why didn’t you tell me that we were having a ball tonight! I just caught the last train. I didn’t even have time to drop by Malec’s place. Poor lad, he’ll be so disappointed.’
I sent him to our room, which was next to the ballroom and the cloakroom. I laughed with Gaidaroff in anticipation of the enthusiasm with which the ‘Lion’s’ arrival would be greeted. Then Nonora appeared.
‘Can you believe it? He addresses me as tu! He’s revolting! Worse than Malec! I shall slap his face!’
‘Don’t go over the top.’
‘I shall slap him, I tell you, I shall slap him – both him and Malec! Who, may I ask, told him that we were having a ball! Wherever did you find them?’
While we were enjoying Nonora’s tirade, Radu left the room, followed by the deputy chairman and Măruica. They were annoyed.
‘Did you know that Malec’s friend is here? He won’t shut up about Malec. We can’t take it anymore.’
‘He keeps saying, “He’ll be so disappointed!”’
‘And he’s addressing everyone as tu.’
‘And he’s so impertinent’, added Măriuca timidly. ‘He called me his “little hen”. Do I look like anybody’s little hen?’
Gaidaroff gallantly exclaimed, ‘Unbelievable.’
The deputy chairman searched for a practical and discreet way of getting rid of him.
Nonora had plucked up her courage: ‘I’ll hit him!’
‘Be reasonable’, we hastily advised her.
Just then the chairman came in, looking apprehensive.
‘Guess who has turned up? It’s him – Malec’s friend.’
‘The “Lion”, we know.’
‘Why did you let him in? He’s going around telling everyone how he met Malec. He’s laughing at his own jokes, clapping his hands. He’s ruined the party.’
We were all furious, although we couldn’t help but admire how comical and bizarre was the situation Mr Elefterescu had forced upon us for the second time: it was like something straight out of vaudeville. I laughed without any ill will and promised the chairman I would write a comedy with those two strange friends.
A local girl asked me, softly and in embarrassment: ‘Excuse me, is it true that the student sitting at the mayor’s table met Malec or is it a joke?’
Nonora hotly explained the difference between Malec the movie star and Malec the friend of Mr Elefterescu. It wasn’t long before the ‘Lion’ himself made his entrance, flushed with wine.
‘It’s too hot in here, open the windows and then you’ll cool off – that’s how Malec’s sister cools off!’
No one dared make a move. The natural affability of the ‘Boss’ was disarming. He went up to Nonora and gave her a roguish wink.
‘Have you ever been with a Jew?’
The chairman intervened.
‘No politics, please, and no innuendoes. The young lady is indisposed.’
‘I’ll take care of her, boss, but maybe she’s already in love?’
The deputy chairman, polite and restrained, began a sentence with two premises.
‘Therefore, the conclusion.’
‘Joking aside, boss! We’re only students once.’
Nonora hastily put on her coat, said ‘Good night’, and left.
Radu and I ran into the street. There was no way she was coming back.
‘He torments me! He’s obsessed with that Malec of his. I see him – he’s here. They’re both insane, or else he’s drunk.’
Radu wanted to accompany her home, but Nonora accepted my offer. We waited in the train station for the eleven-fifteen. Nonora asked for a liqueur and coffee. I offered a packet of cigarettes. She didn’t seem to remember.
‘I’m bored again. Anyway, cigarettes are bad for you, and you’re wasting your time if you think I’m going to kiss you, especially without an audience or any rivals.’
Then I grabbed her hand and bit it savagely. Her eyes glazed over in dark circles; she trembled. She hid the bite under a handkerchief. Silence. Several travellers stared and then looked away from us. Nonora didn’t seem embarrassed; she smoked and filled her shot glass with liqueur. I admired her composure.
‘Maybe you also know how to kiss?’
The question hissed forth from her lips and eyes.
‘Yes.’
‘What a shame. You’ve ceased to be interesting.’
I knew she was playing hard to get. I was closer to her now than I had ever been. I wasn’t sure what to say to her. I didn’t know anything; neither how to look at her, nor where to put my hands, nor whether I should bite her again.
‘Nonora!’
‘You’re being affected.’
I spent the two-hour train journey in an agitated state, forcing myself to not kiss her, or to hold her. I kept asking myself, without knowing whether I wanted to ask, or whether the question had a mind of its own: Do I love her? I did not have an answer. But I felt very sad when my answer was: Yes, I love her. It seemed to me that a new question sprouted from this answer: It is love? And I thought to myself: No! No!
Nonora was bored, so she whistled. She told me how much I would have to change for her to like me: I would have to learn jokes, take her to the theatre, learn how to walk arm in arm with her without tripping up, speak with her chivalrously in public, without showing myself up, be self-confident, learn how to dance, have my suits tailored on Victory Avenue, give up books, end my friendship with Radu.
In the train station we barely managed to find a horse-drawn cab. Nonora was deep in thought. She spoke to me more gently than before. From the depths of my soul arose forgotten longings from adolescence, from the years when I was writing the Diary. Someone screamed inside: will power, will power, will power! My soul lit up, as if after a rediscovery. But the light was pale, flickering. Nonora spoke to me kindly and warmly. And then again grew silent.
Within me the longings swelled, expanded. I saw the whole year crumbling away because of Nonora. If only I liked her. But I did not like her. She merely troubled me.
As we neared her house, Nonora whispered to me, with her mouth very close: ‘Tomorrow I’ll come over.’
‘I might not be at home.’
Smiling, Nonora looked at me, without growing annoyed, without frowning.
‘You’re beginning to be interesting.’
I
