correct his he she mistakes. The fact of the matter was the tort was dry, dry
like an old spinster’s quim and it depressed me to eat such a thing and if
Ivan couldn’t see that it wasn’t right, then all the articles and prepositions,
all the phrasal verbs and future perfects in the world weren’t going to make
any kind of difference. He wasn’t a boy, far from it. It was too late as far as
I was concerned. Anyway, he got what he wanted, what they all wanted, in
the end. I still had sympathy for him, even then, being as he was in a place
like this, but that was as far as it went. And as for why I was here, I was
here for the bad things Ivan, but such a concept you had yet to understand.
So I forgot the door and his mother’s stinky tidbits. I didn’t have time for
that anymore. Instead I continued to count and thought of Nadia.
Despite knowing the Russian types by then, I’d been in Moscow for
more than a year at that point, I was nervous of Nadia, as one often is when
desirous and needing. I should add that she wasn’t the beauty of a
magazine, far from it. She had a striking look, the product of asymmetry
compounded by flawless skin, but there was something awkward and
academic about her, sexless one could say. What was certain was that she
gushed with youth and to that point I found her difficult to resist. I’d met
her in a fast food restaurant, the beginning of summer, her wearing these
fabulous little shorts and a candy striped t-shirt.
I wrote a few lines of English on a napkin and placing it before us,
watched as she happily took the bait.
„A majestic present of fate’ she said later in a moment of intimacy, no
longer a brag of how English was her third language!
But what was particularly eccentric was the accent. Perfect Home
Counties. This from a girl, who, it turned out, had slept in the same bed as
her sister for years because her divorced parents, who shared the next room,