Читать книгу The Lovers - Юлия Добровольская - Страница 13

Dina stretched out on the top bunk of the sleeper carriage. She had almost 24 hours of travel ahead of her, a day and a night. She would be home tomorrow evening.

Dina liked the road, no matter where it led: to the sea, to the pioneer camp, home, or back to school after the holidays. Yet for the first time in her life, she was boarding the train regretfully. But she couldn’t not go. Firstly, she had promised her mother, who had acquired some new clothes for her daughter for the summer. Secondly… secondly, the Inner Voice had told her, “Of course, you can cancel the trip,” It said. “Or leave tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow… But you should go today. Let the impressions settle, both yours and his.” The Inner Voice knew that Dina knew what it meant. “Don’t rush things. Calm down and let him calm down. A week is the perfect length of time to look at what happened more soberly. Hmmm? What do you think?”

“I agree,” said Dina and sighed a little sadly.

She went to the railway station and stood in line for the tickets, secretly hoping that there would be no tickets left. But there were tickets, although they were for the top lateral bunks. Which once again convinced her how right the Inner Voice was, which Dina had become accustomed to trusting unconditionally – Dina suspected that when this mysterious Someone gave her advice, he knew that it would turn out just as he had suggested. Or maybe he arranged it all himself… just the way Dina needed, always what was best for Dina… It was a daring assumption: You don’t honestly think that everyone and everything revolves around you and your interests! Well, why not, thought Dina, I certainly hope that I am not getting all this at the expense of someone else.

Dina paid for the ticket and boarded the train.

She stretched out on her bunk and timidly asked her Inner Voice:

“Can I at least think about him?”

“Of course! Of course you can think about him!” replied her trusty counselor. “The more, the better! Go over every word, every gesture… analyze what you liked and what you don’t like about him.”

Dina was overjoyed to hear this response, so the first thing she did was take out her notebook, open it at the right page and let her eyes roam over the letters KK, the telephone number, and the small heart drawn beside it. She pressed the page to her lips and sent a mental hello to the hand that had left this precious memento of the long day, which had started at eight in the morning at the exam and finished after midnight, when she had returned to her dorm room.

Dina remembered the touch of this hand on hers. And the way this hand lay on her back for a long, endlessly long time… when they danced to the Moonstone… and then briefly, but firmly pressed Dina to him…

Konstantin Konstantinovich. What would be a more affectionate name? Kostenka… My darling Kostenka… Kostyusha… Kostik. Kotik… Or simply “my darling.”

No, all this made her head spin.

The way he looked at her knees. No, the way he looked into her eyes. Yes, eyes are much better. He sat so close to her there, in the cinema, and looked at her. Then she had turned to him, and his face was so close… His eyes sparkled and his slightly parted lips were smiling. And later, he wanted to kiss her… His face was so close again, close enough to cup his face with her hands and press her lips to his forehead, cheeks, his lips… touch her lips to his…

“Can I think about this?” Dina asked, embarrassed that she first imagined it all and only then asked for permission.

“Yes, yes,” grinned the Inner Voice. “You can think about whatever you want if it’s love.”

“Well,” Dina said. “It is love.”

“Just remember that this is about your love,” said the Inner Voice, emphasizing the word your, “you don’t yet know anything about his feelings. Right?”

“Yes,” agreed Dina. “I will only think about my love for now.”

“And don’t go too far, don’t expect what you simply can’t… have no right to expect from him. Or you’ll cry bitter tears later on.”

“All right,” promised Dina and went back to thinking about Konstantin Konstantinovich… Kostya’s lips.

They were so lively, so mobile… it was so nice to look at them whenever Konstantin Konstantinovich… whenever Kostenka said something… when he smiled… It must be so nice when these lips kissed you…

What would it be like? Dina had only seen kisses in the movies. Arthur Davlatyan’s kiss did not count – he had barely touched the corner of Dina’s lips with his lips. That was when she had helped him with the first project. He had said, “Thank you so much,” and kissed her.

“You’re welcome,” Dina had replied. “But don’t ever do that again!”

So he never did, even though sometimes Dina wanted him to repeat the kiss. But he was waiting for her permission, and Dina did not like that.

“Look at yourself,” thought Dina, “He kissed you without your permission, you didn’t like it, and when he waited for your permission, you also didn’t like it.”

Valera Revyakin did not wait and did not ask for permission. He kissed her for real, but that was a very long time ago.

Konstantin Konstantinovich had also waited for permission… No, that was different – he was not waiting for permission, he was simply being considerate. He did not want to offend or upset her. That was something else.

If he had decided to kiss her, what would it have been like?

Dina did not know the answer to that question. She did not have enough experience. But she wanted to find out. She dearly wanted to know… She was willing to pay with bitter tears for it, only to find out how it feels to be kissed by her darling Kostya…

Darling Kostya?!

Yes, darling Kostya. Dear Kostya. My dear, darling Kostya.