The Librarian

AT HOME

THAT EVENING BROUGHT yet another unpleasant conversation with Margarita Tikhonovna. Towards the end I worked myself up to a screaming whisper yet again. My nerves were shattered after the events of recent days. For half a day I had been running through past events time and time again in my memory, polishing them to a perfect, rounded state of terror. An entire appalling, hostile world was reflected in this convex, distorted perspective.

I kept asking Margarita Tikhonovna to let me go, but she patiently reminded me of our previous agreement, of which I had fulfilled only half: the Book of Memory had not yet been read.

I tried to persuade her that no Book would ever change my decision. Margarita Tikhonovna smiled meekly and assured me that destiny itself had appointed me a librarian.

“But Margarita Tikhonovna, you know I’m simply not ready to take my uncle’s place here with you. I’m a perfectly ordinary person. I don’t possess any special strength or courage. You have a mature collective; choose a new librarian for yourselves…” I appealed to logic and flattery. “Why shouldn’t you take the Shironin reading room into your own hands, Margarita Tikhonovna? You’re an excellent leader; everyone respects you. You are the most appropriate candidate for my uncle’s position,” I said falteringly, rubbing my sticky palms together. “If my Uncle Maxim could express his opinion, he would definitely prefer you.”

“That won’t work, my boy. I shall die soon…” said Margarita Tikhonovna, shattering my hopes. “Breast cancer—and don’t look at me with that clumsy expression of sympathy on your face. I’ve got six months left. A year at most. The most optimistic prognoses…”

I almost said that she could be the librarian for six months, and then the Shironinites could choose another one, that foundry worker Kruchina or the traumatologist Dezhnev, but I suddenly felt that would sound too cynical. So I said nothing and stared drearily out of the window, watching the white scar that a plane had scraped across the sky, as if with a fingernail.

“My heart aches for the Shironin reading room,” Margarita Tikhonovna continued meanwhile. “As long as Maxim Danilovich was alive, the problem didn’t exist. And my own position was perfectly clear too—I would have served the reading room right to the end, and departed when my time came. I wanted very badly to find a worthy replacement. Something told me that you would be a genuine librarian, like your uncle. Please, first read the Book…”

After all the beating around the bush, we had come back to where we started. Margarita Tikhonovna cut short my whinging by saying that at the moment it wasn’t safe for me to travel to Ukraine; there were many forces interested in getting even for the Gorelov librarian Marchenko, and from every point of view it would be better if I stayed here, under the protection of the reading room’s members.

She certainly knew the right point to apply pressure to. I immediately fell silent, remembering that Marchenko was not merely some mythical librarian, but also a murderer.

“And I would recommend you not to leave the apartment in general,” Margarita Tikhonovna concluded in an pitilessly formal tone, and at the top of her voice, so that everyone heard.

The readers started coming into the room from the kitchen— Tanya, Fyodor Ogloblin, Marat Andreyevich and Timofei Stepanovich.

“Not even to go to the shop?” I asked cautiously.

“Of course not,” Margarita Tikhonovna confirmed. “Especially since our reading room has been weakened. And to be quite honest, it will be much easier for us and we will feel less anxious if you are at home, with the Book.”

“But how long will this go on?”

Margarita Tikhonovna shrugged.

“About three weeks. Perhaps a month. One of us will be on duty round the clock, but in order to venture outside one bodyguard is not enough. It would be preferable for you to be accompanied by three people at least.”

“Alexei Vladimirovich, I don’t understand: why do you need to go out anywhere?” Tanya suddenly asked. “We’ll buy everything you need, I’ll cook for you… I’m a good cook. And I’ll tidy up the apartment!”

“Don’t worry about money!” Margarita Tikhonovna added. “We take responsibility for your financial problems.”

This suggestion met with a positive response.

“That’s how we do things here,” said Timofei Stepanovich. “Come what may, we won’t let our librarian go hungry! So you don’t need to worry about that, Alexei!”

“We don’t guarantee black caviar every day, but we can manage a perfectly respectable standard,” Ogloblin promised.

Margarita Tikhonovna was pleased by the general support.

“Really, Alexei, it will be more convenient for you, and when you need it our girls will come and cook and tidy up.”

Apparently what they had in store for me was indefinite house arrest with full board.

In the corridor I checked the phone just for luck and heard the long-awaited dial tone, which set my heart fluttering, although it was too late to call the militia.

“Have they connected it?” Margarita Tikhonovna asked. “That’s excellent. I was thinking we’d have to camp here like gypsies to guard you, but if the phone’s working then Timofei Stepanovich will be enough for today. You have a stout door here; you couldn’t break it down with a canon. I don’t believe they are likely to launch a frontal attack, but it’s best to take precautions. Let me write down our phone numbers for you. God forbid that anything should happen, but if it does—we’ll be here in ten minutes,” she laughed. “We’ll beat off any assailant…”

I saw that the Shironinites, despite their sorrow, were always trying to lift my spirits.

“Well, Margarita Tikhonovna… Don’t forget now,” Timofei Stepanovich drawled. “Alexei has shown what he’s capable of. The two of us together will see off anyone you like without any help. Isn’t that right, Alexei? We’ll see them off? Come on, answer me!”

“Yes, Timofei Stepanovich,” I said, reluctantly supporting this bravado.

Everyone prepared to go. The warmness with which the Shironinites took their leave both astounded and horrified me, although I tried not to show it. It was clear that these people really did need me.