‘My grandfather says that the Aral Sea was once known as the Blue Sea, because of the colour of its waters. It no longer exists, and yet the people there refuse to leave their houses and move somewhere else: they still dream of waves and fishes, they still have their fishing rods and talk about boats and bait.’
‘Is it true about the atomic tests, though?’ asks my publisher.
‘I think that everyone born in my country feels what the land felt, because every Kazakh carries his land in his blood. For forty years, the plains were shaken by nuclear or thermonuclear bombs, a total of 456 in 1989. Of those tests, 116 were carried out in the open, which amounts to a bomb 2,500 times more powerful than the one that was dropped on Hiroshima during the Second World War. As a result, thousands of people were contaminated by radioactivity and subsequently contracted lung cancer, whilst thousands of children were born with motor deficiencies, missing limbs or mental problems.’
Mikhail looks at his watch.
‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go.’
Half of those around the table are sorry, the conversation was just getting interesting. The other half are glad: it’s absurd to talk about such tragic events on such a happy occasion.
Mikhail says goodbye to everyone with a nod of his head and gives me a hug, not because he feels a particular affection for me, but so that he can whisper:
‘As I said before, she’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘“Don’t worry,” he says. Why should I worry about a woman who left me? It was because of her that I was questioned by the police, splashed all over the front pages of the scandal sheets; it was because of her that I spent all those painful days and nights, nearly lost all my friends and…‘
‘…and wrote A Time to Rend and a Time to Sew. Come on, we’re both adults, with plenty of experience of life. Let’s not deceive ourselves. Of course, you’d like to know how she is. In fact, I’d go further: you’d like to see her.’
‘If you’re so sure about that, why did you help persuade him to come to supper with us? Now I have a clue: he appears every Thursday at that Armenian restaurant.’
‘I know. You’d better follow that up.’
‘Don’t you love me?’
‘More than yesterday and less than tomorrow, as it says on those postcards you can buy in stationery shops. Yes, of course, I love you. I’m hopelessly in love, if you must know. I’m even considering changing my address and coming to live in this huge, empty apartment of yours, but whenever I suggest it, you always change the subject. Nevertheless, I forget my pride and try to explain what a big step it would be for us to live together, and hear you say that it’s too soon for that; perhaps you’re afraid you’ll lose me the way you lost Esther, or perhaps you’re still waiting for her to come back, or perhaps you don’t want to lose your freedom, or are simultaneously afraid of being alone and afraid of living with someone – in short, our relationship’s a complete disaster. But, now that you ask, there’s my answer: I love you very much.’
‘So why did you help?’
‘Because I can’t live for ever with the ghost of a woman who left without a word of explanation. I’ve read your book. I believe that only by finding her and resolving the matter will your heart ever truly be mine. That’s what happened with the neighbour I was in love with. I was close enough to him to be able to see what a coward he was when it came to our relationship, how he could never commit himself to the thing he wanted with all his heart, but which he always felt was too dangerous to actually have. You’ve often said that absolute freedom doesn’t exist; what does exist is the freedom to choose anything you like and then commit yourself to that decision. The closer I was to my neighbour, the more I admired you: a man who decided to go on loving the wife who had abandoned him and who wanted nothing more to do with him. You not only decided to do that, you made your decision public. This is what you say in your book; it’s a passage I know by heart:
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