Memoir of a Russian Punk

5

After taking care of the spot, Eddie decides that he might as well iron his dress trousers for the evening, just in case he and Svetka do go to Sashka Plotnikov's after all. Remembering Svetka, the evening, and his dress trousers, Eddie-baby realizes with dismay that he still doesn't have the money. He sticks his hand in his jacket pocket and counts the rubles and change there: 46 rubles and 75 kopecks, one-fifth of the sum he needs.

As a consequence of the despair that suddenly overwhelms him, Eddie doesn't feel like doing anything, but after wandering around the empty apartment for a few minutes – neither his mother nor their neighbors are there, a fact that would normally cheer him – he gradually calms down. He realizes that it's not even twelve and that he's supposed to pick Svetka up at eight, which means he has over eight hours left. He'll think of something in the meantime.

For a start, Eddie ransacks the room, opening the bureau and digging around in his mother's blouses and Veniamin Ivanovich's military tunics and shirts and in his raincoat and winter coat. All he manages to turn up is four rubles, which he adds to the money he got at the cafeteria. "Cocksuckers!" Eddie-baby swears out loud. If it weren't for that safe, he wouldn't have anything to worry about now, and besides spending the evening at Sashka Plotnikov's, he could take Svetka several times to the Theatergoer downtown, where the music is good and the waiters let minors in. The first time Eddie went to the Theatergoer was with Red Sanya. Where did they get the ridiculous habit of keeping their money in a safe! Usually the managers or cashiers simply hide the money they take in after the regular evening visit of the bank messengers (who only work until six, according to Kostya), stashing it somewhere inside the store. Most of the time they put it in the bottom of an empty or partly empty cardboard box. Now, however, they've started using the fucking safes more and more.

Eddie goes out into the hallway, where the neighbors' coats are hanging behind a white curtain – just Uncle Kolya's and his wife Lidka's, since Major Shepotko doesn't keep his greatcoat in the hallway – and rummages through their pockets. Nothing, unfortunately. "And what did you expect anyway – to find two hundred rubles in Uncle Kolya's coat pocket?" Eddie thinks in irritated disappointment. Uncle Kolya drinks and sometimes leaves cash in his pockets, but not two hundred rubles.

Moving several pots from their own kitchen table onto Major Shepotko's, Eddie-baby spreads out an old army blanket he has brought from the other room and starts ironing his dress trousers. As he guides the iron he thinks about what he will do.

"Svetka's really dumb," Eddie decides. "What does she want to go to Sashka Plotnikov's so much for anyway? It'll just be a bunch of phonies who'll spend the evening acting phony with each other." Eddie finds them boring, and if it weren't for Svetka, he wouldn't go. No, he wouldn't go, although it's quite possible that Asya will also be there. She hasn't decided yet.

"My mother's really something too," Eddie thinks. On the one hand, she wants him to associate with Plotnikov and his crowd, and on the other, she won't give him any money, as a punishment. The contradiction is idiotic. Hanging out with any other crowd would require a lot less money, since nobody besides Sashka and his friends would expect you to chip in 250 rubles per couple. They drink brandy and champagne and buy the girls fruit and chocolate for dessert. "Fucking aristocrats!" Eddie thinks, and frowns. He doesn't like dessert and automatically holds in contempt anybody who does, demoting them to the rank of women. Sashka Plotnikov likes chocolate.