sweat ran along their shoulders and breasts and dripped onto the floor.
“Are you ready for the gallery?” Rosa smiled in a way that made Anna curious. They approached the last door together. A wave of hot, moist air took Anna’s breath away and scorched her lungs. A lightbulb illuminatedthe square room, in which there were three tiers of benches, the highest tier right under the ceiling. In this chamber there was only one other person, a woman of extravagant proportions, snoring in her sleep. Anna and Rosa chose the middle tier and sat there for a while in silence, trying to get used to the climate.
“So how are things going for you, Comrade?”
Anna waited until the moisture on her nose formed a droplet and fell onto her knee. “I miss my husband.”
“How much time does he have left?”
“You say that as if he were serving a jail sentence.”
Rosa lay down at full length on her stomach. “I say that because I know you know the exact day when his time is up.”
“His year on Sakhalin ends in March. Then he gets a six-day vacation.” Anna leaned back against the stone wall. Her towel slipped off her breasts, and Anna spread it out under her.
Rosa put a hand on Anna’s thigh. “Look at it this way: At that point, your situation will be settled. Leonid will get an official right of abode for Moscow, and you’ll finally be allocated an apartment.”
“Papa will be happier than anybody else when we leave him in peace inside his own four walls.”
“Without you, your father wouldn’t have any more walls at all. And furthermore, his books would be—”
Knowing what was coming next, Anna interrupted her with a gesture. “Viktor Ipalyevich isn’t a nanny. He needs concentration for his work.”
Rosa grinned. “Is there a selflessness medal? If there is, you ought to get nominated for it.”
“I’m not selfless,” Anna replied. “I’m anything but that.”
The pipe behind them roared and steam, coming from the opening in bursts, enveloped them. The fat woman heaved a noisy sigh, rolled off her bench, and disappeared outside. The bath attendant passed with a small bucket and sprinkled water on the hot stones.
“And how is the Deputy Minister?”
Anna watched the attendant until she was out of sight. Then she said, “Alexey is wrestling with his ghosts.”
“Which ones this time?”
“The demons of the Five-Year Plan. The Deputy Minister finds the figures that the CC plans to publish …” Anna waved one hand, slowly. “Too optimistic.”
“Who believes figures? Everybody knows they’re a fetish with Kosygin. He’ll just give a pretty speech.” She leaned forward, spread her legs, and slid to the step below her. “If that’s all Bulyagkov has to worry about, he’s in an enviable position.”
Anna said softly, “He hates his job.”
This remark made Rosa sit up and take notice. “What makes you think so?”
“He’s never told me a single pleasant story about the Ministry. You know, the sort of thing you hear on the news. He’s got the power to influence the scientific life of our country, and it doesn’t seem to mean anything to him.”
Rosa sat in pensive silence for a few seconds. Then she said, “He’s like all men.” She smiled. “When they go home in the evening, they like to gripe to their wives about their work. Bulyagkov, apparently, does the same thing with his lover.”
Anna shrugged her shoulders.
“I think you’re just about hard-boiled now, my dear. When I came here for the first time, I couldn’t take more than five minutes in the gallery.”
Rosa was dripping out of every pore, Anna noticed, while her own skin seemed only a little damp. She said, “Those of us in construction are used to tougher conditions than you in your chic editorial offices. In summer, I often have to work for hours in attics and dormers where the temperature must be one hundred and twenty degrees.”
Rosa took up one of the bundles of twigs, signaled to Anna to turn over,
“Are you ready for the gallery?” Rosa smiled in a way that made Anna curious. They approached the last door together. A wave of hot, moist air took Anna’s breath away and scorched her lungs. A lightbulb illuminatedthe square room, in which there were three tiers of benches, the highest tier right under the ceiling. In this chamber there was only one other person, a woman of extravagant proportions, snoring in her sleep. Anna and Rosa chose the middle tier and sat there for a while in silence, trying to get used to the climate.
“So how are things going for you, Comrade?”
Anna waited until the moisture on her nose formed a droplet and fell onto her knee. “I miss my husband.”
“How much time does he have left?”
“You say that as if he were serving a jail sentence.”
Rosa lay down at full length on her stomach. “I say that because I know you know the exact day when his time is up.”
“His year on Sakhalin ends in March. Then he gets a six-day vacation.” Anna leaned back against the stone wall. Her towel slipped off her breasts, and Anna spread it out under her.
Rosa put a hand on Anna’s thigh. “Look at it this way: At that point, your situation will be settled. Leonid will get an official right of abode for Moscow, and you’ll finally be allocated an apartment.”
“Papa will be happier than anybody else when we leave him in peace inside his own four walls.”
“Without you, your father wouldn’t have any more walls at all. And furthermore, his books would be—”
Knowing what was coming next, Anna interrupted her with a gesture. “Viktor Ipalyevich isn’t a nanny. He needs concentration for his work.”
Rosa grinned. “Is there a selflessness medal? If there is, you ought to get nominated for it.”
“I’m not selfless,” Anna replied. “I’m anything but that.”
The pipe behind them roared and steam, coming from the opening in bursts, enveloped them. The fat woman heaved a noisy sigh, rolled off her bench, and disappeared outside. The bath attendant passed with a small bucket and sprinkled water on the hot stones.
“And how is the Deputy Minister?”
Anna watched the attendant until she was out of sight. Then she said, “Alexey is wrestling with his ghosts.”
“Which ones this time?”
“The demons of the Five-Year Plan. The Deputy Minister finds the figures that the CC plans to publish …” Anna waved one hand, slowly. “Too optimistic.”
“Who believes figures? Everybody knows they’re a fetish with Kosygin. He’ll just give a pretty speech.” She leaned forward, spread her legs, and slid to the step below her. “If that’s all Bulyagkov has to worry about, he’s in an enviable position.”
Anna said softly, “He hates his job.”
This remark made Rosa sit up and take notice. “What makes you think so?”
“He’s never told me a single pleasant story about the Ministry. You know, the sort of thing you hear on the news. He’s got the power to influence the scientific life of our country, and it doesn’t seem to mean anything to him.”
Rosa sat in pensive silence for a few seconds. Then she said, “He’s like all men.” She smiled. “When they go home in the evening, they like to gripe to their wives about their work. Bulyagkov, apparently, does the same thing with his lover.”
Anna shrugged her shoulders.
“I think you’re just about hard-boiled now, my dear. When I came here for the first time, I couldn’t take more than five minutes in the gallery.”
Rosa was dripping out of every pore, Anna noticed, while her own skin seemed only a little damp. She said, “Those of us in construction are used to tougher conditions than you in your chic editorial offices. In summer, I often have to work for hours in attics and dormers where the temperature must be one hundred and twenty degrees.”
Rosa took up one of the bundles of twigs, signaled to Anna to turn over,
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