Suicide notes. Натиг Расулзаде
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the door behind me where she disappeared a minute ago opened and she, even more beautiful and happy, came out to the corridor with an apple in her hands. Would you like an apple? she asked, showing me a big apple so beautiful that it looked unreal. I think I kept smiling in a silly way looking at her without answering her question, full of joy from her amazing appearance, so she had to repeat it in a more impatient tone. Yes, I’d love one, – I said with a little challenge in my voice, sort of, if you ask just to be polite, here you are now, sort out this situation. But you only have one apple, – I added right away. Then she, with the agility of a magician, split the apple in two halves, cut prior to that and only put together again out of mischievousness. Yes, she was fooling around a little. She also, like me was made drunk by this glorious day, fast ride, and maybe realization of her own charming and entrancing beauty. When she, copying circus magicians, was separating one half from the other, she quietly and it seemed even shyly said “op”. It was so cute that I couldn’t help myself laughing from the joy of her being here with me, took the half she handed me and dug, like her, my teeth into the juicy and tasty pulp of the apple. Through our crunching I managed to put in – Tasty! – so that I didn’t look rude. With her I felt myself very at ease, I’d say unusually at ease. She didn’t seem to notice that I was disabled, or simply didn’t want to notice it, though it was impossible not to see it. But she could leave things unnoticed. Since my adolescence I was shy with girls, though I couldn’t complain about my looks – I was tall and athletic. But after I had my arm amputated and got back from war I began avoiding meeting with girls. Sometimes just slept with Nagiyev’s for a fifty, just to get rid of nocturnal emissions and sexual dreams, that’s all. Normal girls wouldn’t come close to me, and I, certain of a fiasco would also avoid them, what’s the point… And now this charming girl stands next to me by the window in the corridor of a speeding train. I took it as something from out of this world, something unreal. But the apple she gave me was very real, what’s more very tasty. Her smile, sound of her voice, her hair tossed picturesquely, smell of her perfume – all that was more than real. Still I, carefully as if in a dream, as if afraid to scare her off, stretched my hand and touched her shoulder. What is it? – she turned to me with a half smile on her face. Nothing, – I said, – just wanted to make sure that you’re still here. I don’t like being touched, – she said in a very natural, prepossessing voice, without a shade of disgust or arrogance, as if she was saying that she doesn’t like too much sugar in her tea. I’m sorry, – apologized I, – I didn’t mean to. It just happened. You have so many birthmarks! And really, there were tiny, no bigger than freckles, and pale, birthmarks on her white hand. Yes, – she said. You will be happy, – I said. Eh! – she replied, – don’t say banalities. No, – I corrected myself, – I wanted to say don’t forget to share your happiness with me like you shared that apple. Ha, ha! – she laughed, – very funny! I’m falling! Would you like some champagne? – I asked. I’ll think about it, – she said. How long? – I inquired. About ten minutes. Alright, – I said, – think. We quietly looked out of the window and when ten minutes passed I said to her, – your time is up. What will you say to me, the anxious one? Keep being anxious, – she said. How should I understand this? I asked. I agree, – she said, solemnly nodding her head. I bowed to her like a clown – according to the rules of our game – bent my only hand offering it to her. She again very naturally not noticing that the hand was single, leaned on it and we went to the restaurant carriage where I ordered some champagne and chocolates because it turned out that we both had already lunched. I felt myself very free with her and we soon became friends. Her name was Carina – she spoke about herself without waiting for questions, when she felt like it. This also seemed to me very natural for a girl like this; later she admitted to me that she hated questions, it’s like an invasion of your private life. She had been to Baku visiting her relatives. She lives in Yerevan and is in her last year at university. They live with her mom, they don’t have a dad. That’s it, – she finalized the short story about her life, – what is your opinion? Only the very best, – I replied, – very positive and very sincere, amazing, humane, touching, weepy, edifying. Oh, what a wit! – she said, – hold me, I’m falling! I’m ready, – replied I, – you can fall without fear. Don’t be silly, – she said without anger, – it’s just my favourite word, stupid, isn’t it? Not at all. Why? – I asked, – words by themselves can’t be stupid. A word is a word. What do you think? she said. Like what? – I asked. Unexpected, – she said having thought a little, is it good? Or not very? What do you think? At the moment I think that everything you like is good, – I replied, – half an hour ago I didn’t think so. She looked at me without a smile, holding her eyes on my face for a second. Tell me something about yourself, – she asked looking out of the window. I began telling her some things, only in general in order not to scare her with my not so good and bright autobiography. She listened attentively and with empathy, and then we chatted for a long time, steadily and mutually growing more sympathetic towards each other. In the evening we went to our compartments, I lay down and took a magazine I had taken with me from Baku and started thinking about Carina. My briefcase was still under the table just where I had left it. Though Nagiyev had strictly forbidden me under any circumstances to leave it unattended, how could I take it with me to the restaurant? What would Carina think of me? With thoughts about her I fell asleep. I remember when I was almost asleep, was between dream and reality, one thought stung me waking me for a second: how come she got along with me so easily? Doesn’t she see that I’m crippled? But then another thought came: what did we have except some innocent chat between two people travelling together? We talked, had some wine, laughed, it’s nothing and doesn’t mean anything. Everything else is my imagination. I dreamed and in my thoughts I extended and developed our relationship. Otherwise, what is so strange about a girl who has nothing else to do and is bored, talking to a stranger, a one – armed fellow on a train? I think I’m beginning to acquire some complex of one – handedness. Nothing unusual, with the attitude towards you that you see everyday… When we got out of the train in Yerevan I asked Carina permission to walk her home. Though reluctantly, she agreed. Like me she had almost no luggage, only a big plastic bag with a picture of two well – tanned girls on a gorgeous beach. I asked her by the way, if she was coming back from her relatives empty handed? Eh, – she waved me off, – I visit them often. And then what can you bring? What is there so unusual in Baku, which you can’t find in Yerevan? I don’t know, – I honestly admitted, – this is my first visit to your city. We took a taxi and I went to see Carina home, I planned to deliver the parcel to the address that Nagiyev gave me after parting with her. As she was getting out of the car Carina smiled at me and when I asked her for a date, she gave me her phone number. From her place I went straight on my business, gave the address which I memorized at Nagiyev’s to the driver, and very soon our car pulled in by a beautiful house with a tall, antique front door which, it turned out, I had to enter. There was a concierge sitting by the lift. Can I help you? – she asked. I said the name that Nagiyev had told me to remember along with the address. She made a call from the phone on her desk and while waiting for the answer asked me: “How should I introduce you?” “Tell them it’s a guest from Baku”, – I replied as Nagiyev had instructed me. So she spoke into the receiver. I noticed that she was speaking in a very servile way and having put the receiver down tried to smile at me. Her hamster like snout suddenly produced a grimace vaguely resembling a smile. It was as unexpected as if you’d seen a smiling bum which is not accustomed to such things at all. I went up in the lift and rang the door bell. It didn’t open for some time but I felt that behind that door someone was standing and examining me through the peephole. I began picking my nose so that those watching me would have no doubt that me is me. A courier is a courier; I wanted to show, picking my nose, a dirty cheek! The door opened. In the opening stood a man face and limbs completely covered by thick hair and any struggle with this strapping fellow would be suicide. Go on! – curtly ordered that King Kong without giving me his hand and calmly looking at me. As I had been instructed in Baku, I took out of my pocket and handed him a torn half of a ten ruble note I had received from Nagiyev. He grabbed the half – note and soundlessly shut the door in my face. He went to match it, I thought, putting together two halves, like in some spy movie, phah! Here I remembered the two halves of the apple that so suddenly fell apart in Carina’s hands and my heart pounded with joy at the thought that I had her phone number. The