Page 56 of Pioneer Summer

“It’s more than that,” Yurka sighed. He turned away, unable to bear Volodya’s bleak gaze.

“Ah. That’s good,” replied Volodya.

“That’s good?!” Yurka was astonished. “Nothing good about it! I think I ... I’m in love, probably ... I don’t know. I’m not sure. It’s just that nothing like this has ever happened to me before. And there’s nothing good about it! It’s hard for me, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“But what makes you say you don’t exist for her? Have you told her?” Volodya shuffled his sneaker back and forth along the pavement, examining the bushes, so he saw neither Yurka’s face nor Yurka’s pose.

“No. It’s useless,” whispered Yurka sadly. “She’s not ... uh, she, uh, moves in different circles. She’s never liked people like me, and she never will. Shejust doesn’t even notice me like that. She looks at me but doesn’t see me. For her, it’s like I don’t even exist in that way. But there’s nothing to actually blame her for here. Or me either, probably. That’s just the way things are.”

“Neither of you are to blame, for anything. But you know, for some reason I don’t believe she just doesn’t notice someone who’s such a troublemaker.” Volodya’s tone had changed, gotten warmer.

That warmth, and his words, and the knowledge that Volodya genuinely wanted to support him, all lent Yurka courage. So Yurka dared to ask the crucial question: “What if you were in my position? What would you do? Would you say anything, being a thousand percent certain there’s no chance of it being mutual?”

“But what would you lose if you said something?”

“Everything.”

“Come on, don’t be so dramatic about it.”

“I’m not being dramatic. That’s how it is. If she finds out, her attitude toward me will change and nothing will be like it was before. And that means I’ll lose what I have now. And what we have now is the best we’re ever going to get.”

“Is it really that hopeless?”

“Absolutely.” Yurka nodded and repeated, “So? What would you do?” Volodya sighed and cracked his knuckles. Yurka looked up and saw Volodya adjust his glasses. But not by the arms, like always; he did it the way he did when he was agitated about something, awkwardly shoving the bridge of the glasses up his nose with one finger.

Volodya, sensing he was being looked at, turned away from Yurka and said harshly, without thinking: “If I’m in love with someone, then I have an interest in making sure that person is happy.” Volodya emphasized the last word. “And I have a greater interest in that person’s happiness than anyone else does, even the person themself. And so I will only do what’s good for the person. And if that requires me to stay away from the person, then I’ll stay away. In fact, if it’d be better for that person to be with somebody else, then I’ll not only step aside, I’ll push the person to be with that somebody else.”

“But how are you yourself supposed to go on, then?”

“You just keep going the way you’ve been going.” Volodya shrugged.

“Doing everything for the sake of another person? Sacrificing yourself? That’s crazy talk ... ,” scoffed Yurka. Evidently Volodya was too grown-up after all, and Yurka was still just a child, because he didn’t understand Volodya. Not in the least. Or did he not want to understand? Or was he afraid of sharing the same fate?

Volodya replied harshly: “What makes you think ‘sacrificing’ is the right word? A sacrifice is voluntary. You don’t have to make it. But this is entirely different: you don’t have a choice. And there’s no other way out of it, either. Think about it, Yura: if you have everything you want, and you’re completely happy, but she’s unhappy, how will you feel? Nothing else will matter if you find out the person you love is suffering!” Volodya’s words were forceful, stony, each one louder than the last. “Yur, listen: if you find yourself worrying about whatyou’llget when you do something for the person you love, then you’re an egotist. And if that’s the case, then I’ve got good news for you: it’s not love. Because there’s no egotism in love.”

Yura was listening closely but couldn’t find anything to say in reply. One thing was clear, though: if Yurka had Volodya’s brains, he’d have already understood by now that what he was feeling wasn’t some kind of “love.” What he was feeling was childish nonsense. It was so logical, so simple, so self-evident!

A wave of relief washed over Yurka. His feelings for Volodya would pass. And that meant everything was fine. And everything was definitely temporary. And he’d definitely make peace with himself again, if he could just be patient.

But that would be later. Right now, though, Yurka had to find something to say to Volodya, if for no other reason than to keep their conversation from ending on such an unpleasant note.

Barely able to restrain a smile, Yurka murmured the first thing that came into his head, regretting it the minute he said it: “You talk as though you—as though you know what unrequited love is. You didn’t just come up with that out of thin air, though, right? You’ve gone through something like that yourself?”

“I have,” Volodya answered, not looking at Yurka. After a short pause he crossed his arms and croaked angrily, “And I still am.”

An avalanche of ambiguous feelings plowed into Yurka. He was overjoyed that Volodya had trusted him, overjoyed that he’d uncovered a new side of Volodya that was hidden from other people. But at the same time he burned with raging jealousy that he wasn’t the girl Volodya was talking about.

Yurka wilted. “Why aren’t you with her?” he mumbled lamely.

“Because it’s best that way.”

“But where did you get the idea that the girl you love will be better off with someone else than with you?”

“I didn’t ‘get the idea.’ I know.”

“But won’t she be better off with someone who’s willing to do anything for her? Someone who loves her so much?”

“With another person like that, yes. But not with me.”

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