excerpt
He pondered why his father who had been a Party member, an administrative commissar, had not taught his son this valuable lesson. Some people knew how to get things done: how to bribe, how to barter, how to curry favour. Funny that the knowledge seemed to come naturally to schoolchildren. It’s not something I was ever taught in school, he thought. Still, he couldn’t really complain; things had worked out for him. Once he had achieved this valuable post serving the public, he had also acquired a lover.
For a moment, the twin passions of sex and injustice overcame him, and he leaned into the curve, pedalling furiously, a red flush rising on his face. “I deserve a car. Tanya and I deserve a car.”
After a while, he slowed once more and cycled methodically. He frowned. It seemed these same, repetitive, cursed thoughts would never leave his head. Perhaps it was just as well, for in the rare moments that he was satiated with Tanya and allowed his thoughts to wander, another powerful thought almost overcame him. Fear. Raw, stuttering fear. Last summer, he had screwed a precocious, local teenager, a fine girl of sixteen. He had been fearful of discovery then, even though half the men in the village were also enjoying her favours. He shrugged. But this year he had upped the stakes considerably by making out with Tanya, the wife of Alexey Ivanovich, the police chief.
Once, in the market square, he had watched the police chief kick a dog. It was a cur, a mean, miserable thing that was harassing the weary vendors who were standing there with their pitiful cows’ heads and potatoes for sale. Some of the vendors had yelled at it; one even threw a stone. But it took a swift, decisive kick from the police chief to put the dog into the dirt. It lay there whining for hours. No one dared go near it, thinking that Alexey Ivanovich would put it out of its misery. But he didn’t.
Generally, the public official didn’t let these thoughts gain access to his consciousness. Occasionally the fear would intrude. Only a little bit. Only enough to make him cautious, very cautious. When he allowed the fear, he always thanked the fates that he had such a magnificent vehicle as a bicycle. It was less easily traced. He could ride across the field paths instead of through town, stash the bicycle under a bush, and enter Tanya’s yard on foot at night, hiding in the shadow of the rowan trees. They didn’t do it at the police chief’s house, although sometimes they started there, teasing and kissing.
Libros Libertad 