Oswald's Tale by Norman Mailer

“What is this trouble?” and she said, “Volodya, I’ve never been kissed before.” He said, “If I had known that, I never would have done it. Who could know that you would have such a reaction?” But she was in love, so she stayed there for a little while, although she was scared to death; and early next morning, like five o’clock, she went for a walk and a little later she told herself she would never wash her face again because it was her first kiss and she had to keep it forever.
    After that summer, when she went back to Leningrad, things were not so fine. At that time, she was still studying at pharmacy school, but little by little, her stepfather began to isolate her. At table, they began to give her scraps. She had a little money from her grandmother, a small pension divided among her younger brother, her younger sister, and herself, but now, if she was hungry and bought dinner for herself two or three days in a row, her money was gone. She was having to find ways to make out. After such a bad winter in Leningrad, a lot started to happen. A fine spring followed, and a wild summer. She still remembers one night when her boyfriend, Eddie—a man twice her age—got off a boat with her and it was early morning. People were still cleaning the streets; the sun was shining; everything sparkled. She and Eddie were both in a good mood because the White Nights had been beautiful and their boat had gone out to the Gulf of Finland. Music had been playing all night, and you could dance and maybe smooch a little.
    As they passed the market, Eddie said, “I want to buy you flowers,” and he picked up a bunch, and they went skipping through wet puddles. Their city was so cheerful. But all of a sudden, she saw her stepfather walking toward her, and she had to run into the nearest entry of an apartment house.
    She told Eddie that if her papa had seen her, what would he think? He would not know it was the next thing to innocent. With Eddie it was play and caressing, petting, never any more than that. But she was ashamed of what her stepfather would think. He would probably believe she was a streetwalker. All those flowers, and out with a man so early that morning.
    So she tried to go home and sleep, but Alexander came in and said, “Still in bed? Get up!” Then he said, “Get out of here!” And called her a whore. Then she was sure he had seen her. He said, “I do not want you in this apartment. Get out of my life.” And she said, “No, you cannot throw me out.” And he said, “You have relatives in Minsk. Just go.” Marina said, “I don’t want to leave. I’m going to complain to the city militia that you are cruel and rude and sending me away against my will.” He said, “Okay, see your militia, and I’ll tell you who your real father was.”
    At that moment, he stopped himself and went out the door. That was it. She never did learn any more about her real father.
    All this while, she kept seeing Eddie, who worked for a film studio in Leningrad, Eddie, from Soviet Georgia, who was dark and had a mustache. She liked him. She did not see him every day, and she had other boyfriends. But there was nothing big going on. She was very choosy.
    Of course, she also had rough dates who would take her out for dinner, but at the end, she would manage to avoid them—so far. She just felt lucky to have a meal. Even excited. It was like you were balancing the meal against future trouble. You eat first, then you hold the man off afterward—a hard way to earn a meal. But she was so hungry, and yet was still a virgin. And she was still thinking of a white prince, a red carpet and flowers. It didn’t happen. It was always a roughneck.
    Eddie’s last name was Dzhuganian, and he was very nice. She went over to his apartment one day to leave him a note, but when she asked for him, someone said, “Is that a man with a little boy?” So she found out that he was married and living in Leningrad with his wife. And she didn’t