Aleko returned crushed. He waited for Elene to leave for a lesson with one of her private pupils, then called me into the kitchen. He had to smoke two cigarettes before he was ready to outline the full extent of the catastrophe I had set in motion with my openness, and into which I had now also dragged David. As soon as he said David’s name, before he had even mentioned the problem, I knew that something had been irrevocably destroyed, and I fought back the tears with all my might.
‘He doesn’t want to see me any more, does he?’ I blurted out, and the tears began to flow.
‘It’s not that he doesn’t want to; he can’t. He’s not allowed to.’
‘Because of Kostya?’ I whimpered. Aleko nodded mutely. ‘Did … did he go and visit him? But … what … what bad things did he tell David about me?’
‘It’s not about you, Niza. Kostya seems to have got a look at David’s file and brought to light a few secrets that David would rather had remained hidden.’
‘But … what kind of … secrets?’ I simply couldn’t imagine that my caring mentor had anything to hide.
‘I don’t know, Niza. He didn’t want to tell me, and that’s his right, after all — that’s why it’s a secret, because he doesn’t want to talk about it. But he said Kostya had threatened to make this secret public if he went on teaching you.’
‘But he doesn’t teach me. We … All we do is talk!’
‘I know, Niziko, but he teaches other people. That’s how he earns his living, and if your grandfather has something up his sleeve that could damage his reputation, he won’t be able to make ends meet, and that would be a disaster: do you understand me?’
‘But David hasn’t done anything — not him, not David … I want to go and see him, please, please, Aleko, drive me there, I have to …’
‘Hey, little one, we can’t do that now. He says you can phone him any time if you need to, but visiting … well, that’s not such a good idea at the moment. I’m sorry, Niza; I don’t know what Kostya found out that would make him keep you away from David. And I do know what he means to you.’
That night, I hurled myself against the walls, banged my head against the cupboard, and cut my school uniform to ribbons, and at dawn I decided to go to war with Kostya. I had nothing left to lose. He had razed everything I held dear, had callously exploited all the things that might break my heart, and everything in me was crying out for revenge.
But before that, I had to find out what he had on David. The following evening, I marched straight into my grandfather’s study and confronted him. Angry that I hadn’t knocked, he got up from his seat, pushed his reading glasses up onto his head, and looked at me disapprovingly.
‘How often must I tell you that when doors are closed, they may not simply be opened?’
‘You lied to me, you used me, you’ve ruined everything! You’re a mean person, I hate you!’ I shouted in his face. Completely taken aback by how loud I was, he took a step backwards and sat down again heavily in his office chair.
‘You just watch what you’re saying, young lady!’ He always adopted this slightly overbearing, teacherly tone when he was momentarily at a loss for words.
‘What did you say to him? How could you …’
I was trying my hardest not to burst into tears in front of him, even if the tears were starting to choke me again. My voice wavered, and I had to hold on to the edge of his desk with one hand in order to stay upright. Fear mingled with my despair, rendering me defenceless, impulsive, uncontrollable, and I knew that this state could quickly become a trap for me.
‘Ah, now I understand. You mean your pedagogue, am I right?’
‘I love him, and he hasn’t done anything and he helps me and he — I want him back!’ I screamed.
‘It doesn’t surprise me that your stepfather is friends with such freaks of nature, but the fact that your mother didn’t think to check who she was sending her own child to every week is unforgivable, even by her standards. And she teaches children herself!’
‘What did you say to him? I want you to call him right away and apologise — you don’t know him, you don’t know how …’
‘Now, Niza, please calm down and listen. I won’t allow you to speak to me in that tone of voice. I only did what any thinking, responsible person, and a grandfather, above all, would do for his granddaughter.’
‘I don’t want to calm down, I want you to call him and —’
Suddenly he slammed his fist down, and the whole table shook. I shrank back instinctively, but didn’t let go of the table edge.
‘Listen to me, and stop interrupting! I just wanted to find out what sort of teacher they were sending you to. You’re still young, easily influenced, and as the person in charge of your education, Niza, it’s important for me to know who I am allowing to influence and shape my little girl. I had no intention of harming your teacher. I just looked up some information about him, and what did I discover but that my granddaughter was sitting under the roof of a pervert; that a pervert was explaining the world to her.’
‘He’s not sick, what are you talking about?’ I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand any of this. ‘He’s really good at physics and philosophy, and he can do higher mathematics too, and he taught himself four languages and —’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. But I have to ask myself why your good-for-nothing stepfather didn’t take the trouble to find out why this genius had abandoned his career and taken to brainwashing little children in his own apartment instead.’
‘He’s always had different views …’
‘Views. Exactly, Niza, different views,’ Kostya interrupted me, smirking and leaning back in his chair. ‘I have protected you from something he might have inflicted on you. I did what I had to do, what any normal father —’
‘But you’re not my father!’
I was raising my voice again, which displeased him so much that he suddenly leapt up, came over, and planted himself right in front of me. He looked down and hissed in my face: ‘Mark you: your teacher is a sick man. He’s a danger to society, and to children in particular, and that is why you will never go back there again, do you understand me? You’ll have to be content with this explanation for the time being. And now I would like you to get out of my room and never come in here without knocking again.’
Seeing his face so close to mine, smelling his breath, the confidence in his eyes intimidated me. I wanted to rush out of the room at once, but the will to see David again was greater than my impulse to flee. I looked him in the eye and said quietly, but firmly: ‘He’s not sick. You’re sick. You, not him!’
I watched him lose control of his features, saw rage take possession of him — the only thing we had in common just then — but I had resolved not to weaken, whatever the cost.
‘He’s a pederast. Your wonderful teacher is a sick bastard. Is that reason enough for you now?’
‘A what?’
‘A man who loves little boys and —’
‘But I’m not a boy!’ was the best I could come up with.
‘A man who does things with them that an adult should not do with children.’
‘Like the things you did with Rusa, you mean?’
My grandfather’s slap had so much weight behind it that I lost my balance and almost fell to the floor, before steadying myself, thinking for a moment I had gone deaf in my left ear. He stared at his hand in shock, as if it might hold a plausible explanation for his behaviour.
‘You shouldn’t have pushed me that far …’ he muttered.
*
I lay awake the whole night thinking. David had only done things with me that made me happy. What part of giving me joy, protecting me, was supposed to be sick? At the same time, my grandfather had sounded so threatening as he uttered those strange words, and the vivid recollection of that burning slap kept me from dialling David’s number.
The thought that from now on I would have to forgo seeing David had me paralysed with fear. I would have nowhere to offload my questions, to get the anger and frustration off my chest. How would I manage without his library and, above all, his understanding? As I couldn’t come to terms with the idea, I decided to seek out the only person who wasn’t constantly reminding me of my betrayal and ask him for help once again. I described my confrontation with Kostya in detail to Aleko, explained the questions and concerns I had about the term pederast, and asked him to tell David that I would do everything in my power to be allowed to carry on visiting him. I didn’t expect the reaction my words elicited from Aleko. Even before he gave full vent to his rage, I knew I’d made another mistake.
For the first time, he took Kostya’s side, and actually insulted David, using terrible words, calling him a ‘dissembler’ and a ‘lecher’. I stood in the corner, horrified, letting the tide of insults wash over me. What had I set in motion? Why did that blind woman have to turn up at our house and make me soft and affectionate with her sad story? What on earth had I been thinking when I triggered this chain reaction, which, once started, I just couldn’t stop?
‘Now I know why his wife doesn’t let the children see him any more, and why his former colleagues speak so badly of him. And there I was, thinking he was my friend. The lying bastard, I’ll give him what for. You should be grateful to your grandfather, Niza!’
Aleko’s eyes were bloodshot, the spittle flew from his lips, and my attempts to mollify him didn’t help at all.
When Elene came back, he stormed past her, saying he had to take care of something, and disappeared out of the door. I could tell another calamity was approaching. But should I tell Elene? It felt too risky. She was already angry with me; every time she looked at me it was with a hurt, reproachful expression; and in any case I still didn’t know exactly what a pederast was.
The week wore on and still there was no imminent prospect of seeing David. I couldn’t stand it any longer; I skipped the last two lessons at school and took the trolleybus to David’s apartment.
I had to ring several times before he answered the door. He had bruises under his eyes and a bandage round his head. He stepped back in alarm, and after reassuring himself that I was alone, he let me into the hallway, though he didn’t invite me any further into his studio. We stood together in semi-darkness. This time I made no effort to hold back my tears. And he made no move to comfort me.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ I wailed.
‘I know, I know, Niza.’ His tone was cold and distant.
‘Who did that?’ I stammered, pointing at the bandage.
‘It’s not important now. I’m afraid we can’t see each other any longer.’
‘But I want to stay with you.’
A cautious smile flitted across his face.
‘I know, but we can’t always do the things we want to do.’
‘But you … you said we should always fight for the things that are important to us. You’re important to me.’
‘In some situations, learning to live with things is more worthwhile than fighting them.’
These were the first words David had uttered that I didn’t agree with. Now I was sobbing again, breathlessly, uncontrollably.
‘Give it a few years, Niza, and you’ll be old enough to decide for yourself whom you want to be friends with and whom you don’t.’
‘But I’m old enough now. Are you really a pederast?’ I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my coat.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘What does pederast mean, David?’
‘It’s when older men are attracted to children or teenage boys.’
‘So what are you, then?’
‘I’m homosexual.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I’m attracted to adult men.’
‘And are you attracted to me, too?’
He smiled to himself again, this time in a more relaxed way.
‘Yes, Niza; I feel attracted to you, yes, but not in the way I meant it just now. Attracted in that sense also has a sexual component. And happily that component doesn’t exist between us.’
‘But why do the others say you’re a pederast when you’re not?’
‘Because most people here use the term wrongly. They call all homosexuals pederasts because it’s an insult, and they class homosexuals as sick people, too — not only pederasts.’
‘But then we can carry on seeing each other, can’t we, if you’re not a pederast? We just have to explain to them that you like adult men and not children, and anyway I’m not a man. They’ll understand that, won’t they?’
‘No, I’m afraid they won’t, and we can’t do that. I hope that one day you’ll understand why I can’t ignore this ban, not under any circumstances: it’s not within my power. You’ll always be a friend of mine. But you have to go now, Niza. I’m sorry, but you must.’
*
The next day — it was a grey November afternoon — I went straight to the State Film Studio after school and asked to see Kote Latsabidze. He wasn’t there, but when I insisted and told the secretary it was a matter of vital importance, they called him.
Two hours later, he arrived, a bald-headed man in jogging bottoms and a military jacket. I thought he looked more like a hardened criminal than an artist, but then I remembered Aleko’s friends, who had exactly the same look, and decided not to give the matter any further consideration. I introduced myself and explained the situation to him in detail. He asked me twice if this was really the Kostya Jashi I was talking about.
Finally, I gave him a thorough explanation of my plan. As I was speaking, he kept opening his mouth as if to make some objection, then closing it again. From time to time, he smiled to himself, though I couldn’t be sure if it was because my plan amused him, or if it was a sense of relief at having come a step closer to getting the actress he wanted.
‘Daria’s little sister. Well I never. Daria’s little sister …’ he murmured, as if he couldn’t make the connection between Daria and me at all.
‘And you don’t think your grandfather will get wind of this and land us in a great deal of trouble? Your grandfather is a powerful man, kiddo, he could endanger the whole project. In any case, I can’t use her without consent from a guardian: your sister is underage.’
‘What do you mean? You’ve got my mother’s consent, haven’t you? It’s just a matter of playing for time. It’s a matter of keeping Kostya away while you make the film.’
He stared at me in disbelief, then let out a laugh. I was annoyed; the fact that he found it so hard to take me seriously really rubbed me up the wrong way.
Suddenly a terrible thought made me flinch. ‘You’ve found someone else, haven’t you?’
Unexpectedly, he shook his head. ‘There are a few contenders, but I haven’t been able to decide on anyone yet. Your sister is still my first choice.’
‘Please!’ I begged him. ‘She won’t disappoint you. Daria wants to do it so much. Come on — please. We can do this. It’s a good plan. Believe me.’
‘How old are you exactly?’ he asked me, getting up from his chair.
‘Eleven,’ I said, hoping the number would sound serious and grown-up to his ears, but not sure that it had.
He left the room for a few minutes. When he came back, he had a cigarette in his mouth, and he paced restlessly up and down. Then, suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the room and winked at me.
‘All right, kiddo, we’ll do it your way. It’s not bad, this plan you’ve cooked up. I mean that. I’ll have my secretary dig out the contract and I’ll wait for your call. Deal?’
He gave me a mischievous grin. I leapt up delightedly and shook his hand, then ran out of the room, through the high-ceilinged studios, and out onto the street, relieved and happy.
*
‘Wake up, I need to talk to you.’
I sat on my sister’s bed and shook her awake. She grumbled at me, turned to face the wall, and pulled the covers over her head.
‘It’s important. Come on, Daria, you have to listen to me. You can do your film. I went to see Latsabidze today.’
The blanket loosened, she poked her nose out, then pulled the covers down below her chin and turned onto her back.
‘And how’s that going to work? They’ll have found someone else by now.’
‘No, there’s no one else. He wants you.’
The words took effect. She sat up suddenly. ‘Can you please just talk like a normal person and tell me what on earth you’re going on about?’ she snapped.
‘All right. But only on condition that it stays between us. Just you and me. You can’t tell Mama or Kostya, you can’t even say anything to Stasia, let alone your friends.’
‘Yes, now come on, tell me!’
‘At school, there’s a poster on the notice board. The Komsomol Youth is offering pupils a three-week skiing course in Bakuriani. The whole thing’s being staffed by students from the Institute of Education. Three weeks, no parents, with only students in charge. Think about it. Latsabidze says he’s quite sure he can film all your scenes in those three weeks.’
‘You mean …’
‘Yes, I signed us up for the course yesterday.’
‘But that’s total madness! The minute I don’t turn up, they’ll phone home!’
‘Yes, and that’s why I have a plan. We’ll spend weeks going on at Kostya about how happy it would make us to learn to ski, along with the other children. Then we’ll get on the coach with everyone else outside the school. We drive off, waving to him from the window like good little girls, and once we’ve left the city, you start whimpering. Ow, ow, ow — it seems you can act, so you can pretend to have appendicitis. Someone told me that’s really bad, and it means you have to have an operation right away. So they’ll stop the bus and try to contact our parents. That’s where I come in. I’ll say, you know what, Daria’s dad can get here much quicker than Grandfather or Mother could; he works near here. And then I’ll give them Latsabidze’s number.
The Eighth Life Page 88