Читать книгу A Man from the Future. 1856 - Евгений Платонов - Страница 30

At noon, when Dmitry was about to leave, there was a knock on the door. Rodion Romanovich came in.

He looked even worse than yesterday – pale, unshaven, with eyes red from sleeplessness. Dressed in the same worn frock coat, in torn boots.

“Hello,” he said quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” Dmitry answered. “Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Rodion waved his hand:

“Nonsense. I simply couldn’t leave a man in trouble. Especially a foreigner who doesn’t know the city.”

He sat on a chair, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and pressed them to his chin.

“Tell me,” Rodion began, staring intently at Dmitry, “are you really from America?”

Dmitry hesitated. He didn’t want to lie to this man – there was something honest, open in his gaze, despite all the darkness.

“Not exactly,” he finally said. “It’s… complicated to explain.”

“Try,” Rodion adjusted his clothes. “I have time.”

What should I say? Dmitry thought feverishly. The truth? That I’m from the future? He’ll think I’m mad. Lie? But he clearly senses falsehood.

“I…” he began slowly, “I really am not from here. I’m from… another place. Very far away. And I ended up here by chance. Not of my own will.”

Rodion watched him carefully, without interrupting.

“Go on, perhaps,” he said.

“I have no money, no clothes, no documents. I don’t know how to survive in this city. And I don’t know how to get back… home.”

“Home,” Rodion repeated and smiled grimly. “You know, sometimes I don’t know how to get home either. Even though I’ve lived here my whole life.”

He was silent for a moment, studying the ash on his cigarette.

“You’re a strange man,” he said finally. “I understood that at first sight. In your eyes… how can I put it better… there’s something missing that everyone else has. Habit. Submission to fate. You look at everything as if you’re seeing it for the first time.”

He senses it, Dmitry realized. He understands that I’m not like everyone else.

“I want to help you,” Rodion continued. “I don’t know why. Maybe because I once needed help and no one gave it to me. Maybe because you remind me of… myself. Lost, alien in this world.”

He stood, walked to the window.

“I have an acquaintance,” he said, not turning around. “A merchant at Sennaya. We can sell him your strange clothes. For a curiosity he’ll probably give five rubles. That’s enough to buy normal clothes and pants. After that… we’ll see.”

He’s helping me, Dmitry thought in surprise. A stranger, who has nothing himself, is helping me. Why?

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I won’t forget this.”

Rodion turned and looked at him with a long gaze:

“Don’t promise what you can’t deliver. In this city, promises are worth nothing. Only deeds matter.”

And they went to Sennaya Square.