in the drawer, threw a reproachful glance at Aspirin, and left the kitchen.
Feeling powerless from one of her wordless looks once more, Aspirin turned on the television set. The news anchor was talking rubbish; Aspirin switched to the music channel, turned up the sound, and felt better immediately.
The band playing on the music channel at this hour was very familiar to Aspirin. They had a tough time breaking through, because their leader went for the alternative angle and looked for inspiration in the most unusual places. But that’s one of the reasons Aspirin respected them. They played ethnic tunes on a clay whistle while the heavy metal background gave them nearly symphonic depth. It was a strange combination, but the energy pouring from the stage into the mosh pit drowned the audience in ecstasy. The band did well at Kuklabuck, but only once. They said the owner, after having a grand old time that night, decided the next morning they were more suited for marginal audiences. Aspirin disagreed, but disagreeing with the owner didn’t pay the bills.
Obviously, then, they were not suited for prime time. It was past midnight, though, a perfect time for marginal audiences.
The neighbors knocked on the wall. Aspirin counted to ten and turned down the sound. He lowered his head into his hands, feeling the physical weight of everything that had happened to him the last couple of days pushing down on the base of his spine.
Forty-eight hours had passed since he’d brought Alyona into his home. The newly born Alyona Alexeyevna, the moniker bestowed upon her by her barefoot mentor.
(One of the police officers had asked him where his child’s room was. Aspirin explained that the girl lived with her mother and came for a short visit; the officer admitted he was surprised by the lack of toys, children’s books, clothes, or anything at all. Aspirin responded by saying maybe the monster took them.)
Aspirin had to admit—he was his own worst enemy. He’d brought it on himself: the first time when he did not leave the girl alone where she was, and the second time when he refused to give her back to his camo-clad guest.
That guest whose stare made the mirrors frost over.
All of a sudden, the living room filled with music. The sounds of Carmina Burana made the neighbors bang on the wall with renewed abandon.
“Turn it off,” Aspirin yelled, but got no reaction. Grunting, he went to the living room (he was very proud of his audio system—even at this insane volume it projected a clear, clean sound) and pressed Stop.
Alyona sat in the chair feeding her bear honey from the jar.
The neighbors continued to bang on the wall. Aspirin wondered if they were going to ring the doorbell. Then the phone rang.
“Pick up the phone,” Aspirin said to Alyona.
Alyona reached for the receiver: “Hello? No, this is the right number. It’s his daughter. What? Yes, I turned on the music. Yes, he’s home. No, he was not asleep. That’s fine. I will tell him. Good night.”
She hung up.
“Angry, aren’t they,” she mumbled to herself.
“Do you realize what time it is?”
“You turned on the television, didn’t you?”
She always had a smart answer. He wanted to be angry, but she sat there with Mishutka.
The bear lay in her lap, so small, so fluffy, soft and sweet.
Aspirin went to bed.
Wednesday
Aspirin was woken up by a garbage truck that roared, growled, toppled over the barrels, and missed the target as usual. The sounds of grinding metal and the howling of the engine brought to mind a battlefield. Aspirin glanced at the clock: 5:45. He groaned.
Last morning gave him a gift of ten happy seconds when he believed the girl was merely a dream. This morning he was not so lucky; as he opened his eyes, he knew everything and understood everything and liked nothing.
The truck drove away, leaving a trail of fumes in its wake. Aspirin stayed in bed, listening to the wind, distant barking, the sounds of a house waking up. He heard movement in the living room, sounds of breathing, and soft steps on the laminate. Aspirin peeked through the crack.
Clad only in a T-shirt and underwear, a set of headphones on her head, Alyona walked around the room, moving in a rhythm Aspirin could not detect. She lowered herself onto the floor, then stretched to the ceiling, then started dancing silently, her feet flying up above her head. Aspirin thought she must have taken gymnastics. Eventually Alyona sat down on her heels,