“Fill it out yourself,” he said dully. “I will sign.”
She didn’t argue.
By the time he made it to the club, he felt like a squashed fly and was beginning to question the fate of this evening. He hid behind a pair of sunglasses and plastered a thick layer of makeup all over his face. His shoulder ached, and his neck pulsated painfully, but eventually he felt a surge of adrenaline, recovered his courage, and the world went almost back to normal.
Music could have that effect on him.
“Man, you were on fire tonight,” Whiskas said with a great deal of respect. Under his breath, he added, “Any problems? Need any help?”
Aspirin fixed his glasses:
“Actually, Victor . . .”
Whiskas waited.
Aspirin took a deep breath. “Victor . . . can you get me a cab.”
If Whiskas was offended, he said nothing. Five minutes later Aspirin lowered himself gingerly onto a leather seat, and half an hour later he was walking into his apartment—cautiously, like a reconnaissance scout entering enemy territory.
Lights were on in the hall and in the kitchen. Aspirin pulled off his shoes. In the living room, a table lamp was switched on.
“Do you have anything to break a fever?” Alyona asked, her voice sounding strange, rasping.
“In the medicine cabinet in the kitchen,” he said, hanging up his jacket.
“I looked. There is only disinfectant and condoms.”
“You are welcome to the condoms,” Aspirin almost said, but bit his tongue. Instead, he went to his room.
Maybe she’ll die, and he’d finally be rid of her.
A little guilty at the thought—but not too much—he closed the bedroom door behind him and fell onto the bed in his street clothes. The pain and exhaustion came back with a vengeance, multiplied by the punishing set he had put himself through at the club. It would have been prudent to shower and change, but Aspirin stayed in bed, staring at the dark ceiling. More than anything in the world he wanted to disappear. Simply close his eyes—and adieu.
He heard Alyona cough in the other room. Through the walls, through closed doors, Aspirin heard something gurgle and sort of rip inside her chest. He raised his head: was she doing it on purpose—to attract his attention?
A coughing fit. A pause. Another fit. That cough sounded terrifying—could she possibly have tuberculosis? It was one thing for her to die, but he had no desire to contract whatever disease she’d brought with her.
Hissing in pain, he got up and peeked into the living room. The desk lamp was on; Alyona half sat, half lay on the sofa, hunched up, wrapped in a thin blanket, coughing and shivering.
“How are you sick? You shouldn’t ever be sick, right? You’re a being from another plane of existence.”
He was only partially joking, but she didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Her face looked jaundiced, brightened only by two red spots on her cheeks. Her nose looked sharper. What if she does actually die? Aspirin thought. Will I be pleased?
He glanced at Mishutka sitting right there by Alyona’s arm. The plush toy looked perfectly indifferent.
Aspirin went back to his bedroom and lay down staring at the ceiling. Behind the wall Alyona continued coughing, but the sound was dull, stifled—she was coughing into her pillow. Or perhaps into Mishutka.
The clock was ticking. A dog barked outside, and someone’s alarm system switched on and off. Aspirin thought of his mutilated car—he’d dropped it off at the mechanic’s earlier, but had no energy to discuss the damage.
Alyona kept coughing.
Swearing, he got up once more, went into the kitchen, and emptied his medicine cabinet. Despite a heap of nasty habits, Aspirin happened to be a surprisingly healthy individual, and his medicine cabinet held nothing but the condoms that Alyona had mentioned, a tin of breath mints, a pack of BandAids, and an unopened bottle of sleeping pills.
Just in case, Aspirin put away the sleeping pills. He wasn’t sure why. It was nothing but intuition.
The clock showed a few minutes past two. Aspirin had no idea where the closest twenty-four-hour drugstore was located. He remembered that it was Sveta the concierge’s shift; she lived next door, and would certainly have the right medicine at home.
The entire building was asleep, and the noise of the elevator seemed very loud; it made Aspirin jump. What if he got stuck—would he have to stay inside the elevator until morning?
He took the stairs.
Sveta was not there. A note on the little window announced, “Back in a moment.”