But all the same it was fun to be with Alicia, and Pete was certainly no fool for having befriended her.
– I’m not sleeping with her, – he was always finding excuses for himself.
– Well, nobody thinks you are – replied Sergey. – She will have everything her way.
And Alicia was casting glances at Ilya. She was even helping him to look for his plate with a house on it.
– Il, – she asked him, – What if there’s a camel near the house, like on this one?
– Impossible, – replied Pekarsky. – It should be just a white house and a blue sea.
Without realising it, we had drifted towards the jewellers’ stalls. Everything was bright and shining there, smelling of fragrances. The sellers touted in every language. They had no idea that we could understand Arabic, all five of us. I was looking at the gold necklaces in surprise, as they were so enormous that their weight looked as though it could damage the wearer’s neck vertebrae. And at that point, Pete and I became the focus of attention. It was clear that the others were not on the same wavelength as us.
First he asked me to try on ring earrings with pendants, and then he chose some coral beads. Oh my God! What wonderful beads they were! It can happen like that at the market, when everything has become just a general mess of sparkles and multicolor, when your legs feel tired, when you do not want anything because you’ve almost stopped seeing the things around you – you are overwhelmed by something magnificently beautiful!
– Pete, how did you know to choose these beads? – I exclaimed.
– I’ve been aware of things like that since my childhood, Sophie. You know, my mother would take me to boutiques all over the world with her, starting from when I was six. I have seen a lot of things. You can find wonderful red corals here in Tunis, and at a very reasonable price. Look at the mirror! – He turned the mirror to me. – Now pull up your hair, in this way. Alicia won’t listen to me. Your neck… You have got an ideal neck for the necklace. And little ears, too.
For a split second my imagination transported me, an ordinary Soviet girl, who had never seen any decent shop in her life and never been to a Western country, to some mythical shop decorated with pink velour, mahogany and crystal. Then I thought of Adriano Celentano and Anthony Quinn in the “Bluff: storia di truffe e di imbroglioni” movie. Yes, that was it. In that movie they were swindling someone at the jewelry shop. What was it called? ‘Van Cleef and…’ something…
– Do you watch European movies, Pete? – Overwhelmed, I just wanted to get on with the conversation.
– Sometimes I do. My mother’s of Italian origin, you know.
– Oh really? – I was surprised. It was impossible to think of him as half Italian. Or so I’d thought till then. At that moment, I looked at him with new eyes. He was a little bit plump on the plump side. But his face was pleasant, and he was well dressed. He was wearing some medallion on a black string. I had seen it earlier but not really given it much thought.
– What are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, – Sergey, coming into the shop, was happy to see us.
– Have you found the damned still life for Pekarsky? – I changed the topic.
– You should ask Alicia about that. I lost you all. I’ve had enough shopping. It’s high time we went to write that composition.
We did not go into any of the other shops in the market after that. Everybody was tired, so we said good-bye to one another and went home.
If you understand the status quo of the eighties, you will know that ours were no harmless pranks. The things we did on that day could have resulted in highly undesirable consequences. All of us could receive reprimands from the representatives of the Komsomol organization, and Pekarsky could receive a reprimand from the representatives of the Soviet Communist Party. They could even prevent us from traveling abroad. It was really dangerous to enter into direct contact with Americans. But nobody informed any officials about our movements. The three of us began to trust one another more, and naturally we didn’t stick to the rules. Especially because my compatriots were mostly reluctant to go to the Institute, and obviously everything feels rather different when there are no witnesses about.
There was a shabby little café at the Institute. You could buy snacks there during breaks – a can of coke or a cup of coffee, buns, pizzas with tomato paste and olives. I remember that there always were sunflower seed husks on the floor. Lots of the students would munch on them because they were so cheap, and because the fact you had to crack them made them last a long time. They were sold in little paper-bags; it was very nice. Well, to tell the truth, I’ve never eaten better sunflower seeds or potatoes than the ones I ate in Tunis. But we would only eat sunflower seeds at home in the kitchen, and after the scholarship we also bought almonds and hazel-nuts.
Pete was always hanging about, drinking coffee and chatting with Tunisians. Sometimes he even spoke Italian.
– Privet, Sophie, – he addressed me in Russian. – How are you doing?
Filimonich had taught him that. He also could say “I love you” (‘Ya tebya lyublyu”), “don’t love” (“ne lyublyu”), “A girl” (“devushka”) and “A booty” (“popa”). He couldn’t remember the word for ‘a kiss’ (“potseluy”). “What the hell?! How can such an important word be so long and complicated?” – he protested. He also hated the words for “Hello” (“zdravstvuyte”) and “nothing” (“nichego”).
– Hi, Pete! What a wonderful sweater that is!
After our trip to the market I began to pay attention to his clothes and to intuitively understand that he was dressed expensively and well. At that time we didn’t know much about style and fashion, but we were beginning to get a feeling for such things.
– Mum sent me a parcel. This one’s supposed to be for Alicia. But you know what she’s like: how could she possibly go to the Institute wearing cashmere? In fact, it’s actually a little bit tight on her. Let me give it to you, take it. – He handed over a black paper packet with a silk bow on it. – The package is Tunisian – couldn’t find anything better.
It was a silly situation. I didn’t know what to do. He was an American, and it was all very awkward. Just nonsense.
He saw that I was hesitating.
– And what present should I give you, Pete?
– How should I know? Just think of something. It’s not like I’m giving you panties or a saucepan.
At that moment it dawned on me: It was Saint Valentine’s Day today! Goodness gracious, I thought. What shall I say to Sergey? And how shall I explain it to the girls? Shall I tell them I bought it for myself, with, I don’t know, six scholarships or something? And what on earth is in this parcel? I’m snookered!
– Do you think before you do things? – I asked. But I didn’t want to offend him.
– You’re the reason I’m still studying at this sodding Institute. I want you to know that… that you have more strength and willpower than these uncombed feminists. Just be a real woman, the only one. Everyone has their own mission. The main thing is to realize that in time.
I blushed. The parcel was hot in my hands.
– Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s kind of awkward standing here like this.
There was a sweater in it, better than any garment I’d ever touched, and the coral beads from the market.
Later I learnt, that Pete came from a family of very prosperous bankers. He had studied political science at Yale University, and he had come to Tunis to visit