Page 78 of Pioneer Summer

His face was radiant, and the furrows in his brow were smoothed away, and the ever-present weariness that had by now become just another feature of his face was gone. Yurka gazed at Volodya, lost in admiration, and couldn’t help asking if he could stroke Volodya’s hair.

Volodya nodded. Yurka brushed his fingers along Volodya’s temples and twined dark locks of Volodya’s hair around his fingers. He bent over closer.Feeling awfully shy, he asked in a whisper: “And could I take off your glasses, too? I’ve never really seen you without them ...”

What an intimate act that turned out to be, taking Volodya’s glasses off! It was so thrilling, so stirring, that his fingers shook, as though even more of Volodya was going to be revealed than if he’d been naked. Volodya’s glasses turned out to be surprisingly heavy, and his face without them looked peculiarly sleepy and tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and on top of that he squinted in a funny way.

Then those eyes opened wider as he remembered: “Oh, that reminds me: I have a present for you!”

He sat up and carefully extracted a large white mass the size of an apple from his shirt pocket. “Here. I picked it yesterday but forgot to give it to you. You wanted one, to remember that moment. Take it.” He opened the hand that was stretched out to Yurka and revealed a wilted white water lily.

“You went all the way to the pond?” whispered Yurka as he held the lily in the palm of his hand. It was light as paper and even more fragile. “And you picked one anyway, even though you were the one who was all ‘Don’t, the Red Book, the Red Book’ ...”

Volodya shrugged pensively. “It felt like it was important to you. And it ... well, it has to die anyway, sooner or later.”

“It wasn’t all that important at the time, but now ... now, it actually is important, yes. Thank you. I’ll keep it.”

They remained silent for a time. Yurka was disappointed that Volodya didn’t lie back down with his head on Yurka’s lap but stayed sitting up. Volodya watched the river, lost in his own thoughts for a while. Then, as though he’d just remembered, he shot out in a single breath: “Yura, when did you realize that you had special feelings for me? Was it back then, in the pond, when I suggested that we go swimming? When I ... got undressed?”

Yurka was terribly disconcerted at the question. He turned red and said, quietly and hesitantly: “Maybe I realized it then, but it all started before that.”

“Before that?” Volodya sighed with relief and looked Yurka right in the eyes. “When exactly? What did I do? Was it when I let you sleep on my shoulder?”

“No, it was before that. On the merry-go-round, probably.”

“Was it when I touched your knee?”

“‘Was it when I did this? Was it when I did that?’” said Yurka, irritated. “It happened all by itself. You didn’t do anything!”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Volodya bit his lip in consternation, and his gaze turned pleading.

“I’m absolutely sure,” said Yurka.

“Good,” said Volodya, finally lying back down and putting his head back on Yurka’s lap. “That’s good.”

Yurka didn’t want to restrain himself any longer and risked reaching out again to touch Volodya’s forehead. Volodya finally closed his eyes. Yurka started stroking his hair, and he felt his whole being go peaceful for several long, sweet minutes.

“Should I turn the radio off? Maybe you could go ahead and get some sleep?” Yurka asked after a moment.

“I wouldn’t be able to, anyway.”

“Are you worried about the play?”

“That’s not it, it’s just that when you don’t sleep for a long time, it gets harder and harder to fall asleep, and I haven’t slept for two nights now.”

“If you can’t sleep at night, then sleep during the day. Right now. I’ll guard you.”

“Why do I need a guard?” Volodya smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll make sure nobody comes and finds us. And I’ll also study my lines,” said Yurka, smirking.

Volodya laughed and nodded. “Let’s give it a try.”

Yurka stopped stroking Volodya’s hair, picked up the notebook, and was holding it in both hands when Volodya, without looking, took Yurka’s left hand again and put it back on his head. Yurka chuckled. There wasn’t a trace of emotion on Volodya’s face.

Yurka tried to study his lines, but he was unable to concentrate on the words. He kept looking down at Volodya’s face, admiring it, watching how his cheeks and eyelashes twitched. Yurka was consumed by both admiration and apprehension at the same time.

“Not happening?” Yurka asked quietly.

“No,” sighed Volodya.

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