Юлия Добровольская
The Lovers
Rimma
Rimma, an eye-catching brunette with dark gray eyes and the graceful moves of a capricious cat, was a very attractive girl. Yes, it could be said that Rimma was the only exception to Dina’s theory that beautiful people were either not real or lived in faraway places. Like Anna Magnani.
Rimma was good at utilizing the modest arsenal of makeup that the poor university students could afford: pearly eye shadow in either gray or light blue, often bought from gypsies, made from goodness knows what, and placed in a plastic black or white checkers piece, covered with a piece of cellophane, and dark pink lipstick, which she saved for special occasions. Her eyeliner was the same as most of the other girls: a black pencil from the Artwork pencil set. Rimma wore her hair in a ponytail, like Dina and most of the girls, but her hair was thicker and shinier than the others. Yes, Rimma could certainly be called a beautiful girl.
She was also very good at drawing. She had a large set of pencils in a huge carton, which opened and could be set up in a special way, so that the pencils were displayed at a few different levels, and a box with pastels. Rimma used the pencils for the usual drawing album, and the pastels for large and small pieces of black paper, which were used to cover photoplates, and which, Rimma said, her father especially collected for her from his photograph friends. Rimma Yakovleva also sang beautifully and played the guitar.
But she studied at university without any desire or diligence. Maybe not everyone, but Dina knew that it was not because Rimma was stupid. It was just that she found it boring. Nobody knew what she was really interested in – perhaps drawing, singing and reading?
* * *
Dina poured the hot water into the special infusing teapot that Vera and Valya had prepared, while Rimma said cheerfully,
“Hi! I’m just in time, as usual.”
Vera, who liked to say something spiteful at every opportunity, did not fail to do so. “Oh yes, as always, straight to the table.”
Rimma, who must have been in a good mood, laughed. “All right, Vera! I’ll wash the dishes today.”
“What wonderful news!” Vera replied sarcastically.
Rimma did not respond to that, but took out a block of chocolate and placed it on the table.
“I almost forgot – here – I got a present. I haven’t even taken a bite of it myself!”
Vera, deciding to completely kill Rimma’s unexpectedly good mood, spoke again. “So who is feeding you chocolate, then?”
“Someone,” Rimma replied mysteriously and started spreading butter on a slice of baguette.
“Someone Someonevich Kolotozashvili?” asked the horrid girl.
Rimma looked at Vera in bewilderment, her eyes filled with tears, and she threw the unfinished sandwich on the table and ran out of the room.
Valya timidly criticized Vera. “What did you say that for? You know that…”
Vera, feeling guilty but refusing to admit it, snapped back. “No, I don’t. She didn’t say anything to me personally.”
“I told you.” Valya spoke timidly but reproachfully.
Dina took Valya’s side. “Go and apologize.”
“I won’t. What a princess! It’s her fault for being such an idiot around a guy like him.”
Valya stood up and left the room.
Vera, who had learned since childhood that the best form of defense is attack, turned to Dina. “Did Kokon give you an automatic five just because, or is he making a move on you too?”
“Could be just because, and could be because he’s making a move,” Dina spoke calmly, without pausing her tea drinking.
“Why the vagueness? Is he making a move or not?” Vera persisted.
“If I were you, I would find Rimma and say sorry.”
“Did you know about Rimma’s abortion, too?”
Dina nearly choked on her sandwich but pretended that the news had not shocked her. She waited a moment and said slowly, between sips of hot tea, “Whether I know… or not… is not important… But you know… and you’re using it against her.”
“It’s her own fault. What an idiot, falling for that one…”
The door opened, and Valya and Rimma entered. Vera, defiantly slurping her tea and eating the chocolate, stared out the window.
* * *
In the evening, Dina took a mirror out of her bedside drawer, carefully inspected her face and wiped it over with a cotton ball soaked in almond milk, whose smell she had loved since childhood. Her mother had the same one, in the same glass bottle. She used a pencil to fix her eyebrows and drew a line over her upper eyelids. She then opened a round cardboard box with powder and dabbed the white puff over her face. She barely touched her lips with a pink lipstick and started to paint her well-tended nails with a pearly pink nail polish.
Vera and Valya, who were still poring over their books and notes, looked at Dina’s actions with envy.
Vera, who could not keep quiet for very long, found a reason. “Lucky Dina! Now you can paint your nails and do nothing.”
Rimma, who was reading a book in bed, glanced up at Dina but did not say anything.
Dina was quiet too. She approached her cupboard.
“Where are you off to?” Vera kept pestering her.
There was nobody to control the arrogant Vera in this room. Valya did not dare to speak up against Vera, being in a sort of subservient position. Rimma simply avoided her, like a puddle, to avoid being accidentally splattered with mud by a passing car or bicycle. Only Dina sometimes told Vera what she thought of her most flagrant violations of polite manners. But in truth, it was like water off a duck’s back, as only a more rude and vulgar person could have shut up Vera.
Without waiting for an answer, Vera stipulated. “Off on a date, I bet. With Kokon, I bet. You’ve got to pay off that semi-automatic mark!”
It must be said, Vera sometimes understood perfectly well when she had said too much. But the realization came too late, together with the knowledge that a word spoken is like a bird that’s already flown.
Vera bit her tongue and threw a nervous glance towards Rimma.
The other girl slowly put down her book and looked at Dina questioningly.
Dina, as if she had not noticed either Vera’s words or Rimma’s stare, continued to comb her hair in front of the mirror.
Rimma waited a few long moments, and asked, “Is this true, Dina?”
“Yes,” Dina replied calmly.
Vera and Valya stared at Dina with their mouths open. Rimma’s beautiful lips slowly twisted into a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Well, well, well…” she said.
Dina stopped what she was doing, approached Rimma, and asked, staring at her openly, “Rimma, did I steal him from you?”
Rimma looked down and did not say anything. Her face was a frozen mask.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Dina gave Rimma a long look. “If I don’t go on this date, will you feel better?” Rimma was silent. “Will you? Tell me!”
Vera and Valya watched this scene with disbelief.
Rimma spoke slowly. “Whatever, I don’t care anymore… It’s just that… you could have at least lied about it…”
“Oh! Lie to you! No way!” Dina snapped. She turned to Vera and Valya, who were sitting at the table, and said, trying to keep her overwhelming emotions under control: “You are the ones, who are used to living surrounded by lies and envy. I believe that we should live honestly, love openly and dislike openly… You’ve pulled so many masks over your faces, this one and that one… Then you go hissing like geese behind each other’s backs.”
“What has got you so worked up? Off you go, then.” Vera was stung but did not plan to back down.
“Oh, I’m going,” Dina said. “But the rest of you, and especially you, Vera, you ought to think about how to live from now on.”
“Yeah, we’ll think about it, and why don’t you slap some more makeup on, to show how pretty you are,” Vera kept up.
“Thanks for the advice,” Dina said calmly. “You’re right.” She took the pencil and drew the lines slightly thicker. “By the way, you would do well to look after yourself. With your old, worn bathrobes and unwashed hair, you’ll keep sitting here until you get married to the first man that looks at you twice.”
“Oh, and you’re so special that you won’t marry the first one, of course!” Vera responded.
“If I fall in love with him, I will,” said Dina, putting on her coat and tying a gauzy kerchief around her neck. “But I’m not going to open my legs before I know that it’s love.”
Rimma said suddenly, “Kokon won’t ask you, he’ll just open them.”
Dina turned to Rimma. “Like hell! I’m not going to let anyone do something to me against my will!” She forced herself to calm down, then added, “Girls, let’s not fight! I’m not doing anything bad to anyone right now, not interfering with anyone’s business or stealing anyone… And I don’t wish anyone any harm.”
With that she stepped out of the door.
Vera, always wanting to have the last word, muttered, “Yeesh, she’s so righteous that it makes me sick.”
While Valya said slowly and thoughtfully, “Well, yes… she is righteous… and she lives the right way. And does everything right. Maybe that’s the way to do it?”
Rimma grimaced bitterly. “Righteous! Let’s just see how Kokon fixes her up.”
The First Date
Dina perched by a mezzanine window inside a house standing beside the cinema. It was an unconscious urge. She had been walking from the tram stop and had glanced at her small gold watch, which was a gift from Aunt Ira and Uncle Sasha when Dina had started university. The watch showed twenty-five minutes to seven, so she had ten minutes left before the appointed time. Dina did not want to stand around and wait for Konstantin Konstantinovich to arrive, since she did not know if he was already there or not. So she had stepped into the first entrance she had seen, in a large pre-war building with a spacious and echoing vestibule, and a wide staircase with cast-iron railing.
Somebody had left the day’s newspaper on the windowsill. It had clearly been used as a tablecloth recently as it showed dried pink circles and drops of wine, crumbs, and scraps of foil from processed cheese. And all this right over the “Speech of the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Comrade L. I. Brezhnev at the XVI Congress of the All-Union Leninist Young Communist League on May 26, 1970.” Next year, she would have to take this newspaper to the reading room and write some sort of paper about the Congress…
Dina stood and watched the evening city, the people walking along the street, the traffic lights switching over briskly and cheerfully, and seemed to be thinking of nothing at all. That is, she was not thinking of anything in particular, her thoughts appearing out of nowhere and disappearing amongst the waves of emotion that came forth from the depths of her being… It was hard to describe the feeling exactly.
Dina had felt something similar when she saw her name on the list of people, who were accepted into university.
She was happy, of course. All that stressful preparation, all those sleepless nights, and the worry before each exam – what kind of question will she get? – and afterwards – what score did the Committee give her, will it be enough to pass?
But together with the satisfaction and excitement, she also felt lost before this independent new life, waiting for her in a strange big city. She would no longer have her mother beside her, to wake Dina up on time, to make food, to remind Dina about lessons and clothes… Plus her doubts about whether she had chosen the right future profession, since all that she knew about it was just the cover of a book, speaking nothing of its content, or only mentioning it superficially. It was the understanding that she had made a very important step, and that to cancel it would require not less but maybe even more effort.
She felt happiness, doubt, bewilderment…
Same as now… Of course, many girls would have given anything to be in her place. But is this what Dina wanted? And then what?
She felt happiness, doubt, bewilderment…
Yes, she liked Konstantin Konstantinovich.
Not only as an outstanding teacher: even the less diligent students left his classes, be they lectures or seminars, with much reluctance.
Not only because of his captivating appearance. Despite his eye-catching looks, there was something elusive in his manner, like patina on the surface of polished silver, which gave this external glimmer a hint of nobility.
It was not only Konstantin Konstantinovich’s sense of humor that Dina liked: if he was telling an anecdote or making a joke, it was a clever and subtle one, and he never allowed himself any slimy ambiguity that some of the other teachers employed in the hope of being treated as “one of the boys” by the students.
It was not only his erudition, which he did not use to show off but strictly for its intended purpose, to expand his students’ horizons.
Dina liked Konstantin Konstantinovich. Yet she would have never thought of dreaming about him as a close friend. Even more so, as a man.
Then why was she here? She had been invited to the movies. She had been invited on a date for the first time in her life. Not just by anyone, not a classmate or even an older student.
What if it was a joke? Perhaps he invited her and was now watching from some hiding place to see if she would come, like a complete bimbo. Or he decided to have a little fun: I’ll go with an ugly girl to the movies for a change, and she’ll think that I’m in love with her…
“Whatever it may be, I’ve come tonight,” thought Dina, glanced at her watch again and resolutely left the vestibule.
* * *
Dina saw Konstantin Konstantinovich almost immediately. He stood apart from the crowd that milled around the ticket office and the entrance to the cinema. More precisely, he was walking back and forth, glancing around him. One could even say that he was glancing around nervously or perhaps eagerly.
He noticed Dina when she was about ten steps away, and immediately walked forward to meet her.
Konstantin Konstantinovich moved so eagerly in Dina’s direction that they nearly collided. Dina had to stop suddenly to prevent this.
“So punctual!” Konstantin Konstantinovich said excitedly, stretching his hand out to Dina. “You ought to have delayed for five to ten minutes longer.”
Dina also extended her hand, which he shook jerkily but firmly.
“You think so? Why?” She asked, staring at Konstantin Konstantinovich with unfeigned surprise.
“Well,” he smiled in mild embarrassment, “to make me worry a little about whether you were coming or not.”
“I shall have to disappoint you, Konstantin Konstantinovich, but that is not my style.”
“How interesting.” He looked at Dina seriously, but the embarrassment and fluster remained, barely hidden by his smile. “Could we continue with this topic after a short discussion regarding a burning question?”
“I’m listening,” said Dina.
“We can go to the movies, or we can go to the cafe. Hmm… We can also go to the movies and then the cafe.”
“The third option, if you don’t mind.”
Konstantin Konstantinovich laughed and looked at his student even more carefully. He took the tickets out of his chest pocket and taking Dina smoothly under his arm, headed to the entrance.
“We have ten minutes to go to the snack bar. Would you like anything to eat?” he asked.
“No, thank you, I’m full,” replied Dina. “But if you’d like…”
Konstantin Konstantinovich smiled. “I’m full too. Besides, we have dinner waiting for us afterwards. You have nothing against the Rainbow?”
“No, nothing,” said Dina.
What else could she have said? Students like Dina, who lived on a study allowance, did not frequent cafes and restaurants, unless it was for someone’s birthday when they all chipped in, or for a classmate’s wedding, which were occurring more and more often towards the end of university.
They walked to their seats at the very center of the room. Konstantin Konstantinovich pulled down the seat for Dina and sat down himself. He sat, almost facing Dina, and looked at her with a smile.
“So, we had stopped on your style. You believe that a woman must be punctual and true to her word?”
“I believe that everyone should be punctual and true to their word,” replied Dina, staring straight ahead.
She observed the people passing by, the new, painted curtain that had replaced the old plush fabric, and the stylish lamps, for the cinema had reopened only recently after renovations.
“How about female weaknesses and foibles?” Persisted Konstantin Konstantinovich.
“Well, to each his own, I guess.”
“You don’t like it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“What do you like, then?”
“Me? Naturalness.”
“And directness.”
“And directness.”
“So, is it possible to live like this?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it difficult?”
“On the contrary, it’s very easy.”
“Really?” her teacher asked, still smiling.
Then the lights grew dimmer, and the noise from spectators, getting comfortable and hurrying to find their seat, grew louder. Dina’s companion leaned close to her ear and whispered:
“You have roused my curiosity. May we continue this conversation later?”
Dina turned towards him. The cinema screen began to glow. Her teacher’s face was very close in the gathering darkness and looked especially striking – the symmetrical, strong facial features were emphasized by the light falling from one side and reflecting in his eyes, as well as the very attentive but gentle and thrilling gaze, and the slightly parted, smiling lips.
“We may,” said Dina and turned back to the screen, but she could see Konstantin Konstantinovich watching her, out of the corner of her eye.
She calmly met his gaze. He smiled again, then turned to face the screen.
Later in the Evening
They reached the doors to the Rainbow Cafe by squeezing through a large crowd wishing to get inside. It was the most popular cafe among young intellectuals, and it always had live music and a lack of free seats.
Even when the crowd realized that these two were not rudely skipping the line but that the doorman had gestured at them in welcome, perhaps as they had reserved a table or for another reason, the desperate crowd did not deign to part and let the lucky pair through.
Dina and Konstantin Konstantinovich approached the cloak room, and he took the lady’s coat, then took off his own and handed them to the attendant.
Dina was fixing her hair in front of the mirror, and saw her teacher approaching and adjusting his thick, wavy black hair, running first one hand and then the other through them like a comb, and smoothing his jacket. Yet he was looking at Dina as he performed all these actions.
Dina turned to Konstantin Konstantinovich. “You were so sure that I would come with you to the cafe?”
He smiled and said, trying to sound playful, “No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t even sure if you would come at all.”
“But you bought the tickets and reserved a table at the café… I suppose you could sell the tickets to someone else, but the cafe doesn’t refund the deposit.”
Still smiling, Konstantin Konstantinovich looked down. “If you had not come, nothing else would have upset me further.” He glanced up again. “To hell with the money that I would have lost.”
Dina noted again how changeable this man’s face was, and how such a simple movement of facial muscles could create so many different smiles.
She stared at her teacher in silence, as if trying to discern if he was telling the truth or just prattling.
It appeared that Konstantin Konstantinovich did not know the answer himself. His face showed a mixture of curiosity about his remarkable student, whom he had known for three years and yet, as it suddenly turned out, he did not know at all, and disconcertion before her disarming frankness, as well as tension caused by his desire to not lose this mask of a frivolous fop, and the fear that it was the mask that would repulse this girl, who refused to play games and talk insincerities.
* * *
They were shown to the only free table, which stood in the prime location with a Reserved sign, by the huge window that revealed the glowing lights of the city. The table was also a good place from where to see the stage with a five-person vocal-instrumental ensemble.
Dina sat down on the chair that Konstantin Konstantinovich had pulled out for her. He sat opposite, continuing to observe his companion with unconcealed interest.
An elegant, sharply dressed man approached the table.
Seeing him, Konstantin Konstantinovich stood up and extended his hand:
“Hello, Misha! Let me introduce you: Dina… Dina Alexandrovna. Mikhail Anatolievich.”
“Good evening. Pleased to meet you,” said Mikhail Anatolievich, then quietly asked Konstantin Konstantinovich, “Any special requests?”
“I’ll find you if anything,” he replied.
“Certainly. Enjoy your evening.” Mikhail Anatolievich nodded to Dina and walked away.
Konstantin Konstantinovich lit the candle in the clear red holder and looked at Dina in embarrassment. “I am currently feeling an overwhelming urge to tell the truth.” He beamed another one of his numerous expressive smiles and dropped his gaze. “I didn’t pay a deposit… my friend, my old classmate, works here as the manager.” He nodded in the direction of the departed Mikhail Anatolievich, and looked at Dina. “Misha, I mean… Thus, this table is always mine.”
“Do you have a friend managing the cinema too?” Smiled Dina.
Konstantin Konstantinovich laughed with relief, finally sensing his companion’s joking tone. “No, I bought the tickets myself. Half an hour before you came.”
“I’ll say this straight up: I can pay for the ticket and dinner myself. Which I will do a bit later, so that I don’t put you in an awkward position,” Dina said quietly but firmly.
“Well, you already have,” Her teacher tried to appear offended.
“Never mind, you’ll get over it.”
“How come? May I ask?”
“Demonstrating my independence.”
“Oh my! This is serious.” Konstantin Konstantinovich rested his chin on his hands and stared at Dina. “You’re becoming more and more interesting by the minute.”
“So are you.”
“Me? Why?”
“And why me?”
“I asked first,” Dina’s companion chuckled.
“All right, I’ll tell you the truth. Although I still need to pass the state examination with you.”
“And defend your thesis!” her teacher pointed out with a cheeky smile. “I am the President of the State Committee at your Faculty… but go on! Nothing ventured, as they say.” He cut himself off. “By the way, how about some champagne? It was your last exam today! My treat.” Without waiting for a reply, Konstantin Konstantinovich called a waiter over and ordered a bottle. “So, I am all ears. Why do I surprise you?”
“Do you know what they say about you at university? Among the students, I mean?”
“Hmmm… Not all of it, I bet.” Dina’s teacher stared at her with an attentive and expectant smile.
“What do you know?” asked Dina.
“Oh no! You started it so you ought to continue.”
“All right, I will.” She paused, as if summoning the courage. “Well, they say that by the end of the course there’s no female student left who hasn’t… well, you know.”
Konstantin Konstantinovich covered his face with his hands as he laughed. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard this. However…”
Dina interrupted him. “That’s not all. Half of them are then forced to have abortions.”
“Just one small correction,” Konstantin Konstantinovich interrupted, “no bimbos… They also say that I have a child in every year level.”
“I don’t find this funny.” Dina looked serious.
“Well, it depends,” He stopped laughing and looked at Dina. “So what do you find surprising?”
“What I heard about you does not match what I am seeing right now.”
“Really? What doesn’t match?”
“Firstly, you’re not such an idiot…”
Konstantin Konstantinovich chortled. “Well, well! An idiot, but not a complete idiot! Why, thank you!”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Dina rebuked him. “You’re intelligent and have a good sense of humor.”
“One can’t look at beautiful girls with these attributes?”
“One can look, I suppose, but not at every single one…”
The waiter arrived at this moment and began removing the two extra sets of cutlery, and arranging the appetizers on the table.
“Is it OK if I smoke?” asked Konstantin Konstantinovich, as he continued to stare at Dina with the same bewildered and surprised expression on his face.
“Yes, of course.”
“You do not approve of my lifestyle then?” he asked once the waiter had left.
“What do you think?”
Dina lowered her eyes and began inspecting her pearly nails shimmering in the candlelight. She felt awkward as it sounded like she was lecturing her teacher, who was a grown man and free to live the way he wants.
“I am beginning to fear that you came on this date with only one goal, and that is to lead me back onto the right path. Hmmm?”
“Oh dear,” thought Dina. “Now I’ve gone too far."
“No, that’s not true.” She stumbled over her words a little, but immediately regained her composure. “I came because I like you.” She was silent for a short time as if gathering her courage again. “The more I speak with you, the more interesting you become.” She looked up at him.
Surprise flashed across her teacher’s face, and he kept staring at Dina.
“Just don’t think that it will be the same with me as with all the other girls. You didn’t invite me to the movies and to dinner just for nothing, right?” Dina continued.
“No,” Konstantin Konstantinovich replied gravely.
“Well, you won’t get anywhere.”
“Get where?”
“Anywhere.”
“Can we have dinner at least?” He smiled. “I’m starving.”
Dina felt the tension drain away from his easy transition from a serious to joking tone, and said:
“Yes, we can have dinner.”
“Shall we start then? Bon appetit.”
“Bon appetit.”
They began eating their salads.
Konstantin Konstantinovich suddenly stopped. “Oh! The champagne! Where is our champagne?” he called to the waiter.
The waiter apologized and immediately returned with a bottle in an ice bucket, opened it in one smooth movement, with only a short hissing pop and some light smoke from the cork, and filled their glasses, again wishing them a pleasant meal.
Konstantin Konstantinovich lifted his glass. “To you, Dina… Aleksandrovna. Congratulations on completing fourth year.”
“Thank you, Konstantin Konstantinovich.” Dina took a sip of the sparkling wine and placed the glass back on the table.
Konstantin Konstantinovich continued to devour his salad and very soon finished it all, even picking up the crumbs. Dina ate a little lazily, as if she was not hungry at all.
“Do you smoke?” asked Konstantin Konstantinovich, taking out a cigarette.
“Sometimes,” said Dina.
He extended a packet of Capital cigarettes towards her. “Please.”
Without replying, Dina took a flat brown packet of imported ladies’ cigarettes from her handbag, took one out, and brought it to her lips.
Konstantin Konstantinovich, expressing admiration by kinking his eyebrow, lit a match for her.
Dina smoked by barely inhaling and releasing the smoke as an impressive thin trickle that drifted upwards.
Music started playing as the musicians returned to the stage after a break. They were all quite young, with slightly longer hair than what was allowed by the unwritten rules for Komsomol youth – and there was no other kind of youth in the country – but musicians were probably permitted these liberties, in order to create a stage image. Two of them had handlebar mustaches, with a pair of tinted Diplomat glasses perched on the nose of one, while one of the clean-shaven guys was wearing skin-tight, white, completely white, pants. Jeans were only starting to become fashionable and were a rarity, accessible only to the “golden youth,” who found money who knows where for foreign clothes and expensive restaurants. White jeans were exceedingly exotic.
“We hadn’t finished our conversation,” said Konstantin Konstantinovich when Dina looked away from the stage and began to extinguish her cigarette in the ashtray.
She glanced in surprise at her companion.
“Have you said everything that you wanted to say about my person?”
“Yes, everything,” Dina replied.
“Let me summarize. I am an idiot.”
“Stop, that’s not what I wanted to say.” Dina tried to interrupt Konstantin Konstantinovich.
“Wait, wait, wait!” he waved at her. “I am an idiot, but, luckily, not a complete idiot. I’m a womanizer. An incurable womanizer, it seems. On the other hand, I appear to have some rudiments of intellect and a good sense of humor. This is what surprised you the most.” He looked at Dina with a smile.
Dina lowered her eyes to her plate and inspected the green pea stuck on her fork: when and why did she do that?
“Why are you silent now? That’s exactly what you said to me.”
She looked at Konstantin Konstantinovich and said firmly, “All right. That’s exactly what I said.”
“Well, then,” he laughed. “Does that mean that I have grown a little in your eyes?”
“I suppose.”
“Excellent! From this moment on, I will do everything in my power to if not score more points, at least avoid losing the ones I’ve gained.” He picked up his glass. “Hmmm?”
Dina raised her glass in silence.
“Well, then,” repeated her teacher. “Now it is my turn to express my surprise. May I?”
“Please,” replied Dina.
“Can I be honest?”
“As much as is possible for you.”
Konstantin Konstantinovich chuckled at these words and continued, “I understood that you were clever over the three years that I have been teaching your group. I only began to realize that you are beautiful, today, at the exam.”
“You’re joking,” Dina interrupted.
Konstantin Konstantinovich shook his head in disagreement. “And I am further persuaded with every passing minute.” His voice changed and started to vibrate slightly with emotion.
“Don’t,” Dina spoke up in the short pause. “I’m far from Rimma Yakovleva and those other beauties.”
Konstantin Konstantinovich got himself under control and continued, “You have correctly pointed out about the beauties. A ‘beauty’ and a beautiful woman are two different things. Didn’t you know?”
Dina started examining her nails again, now trying to get her flustered emotions under control.
“Indeed, you weren’t one of those beauties, at least, according to my classification. I saw in you a bookworm, a bluestocking, and a future career woman.”
Dina looked up at him with interest.
“Today, as you might have noticed, I realized that you have very attractive legs.” He smiled. “But when you put me in my place with just a look, it made me study your more closely.” Now Konstantin Konstantinovich’s emotions were reflected in how much his eyes shone. He took a drag of his cigarette. “And now,” he exhaled. “I can’t stop being surprised.”
