Her symbolic resistance to being fully known created a tense anticipation, much like a striptease: a woman on stage removes her clothes piece by piece, only to vanish a moment before standing completely naked.
The relationship became exhausting for both. At every meeting, Anzhelica mentioned how Alexander had worn her down; a return to Voronezh was her only dream, a chance to find at least a little peace away from him.
These conversations sparked anger, although the realization was clear: the ill-fated day would come when solitude would be all that remained. The fear of this loneliness is so great that getting used to the thought of parting feels impossible. Let her run - but not from me.
A chance meeting took place today at the Park of 28 Panfilov Guardsmen, and Anzhelica invited me to the 'Korova Bar' for coffee.
The tavern resembled something from a cowboy movie. Plank-lined walls, wooden tables, and chairs covered in spotted faux fur created a rustic scene, surrounded by many paintings.
Whenever I look up at Anzhelica, she says I resemble a total child. But when my eyes are cast down, my gaze becomes deeply sad.
“You know, I plan to get a ticket to Voronezh soon,” she began, reopening a painful topic. “While I’m away, I wanted to ask you to look after Alexander!”
A silver bracelet was slipped from her arm and handed to me. “I also want to give you a small piece of myself. The cat's eye - it is my stone.”
The impulse to refuse was strong, given how few jewels she possessed, but the enchanting play of light within the stone won out. The gift was accepted and placed immediately upon my wrist. “This will be a symbol of you,” I said. “A very dear symbol for me.”
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“The only thing is, I’m afraid Alexander will be able to turn you against me.”
“But how?”
“His candor about me... the way he might expose my secrets. That is what I dislike and fear so much.”
“I already know everything about you. Alexander’s opinion is no business of mine,” I said, in an attempt to calm her. “But to be honest, jealousy seems to have taken hold of him; after our last meeting, his look toward me was quite strange.”
“Oh, that’s all normal. It’s just that you are the first woman to really connect with both of us,” she said, waving her hand. “Others thought that physical beauty was enough.”
A sense of future longing made my reply brief and disappointed: “I see.”
Anzhelica continued:
“At first, he simply couldn’t find any peace. But my explanation calmed him; there was nothing to worry about, since his jealousy is far stronger toward women than men.”
“Wow!” A wave of surprise hit me that Alexander, who had initially seen me as a mere curiosity, was now looking askance with suspicion. Anzhelica - a true sower of madness.
“You know, he asked so many questions,” she continued. “His interest was focused on what was happening between us. My response was that you were simply tired of your current life and had clung to us both. I told him I had no interest in you at all - quite the opposite, actually...”
A deep dislike for those words rose within me. It was the first unpleasant thing I had heard from her. After all, the image of her in my mind was beautiful and perfect. It was Alexander who had painted the portrait of an ugly Anzhelica.
The realization took hold that, despite the passion Alexander had so often described, he and Anzhelica could never truly become inseparable. The ability to yield or to belong to one another seemed beyond them. Their individualities are simply too strong. They live in a state of constant struggle, built on lies and mutual suspicion.
“You know, I want to return to Voronezh, finish some business to impress you even more, and update my wardrobe.”
A finality seemed hidden behind those words—a turning point in our relationship for which I was entirely unprepared.
“I love you just the way you are!” The words were my last attempt, spoken in the desperate hope that the parting would never happen.
