Free There Once Lived a Girl Who Seduced Her Sister's Husband, and He Hanged Himself by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya

then so do I, as the author of the score.”
    “Who needs your score? We’ll put some soundtrack together!” Osip glared at Misha’s poor little keyboard.
    “Translator Karpui insists her lyrics and my music stay together,” Misha piped up nervously. “It’s a musical—don’t you get it? Every theater in Moscow makes money on musicals except you in your dump!”
    Osip looked deflated. He promised Misha an appropriate solution and pulled him into his office.
    After a lengthy discussion Misha was promised $1,500 and, for Karpenko, a room in the theater dorm, a part in the play, and a permanent position with the company.
    “What’s going on between you and this Karpenko, young man? Has your wife been informed?” Osip asked suspiciously.
    “We are getting a divorce,” Misha blurted out, surprising himself.
    “And do you actually know this Karpui?”
    “Karpui is Karpenko—she wrote the play herself. We hold copyright to both the play and the music.”
    “You can shut up now! This Karpenko and her play are worth maybe a hundred dollars on a good day. If you want, I’ll make her a janitor; we need one in the theater.”
    “Great! We’ll sell the play to the best theater in Moscow for my price!”
    “Two hundred?”
    At this moment the maestro walked in, beaming, and announced he’d never seen such enthusiasm among the actors about a new play. “I can see it onstage! And you”—here the maestro called Misha several names—“are in my way with your music!”
    Enraged, normally meek Misha lost his composure and demanded a thousand each—immediately and in dollars, not rubles.
    “Immediately? I can’t,” Osip replied peevishly.
    “The translator and I will come in on Monday.”
    “On Monday I can’t, either. Mmm . . . make it Wednesday.”
    “So on Wednesday you’ll meet my conditions, right?”
    “Look, Misha!” Osip started yelling again. “I need a janitor! Renovations are almost over; who’s going to clean up this mess?”
    A pause.
    “By the way,” Osip announced to the confused maestro, “your former student Karpenko has just returned from Finland, where she’s been working in television.”
    “From Finland? That’s where she was! Suddenly my student disappears. . . . So she’ll play Gallina Bianca; she’ll be perfect! In the first act she’s a skinny little thing; in the second she’ll have big boobs and high heels—”
    “Actually, she wanted to play Julietta Mamasina,” interrupted Misha.
    “Who cares what she wants!” screamed Osip. “Fine, let her play already,” he finished quietly.
    At the dorm, Karpenko moved into a room belonging to two girls who had been forced to move into a double, which now became a triple. The aggravation intensified as new parts were assigned. Oh theater, the snake pit of snake pits! The question suddenly arose as to why Misha was living in the dorm without any registration, while the rest of them had to pay extra for gas and electricity. Also, did Misha’s wife know what was happening? Somebody should inform her. The wife and their ten-year-old son once came to see Misha, waiting for him until the last train. God knows how Osip found out, but he warned Misha, and he and Karpenko hid at the Domodedovo airport.
    The new season opened with previews. Karpenko made sure her costume provided room for her growing belly. Fake bust, miniskirt, red wig, high boots on flat soles—comic in the extreme. The premiere was a great success. Julietta sang off-key and danced like an elephant, a model for future starlets. In the dorm everyone knew about Karpenko’s pregnancy and positioned themselves to take over her part.
    A few weeks later Osip Tartiuk stopped by Karpenko’s room. Karpenko was lying on the bed. Misha, wearing headphones, was bent over his keyboard.
    “So what are we going to do?” Osip inquired. “When are you due? We need time to replaceyou!”
    “December31.”
    “So what do we do? We have two weeks left.”
    “Let Misha do