Mare's tail

He told me about this while heavily under the influence of alcohol. I had also drunk a lot and was very drunk. But his story struck me with its dirty details, indecency, cynicism, and extreme frankness. Even in my heavily intoxicated state, it seemed disgusting, vile, and reeking of such a stench (I can't find another word) that for several days afterward, I had the taste of fresh shit in my mouth and was haunted by its smell. I am recounting this story without commentary so that you too can feel what I experienced.

We met at a funeral wake. I'm a city person myself, already over forty. I came to the village where I lived until I was seventeen to visit

my parents' graves. I'm already retired and don't have to work on Monday. But I still didn't want to stay for more than a couple of days. Other people were already living in my parents' house, and I was staying with my third cousin, with whom I grew up and played since early childhood. It was my cousin who told me that on Sunday they would be burying Mishka, my classmate.

— Will you stay, Rom?

— Mishka? He's a year younger than me. What happened, Gal?

— People say all sorts of things. Some say he poisoned himself with moonshine, and others say Mashka poisoned him. Like, if she didn't kill him, he would have killed her.

— Mashka? Is that Frolova?

— Yeah.

— Wait, Gal, what does Mashka have to do with it? She's married to Seryoga Frolov. Was.

— Rom, when was the last time you visited us?

— Not long ago, Gal.

— Seven years, Rom. Do you know how much water has flowed under the bridge in seven years? Go to the cemetery and you'll see. So, are you staying for the wake?

— Wait, so did she divorce Seryoga or something?

— No. Seryoga died five years ago. And that's why the rumors are flying around the village, Rom. Because the same thing happened to Seryoga.

— Poisoned by moonshine, or poisoned by her?

— No one looked into it. Because there's no one to look into it. They didn't have any children. Seryoga was jealous of her and often chased her around. And beat her sometimes. Well, there was a reason. Mashka is weak in the front. Around here, only the lazy ones haven't climbed on top of her, well, except for you — Galya smirked.

— So he knew about her affairs?

— Rom, this is a village. Everyone here knows everything about everyone.

— Another inconsistency, Gal. Mishka also knew what Mashka was like, and still got together with her?

— He was pining for her since school, Rom. Well, you know about that. And he never married, just waited for her to become a widow. Seryoga was always complaining about his heart. Mishka even told her — 'When Seryoga passes on to the next world, I'll take you for myself.' And Mashka is a bit touched in the head. Well, you know her, Rom. She gets a little drunk at a party, and it all pours out of her like from a garbage pail. 'My husband's,' she says, 'has a little dick, it flops around in me like a baby in a washtub. Never came from him once. Only good for the ass. And my ass is all stretched out already. I get no pleasure from sex with my husband.' Oh, Rom, I don't even want to talk about it. Such filth. Such vileness. There's this one guy here. He came to our village about seven years ago. Within two days, all the women were only talking about his dick. Shameful! Well, Mashka was the first to have fun with him. And she told Seryoga about it herself. Oh, Rom — my sister shook her head — It almost came to murder. This guy, the newcomer, a scrawny, fidgety, slimy type of fellow. And Seryoga was almost two meters tall, with fists like sledgehammers. Well, what saved this guy was that Seryoga didn't catch him. He was dead drunk. But when he's sober, he wouldn't hurt a fly. And he loved Mashka very much.

My little sister intrigued me, I'm in no hurry, and I decided to stay.

The wake was held at home. Mashka, even at sixty, was a very appetizing and attractive woman. Her sex appeal radiated for miles. Tolik, that was his name, arrived only when the closest people were left in the house. I wasn't exactly very close, but Mashka herself asked me to stay and sit a while longer. She didn't look overly stricken with grief, but she wiped away tears stealthily a couple of times.

— Rom, don't leave. Stay a bit longer — Mashka approached when I, in the cramped hallway of the village house, started putting on my jacket — You were friends with Mishka. I remember; you were always playing together.

I stayed. And when Tolik arrived, everyone who was still in the deceased's house silently gathered and left, not even greeting him.

— Tolik — he extended his hand to me, and I shook it. He responded with a firm grip and peered at me, as if probing. His palm was dry, warm, and calloused. His gaze was sharp. The hair on his head, though graying, was still thick. The haircut was short, like a crew cut. His face seemed somewhat flat, and I couldn't make out the color of his eyes; there was no light in the hallway. His nose was straight, with a predatory bridge, his lips stretched into a smile, revealing a row of yellowish teeth.

— Let's drink to the deceased — he said and stepped into the room where the table was.

The three of us sat at the table. Mashka, resting her head on her hand, looked into the darkness outside the window.

— Well, why are you just sitting there? Bring the vodka — Tolik was getting drunk and his tongue was loosening — The table is groaning with food, but there's no vodka.

Mashka wiped away a tear, dabbed her eyes with the corner of a black scarf, stood up, and left the room.

— Don't think anything. They've probably already filled your ears with all sorts of stories — he speared a pickle with a fork and crunched into it.

Mashka returned with two bottles of vodka. They were fogged up.

— Ooh, things just got merrier — Tolik twisted the cap off one and poured it into glasses. He filled Mashka's glass a quarter full.

— Don't get too drunk — Mashka looked at Tolik with a disgusted smile — Nothing's happening today.

— That's exactly why I'm getting drunk — he replied to her and knocked back his glass, draining it in one gulp.

I drank mine in two gulps; the vodka wasn't going down easy anymore. We ate in silence.

— Are you going to give me something hot? First course or second? — Tolik, with bleary eyes (I still couldn't make out their color), looked at Mashka.

— There's both first and second. Not very hot anymore. So much time has passed — Mashka glanced at the old-fashioned wall clock (or rather, made to look old, but battery-powered) — I'm not going to heat it up specially for you. I'm tired today — Mashka stood up again and left the room, then immediately returned — Oh Rom, what will you have: first or second?

— Why are you even asking? — Tolik flared up — Bring both first and second.

— Giving orders now — but it was said without malice, and Mashka, turning around, went to the kitchen.

With the hearty borscht, we finished one bottle and Tolik twisted the cap off the second.

— To Mishka — Tolik held his glass and looked at Mishka's portrait on the nightstand where the TV had been removed — He loved Mashka, and this slut was cheating on him ...

Mashka grimaced, her lips trembled, and drunken tears streamed down her cheeks — I loved him — and she downed the vodka from her glass in one gulp — I'll go wash the dishes. Finish up. No more — Mashka wanted to stand up but couldn't.

— You'll wash them tomorrow. Go lie down. Is the vodka in the pantry? — Tolik stood up and touched Mashka on the shoulder — Need help?

She shrugged her shoulder — I'll manage. I'll sit with you a bit longer. In the pantry.

Tolik went out and returned with a fogged-up bottle of vodka. When he started pouring, I held his hand — I've had enough — He didn't pour any for Mashka.

— May the earth rest lightly upon him.

We drank. We ate lard and village sausage.

— Mashka said you were friends? — Tolik looked at Mishka's portrait — But you seem older than him?

— By a year — I was also looking at the portrait of the deceased.

— But Mashka said you were classmates. Did you repeat a grade or something? — Tolik poured more vodka — And Mashka says you're a scholar.

— What kind of scholar? I have a higher education. My birthday is in October, so that's how it happened: they formed the class from six-year-olds. Their birthdays were in September. They turned seven in September, and I turned eight in October.

— A scholar. Mashka only has eight grades of school.

— Ooh! And you have more, I suppose?

— I have more.

— Yeah, not about your dick!

— I didn't finish ninth grade. They held me back. And I left school. I herded cows and worked as a cattleman on the farm until the army. Did you serve?

— We had a military department. I got a lieutenant's commission upon graduation.

— Served as an officer?

— No. I went on a business trip. In '77, for six months. To Ethiopia. It counted as service.

— Oh Rom, Seryoga told me how your mom, with him, talked through the wall in the pantry, pretending to be you — Mashka perked up — Tell us, Rom?

Tolik looked at me with bleary eyes and bared his yellowish teeth — So what happened?

— Yeah — I smiled, remembering — That happened. We were in eighth grade then. And you?

— And I was in sixth. Still a little snot-nose — Mashka answered without any embarrassment — Was he with Verka? Verka was older than you, but she was friends with Seryozhka.

— Yes, with Verka. Her father was the deputy principal at our school. A war veteran.

— He was missing two fingers on his left hand — Mashka remembered — And he limped badly. Because of a shrapnel wound. He talked about it at the club. On Victory Day — Mashka's eyes grew misty.

— So what about the pantry? — Tolik poured the rest and we drank — Hey, didn't you light the stove today?

— Let it air out a bit.

— Doesn't seem to smell — Tolik sniffed

— You've killed your sense of smell with vodka. It does. What's it to you? Planning to spend the night?

— What spending the night? It'll be dawn soon. Tell the story — Tolik chewed a sandwich made of a piece of bread, sausage, and lard.

— It was summer. After seventh grade. For the summer, I moved to sleep in the pantry. Our house was for two families. The rooms had walls, but the pantry had a partition made of boards. I had already settled down and was even starting to fall asleep when suddenly I heard whispering from the neighbors. I froze, listening without breathing. Well, I realized Seryoga had brought a girl. Who? Not clear. But he was dating Verka. They're whispering, some rustling, and I really need to piss. Unbearably. I slid quietly down from the sleeping platform, left the pantry silently, and opened and closed the door from the entryway into the house. And it was squeaky. Well, so they would hear. Went outside. Came back. Enter the entryway, close the front door and go into the house. Dad's watching TV, and mom ... Mom's not there. I drank some water and wanted to go back to the pantry. The door opens and mom comes in, and she smiles conspiratorially, puts a finger to her lips, pulls me into the corner by the stove. I can't understand anything. And she whispers in my ear — 'I was just talking to Seryozhka through the wall in the pantry. He's there with Verka Onishchenko. I was whispering so he'd think it was you. You go to the pantry, I told him you went to get a drink. Just don't give me away' — mom's eyes sparkled mischievously and she smiled, pleased that she had eavesdropped and tricked the neighbor. I went back to the pantry, no longer hiding, lay down on the platform.

Seryoga immediately — Romka, is that you?

— It's me — I answer.

— And before that — he — was that your mom?

— No, it was me — I answer.

— Don't lie to me, Romka — this is Seryoga — I knew right away it was your mom. What a mom you have! Later Seryoga remembered this more than once, and spoke of mom with admiration. He also said he almost believed it was me. But her speech style, even though she was whispering and using short phrases, was different from mine, and apparently that's what alerted Seryoga.

— Ah — Mashka perked up — This one only has one thing on his mind.

— And you have something else entirely — Tolik snapped back without malice.

— Well, I'll go — I tried to stand up and couldn't. My legs wouldn't obey, my head was spinning — Ddamn! I'll sit a bit longer.

— Oh Rom, sit all night if you want. If you feel sick, go lie down on the sofa over there — Mashka stood up — I'll fix it up now. Why are you staring? I said: nothing's happening today.

Mashka went into the other room and you could hear her unfolding the sofa.

— She loved him — Tolik looked at Mishka.

— Loved him, and cheated?

Tolik grimaced — You wouldn't understand. For you, everything is probably all at once. For Mashka, it's separate.

— What's separate? — I really didn't understand what he was talking about.

— In Mishka, she loved the man, the guy. And in me — he lowered his eyes — the dick. And me — he poked himself in the chest with his fist — she despises.

— Well, there he goes with his old tune — Mashka stood in the doorway of the room — I've told you a hundred times: if it weren't for your dick, I wouldn't even sit down to shit next to you!

Tolik grinned crookedly — Well, tell Roman how you amused yourself with your husband.

— Not with Mishka though — Mashka sat down at the table — It was you who gave me the idea.

— Well, you got plastered, Marivanna — Tolik shook his head — Mare's tail — that's your know-how. Tell it.__P