|
|
|
|
I live in Moscow...
The waiter meticulously pulled his pants at the knees, squatted,
grabbed the ring and with one powerful tug opened the hatch. The hostess
grimaced and shifted. The waiter looked at her questioningly, but she
energetically nodded again, and he started climbing down. Apparently, there
was a ladder beneath the floor, as he sank into the blackness of the square
in short jerks, one for each invisible step. At first he held the lid
himself, but as he descended lower, the hostess helped him by leaning
forward and grasping the lid with her two hands, and staring intently into
the dark hole where the waiter went.
|
After a while the waiter's white coat, rather dirty from cobwebs and dust, appeared again above the floor. He got out, resolutely closed the
hatch and moved to the ladder, but the hostess stopped him and turned him
around. She thoroughly dusted his coat, took the lightbulb from his hand,
breathed on it and stroked it a few times with the palm of her hand. She
moved to the ladder, put her foot on the lower step, waited until the waiter
firmly held the ladder from aside, and started climbing up.
The burnt lightbulb was fitted inside a narrow glass lampshade which
hung on a long string, and she didn't have to climb too high. She went five
or six steps up, reached with her hand inside the lampshade and tried to
turn the bulb, but it was screwed in too tightly, and the lampshade started
turning with it. Then the hostess took the new bulb into her mouth,
cautiously holding it with her lips, lifted her other hand and held the
lampshade by its rim; this way it went much easier. She unscrewed the burnt
bulb, put it into a pocket in her apron, and started fitting in the new one.
The waiter's attention was riveted to the movements of her plump palms, as
he was holding the ladder in his strong hands and moistening his lips with
the tip of his tongue. Suddenly the light broke out of the matted lampshade,
the waiter shuddered, blinked and loosened his grip for a moment. The sides
of the folding ladder started to come apart; the hostess waved her hands and
almost fell on the floor, but the waiter managed to hold the ladder at the
last moment; with incredible speed the hostess, pale from fright, made it
over the three or four steps to the parquet floor and stood weak and
motionless in the calming embrace of her companion.
|
|
