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

it. He knows the part. You don’t have any actresses who can playit.”
    Tartiuk looked stunned.
    “Misha!” Karpenko shook him by the shoulder. Misha took off his headphones. Karpenko ordered him to change into Julietta’s costume. Twisting his arms like a flamenco dancer, Misha squeezed into it. He looked beyond funny: a miniskirt, enormous breasts, a butt like two watermelons, and, under red curls, an unshaved sallow mug with a huge
schnobel
.
    “A regular centaur. . . . Well, well. Have a safe delivery. Ciao!” Osip left. Karpenko lay in bed, swallowed by her belly. Misha saw nothing notable in her swollen body. He was used to large women—his previous wife was the biggest centaur in the pack. A week later he took over Karpenko’s role.
    On December 31 the show ended at nine thirty. Misha called Karpenko’s phone, but no one answered. He tried the dorm; the line was hopelessly busy. He changed, threw flowers into a cab, and arrived at the dorm ahead of everyone else. The phone’s receiver was lying on the floor. Their door was open. The floor was wet. Everything in the room was turned upside down. What had happened here? Where could she have gone in such a condition? She had talked about doing some tests . . . He checked under the bed. There, by the wall, he found her purse. A passport, mobile phone, her medical history . . . Okay, let’s see: Nadezhda A. Karpenko, pregnant, due December 31. Pregnant? He dialed the medical emergency number. An hour later he found out that Nadezhda Karpenko hadn’t been admitted to any hospital, including any maternity wards. Misha collapsed on the floor. Suddenly he heard explosions in the street. New Year’s fireworks.
    Karpenko had dragged herself to a nearby maternity ward. She knocked for a long time. Finally a tipsy nurse admitted her. “I’m not feeling well,” Karpenko whispered. The nurse, who didn’t look too good either, announced, “Lisssssssten . . . ,” sounding exactly like Elephant, but she couldn’t finish the sentence and stumbled off. Karpenko lay down on the bench and closed her eyes. A fiery canon ball was rolling in her belly, trying to make more room. A young woman in white loomed over her. Karpenko managed to recite her lines: “Couldn’t find my papers, somebody took my purse, everything was there—my phone, my passport, my medical history. . . . Had some cash in my coat but couldn’t get a cab. . . . My father flew away. . . . No one wants us, no one. . . .” Someone kept asking her name and date of birth. “I’m an actress,” was all she could manage before passingout.
    She awoke in a large room with tiled walls that looked like a swimming pool. People in white masks stood overher.
    “Hey, you! Open your eyes,” she heard. “There you go. Are you planning to push or what? What’s your name?”
    “Karp . .   .”
    “Lovely name. Hey, don’t you die on us—don’t ruin our New Year!”
    The pain came. Her body was turning inside out. Inhuman torture began.
    “Push, push! Okay, stop fornow!”
    She felt them stab her with a knife and then twist it. They’ll cut the baby!
    “Don’t, don’t stab me!” she screamed in her stage voice.
    “Calm down. It’s the baby, not us. The baby’s pulling you apart. There, I can see the crown!”
    Suddenly she heard a low sound like a train whistle.
    “Mom, look up! It’s a girl! A real beauty! Somebody, give her salts. What’s your last name?”
    “Karpenko. Nadezhda Alexandrovna Karpenko.”
    “Finally! Now take a good look: it’s a girl—see for yourself; we don’t want any complaints afterward!”
    Eyes over white gauze masks. Laughing. One of them was holding a little baby doll, tiny, unwashed. All crinkled up, crying. She’s cold! Never before had Karpenko felt such heart-wrenching pity.
    “Rejoice, Mom! Such a big, beautiful gal! A happy New Year!”
    “Just give her to me. . . . Give her to me, please. . . . Just give her to me. . .