light/06

[rokuta]

But as Esenin turned the key, the prospect of a week off work began to weigh on him. There was nothing for it but to hole up in his little bedroom, steeling his thesis and stomach for another bout of getting sneezed on at MGU. To sleep and wake under the nymphs with some regularity. Or to call up Lyonka after all, so they could get a feel for the remaining grasses at Romanovo while Dunia was busy with the baby. The scene behind the pane now seemed sealed in, preserved for all mankind like a museum piece, The Last Day On Earth. The desks were strewn with the debris of the morning. Panteleev's had on it a glass of tea, mostly full and sweating condensation still, as if abandoned in the path of some calamity.

Its erstwhile occupant was up at the coat-check, extending his arms to watch the cuffs of Esenin's peacoat slide gently up his wrists, then gently down again.

"I only brought a jacket," he explained.

The buttons, having been shifted by Esenin's mother, made the peacoat as voluminous on Panteleev as a ladies' capelet. Never a slave to physical matter, he managed to look fantastic in it anyway.

"Not smart, Olegchik," said the babushka at the check counter. She offered Panteleev a caramel. "There's coming rain."

"I agree," said Panteleev. "But my colleague must provide us with a final opinion. He reads the paper every morning. Stale," he added about the caramel, and tossed it on the floor.

Esenin glanced out to the slate cloudbanks looming over the city. "Nonsense," he opined. "Sun's out."

"Curious." Panteleev stepped out of reach. "Curious... No, that's can't be right. Better check for parallax error—!" In an instant he was out the door, leaping the steps to head briskly toward the street.

Abroad on a powerful drive to regain the coat at any cost, Esenin was nearly upon him when he spotted a few Pioneer girls avoiding the puddles by the gate. Most of them leaned together, sharing a thermos, but one stood apart in the posture of all Esenin women at their finest.

"Pear!" Esenin bore down on her instead. Catching her arm, he escorted his sister under the bare lindens of the sidewalk. The other girls made no move to hinder him, only flocked curiously after.

"How long have you been waiting?"

"Dunno... An hour." Pear slipped out from under her jacket, batted him away. "Vov, you can be mad all day at home. For now just listen."

"I'm late," said Esenin. Then, realizing how odd he'd look hauling a schoolgirl past his workplace, he sighed. "Nu. What."

"I need money for the Metro."

"Why?"

"I used up my whole booklet getting us to Hunting Row."

"Why?"

"Um," said Pear. "Independent project."

Independent project. "Did you skip school?"

"Of course not! Vov, just lend me nine kopecks."

"For the Metro?"

"Mashka and Jenia need to get home, too." She pointed out Mashka and Jenia, who waved. "Don't worry, they're good for it. Can we use the toilet in there?"

"Keep chopping. What about the others?"

Pear shrugged. "They can walk."

"They can walk," said Esenin. "Yes. Understandable. Nu, Agrafenocka, I have two things to tell you, one good and one bad. The good thing is, I will keep today a secret if you promise never to bother me at work again. This isn't a place for visits. The bad thing is..." Just to tease her, he was going to say, 'It's about to rain', but lifting a hand to his absent coat pocket changed his mind about the bad thing. "Hang on."

Casting about, he was relieved to spot his original quarry just a little down the street, buying a cheburekh from a gypsy pushcart.

Esenin strode up to him with a regiment of schoolgirls and said, "Give it back, Panteleev."

"Vov! Isn't that your coat?"

"Shut up," said Esenin, shooing away his entourage. "You go. No more. Go. Go! That's it. All of you go home. You're really reaching me." They wrinkled their faces, but unable to match his eye dispersed except for two, presumably Mashka and Jenia, who retreated a short distance to whistle at the terrier tied to the pushcart. The eye then turned terribly to Panteleev.

"Hand it over."

Panteleev appeared to be having a wonderful time. He patted a coat pocket, paid the vendor with the change, and glanced with interest from Pear to the remaining girls. "Your sister," he guessed around a hearty mouthful of lamb. "And... competitiors? Hi."

"Hey! That's our money, asshole!"

"Agrafena."

"Not asshole. Oleg." Panteleev removed the coat, patted for crumbs the sleeve that passed the cheburekh, and handed it back to Esenin. "Better?"

"You—" began Pear, but Esenin overrode her with, "Apologize. Now."

Pear looked betrayed enough to actually refuse, except just then Panteleev snorted. Having lost all color, Esenin met his eye, then Pear's, and shrugged on his coat in silence.

"Please excuse me," conceded Pear, who knew her brother well.

Panteleev ignored her. Of Esenin he asked, "Am I free to go?" while looking totally uninterested in being free, or going.

Esenin was interested enough for the both of them. The one advantage of two weeks away from the Institute was riddance of his constant and most perplexing problem, this paradox of desire and what felt like, for lack of a better word, revulsion. But a revulsion that was, in turn, the most powerful impetus for the other thing, the desire. Half the time his body was literally trying to go in two directions, toward Panteleev and as far away from him as possible. Panteleev could probably tell, too. Which went back to the revulsion all over again, except it might actually be worse if Panteleev didn't know. Panteleev was clearly a sadist; it would be doubly aggravating if he were a sociopath besides.

Not without due chargrin, Esenin told him, "No," and held out the two coins that were left. "Apologize to my sister."

Panteleev snorted again. "Ogo?"

"Ogo. Seeing as you just shoved her Metro fare down your throat."

"What? Vova, just give me one little ruble, all right?"

"Oi, oi, choral society, one at a time." Panteleev put up his hands. "How much do you need, Volodya's sister?"

"A ruble."

"She doesn't need a ruble, she needs a brain," said Esenin. He glanced at his watch.

"And three Metro rides. And Mashka needs to go to the bathroom."

"Is that all?" Panteleev wolfed the last of his spoils, tossed the tissue into the gutter, and reached for his wallet. "No problem. I am very rich. Would you object to the toilet at the Institute? Hey, hey," he told Esenin. "Go on, who needs you? I'll sneak them in. Agrafena, yes? Where do you volunteer?"

"They're cutting down the oldest tree in Alexander Garden," said Pear abruptly. "We went to protest. Vov? Can we go?"

Trapped between that revelation, logic, and the blue reaches of his sister's eyes, Esenin searched for a proper interdiction. He feared he might shout, but as he gave up ground his hand kept him on kilter. His hand, hiding in the other pocket of the coat, had found the horn-rim frames of a pair of glasses. He held them like a live sparrow and told the girls, "Do whatever the hell you like. It's beyond me. Behave."

"We will," pledged Panteleev ominously. "Nu, Agrafena, what? Did you save the tree?"

Pear looked up at him. "I am not a child," she said.