena, don't. That's enough. What's the matter?” Krivoshein wanted very much to hold her close and he barely controlled his arms.

It was as though nothing had happened: not discovery number one, not the year of mad, concentrated work in Moscow, where he cast away the past…. Krivoshein had tried more than once — for spiritual peace — to eradicate Lena's face from his memory. He knew how it was done: a rush of blood with an increased glucose level to the brain's cortex, small oxidations directed at the nucleotides of a certain area — and the information is removed from the cells forever. But he didn't want to… or couldn't. 'Wanting' and 'being able' — how do you distinguish them in yourself? And now the woman he loved was weeping on his shoulder, weeping from anxiety about him. He had to soothe her.

“Stop, Lena. Everything's all right, as you can see.”

She looked up at him. Her eyes were wet, happy, and guilty.

“Val… you're not mad at me, are you? I said all those horrible things to you then — I don't know why myself. I'm just stupid! You were hurt? I thought that it was all over, too, but when I found out that something had happened to you… I couldn't. You see, I ran here. Forget it, please? It's forgotten, all right?”

“Yes,” Krivoshein said sincerely. “Let's go inside.”

“Oh, Val, you can't imagine how terrified I was!” She was still holding onto his shoulders, afraid to let go. “And that investigator… the questions!”

“He called you in, too?”

“Yes.”

“Aha, the old cherchez la femme!”

They went inside. It hadn't changed: a gray daybed, a cheap desk, two chairs, a bookshelf piled with magazines up to the ceiling, and a wardrobe with the usual mirrored door. In the corner by the door lay crisscrossed dumbbells.

“I cleaned up a little, waiting for you. The dust… you have to keep the balcony door shut tight, when you leave.” Lena moved close to him. “Val, what did happen?”

“If I only knew!” he thought with a sigh. “Nothing terrible… just a lot of brouhaha.”

“Why the police, then?”

“The police? They were called, and they came. If they had called the fire department, they would have come too.”

“Oh, Val….” she placed her arms around his neck and wrinkled up her nose. “Why are you like that?”

“Like what?” he asked, feeling more stupid by the second. “Well, seemingly grown — up, but irresponsible. And when I'm with you I turn into a silly schoolgirl…. Val, where's Victor. What happened to him? Listen,” she asked, her eyes growing wide, “is it true that he's a spy?”

“Victor? What Victor?”

“Are you joking? Victor Kravets, your assistant and nephew twice removed.”

“Nephew, lab assistant….” Krivoshein was momentarily confused. “So that's it!”

Lena threw up her hands.

“Val, what's the matter with you? You can tell me. What happened in the lab?”

“Forgive me, Lena, I just got confused. Of course, old Peter, I mean Victor Kravets, my trusty assistant and nephew… a very nice guy….” The woman still regarded him wide — eyed. “Don't be surprised, Lena, this is just a momentary amnesia, that always happens after… after an electric shock. It'll pass, it's not serious. So you say the rumor's begun that he's a spy? Ah, that Academy of Sciences!”

“Then it's true that there was a catastrophe in the lab? Why, why do you keep everything from me? You could have been — no! I don't want to think about it!”

“Stop, please God, stop!” Krivoshein said irritably, sitting down. “Could have, couldn't have, did, wasn't…. You see, everything is fine. (I wish it were, he thought.) I can't tell you anything until I've figured it all out myself.” He moved into an attack. “And what's your problem? So, there's one Krivoshein more or less in the world — big deal! You're young, beautiful, childless — you'll find someone else, someone better than an aging codger like me. Take Peter, I mean, Victor Kravets: he's better for you?”