– Boy, why don't you get married? The bride didn't grow up?
Aman-Jalil was embarrassed.
– I'm joking, joking, – Ahmed laughed. – Not married yet. I found you a bride: beautiful, smart… True, I can't persuade her, but hope and wait. I said, I'll help!
– Thank you, teacher! – only Aman-Jalil found to say.
Perplexed, he left and couldn't work for a whole day because of excitement, – amused: he took out of a box made of rubber, where winter take, glued them in different places, walked, trained, knocked down with a rubber band, then tied several "flies" to the fan, turned it on, the flow of air spun "flies", and Aman-Jalil shot them "on the fly".
But the confiscation and ruin machine worked, once launched, already independently.
…Aman-Jalil tried to kiss Gulshan, but she sharply and dissatisfied pushed away.
– It's hard to explain to you, even I don't understand.
– What to understand? The child must have a father, and you will be his, or I will go to your boss, remember, I'm still a minor, and I'll tell him everything.
Aman-Jalil laughed, just laughed.
– You're a beauty! – he moaned between fits of laughter. – Parroting your mother's words like a parrot, while you – a gazelle, a doe, a roe deer, should be yourself: timid, graceful, tender. Look at the words you've learned, picked up from that one prisoner, passing on his knowledge to me every day, very smart, a great philosopher, a professor… And here you are talking like a market vendor from the central market. Shame on you!
– Me, ashamed? – protested Gulshan and… burst into tears, wiping them away childishly with her fist. – Who invited you, damned one, came, disgraced, doesn't want to marry and still lectures me.
Ignoring her tears, Aman-Jalil opened the safe and took out the photographs. Gulshan continued to sob.
– Stop crying, enough. Look at these pictures, they're real.
Aman-Jalil threw the photographs on the table in front of Gulshan, then moved to the window. He had admired the photographs so many times that he knew them by heart: all showed Gulshan, naked and in poses she, he was sure, had no idea about… Only one showed her naked partner – Sardar Kareem.
Outside, snow was falling, and rare passers-by hurried to leave the inhospitable, drafty street… Behind Aman-Jalil, there was the sound of a falling body. Aman-Jalil turned in fright and rushed to Gulshan. She lay on the carpet, holding in her hand that very last photograph. Aman-Jalil began to kiss her, trying to bring her to her senses, and then, almost without undressing, greedily took possession of her. His convulsions or the weight of his body brought Gulshan to consciousness. Seeing his face so close above her, she whispered quietly, not fully aware of what was happening:
– Is it really him?
Aman-Jalil silently got off her, bluntly fastened his trousers without hiding, helped Gulshan up, and seated her on the couch.
– It's him, it's me!… The child is mine, but you don't need to know anything else. There are things that it's dangerous to know or think about. I don't advise you to…
Aman-Jalil put the photographs back in the safe, took out a bottle of fine brandy from the shelf, poured half a glass, and made Gulshan drink it.
– Drink, drink, you're so pale, like snow, cold like ice, it's bad for you, bad for the baby, drink and don't talk.
Gulshan drank the brandy without resistance, immediately blushed, and the tremor in her body disappeared. The bad dream she had hoped for did not pass; instead, she suddenly felt the full horror of reality, its inevitability…
– From today, you'll work as my secretary. Your first duty, besides love, is to guard this office… Well, it's in your interest too: there are photographs in the safe… No film, don't bother opening it, – joked Aman-Jalil. – Congratulations on the child; it's good you left it… Listen, idea! Let me marry you off to an old man: wealthy, has his own house, you won't need anything, and no need to sleep with him. High, eh!
Gulshan looked at him, but saw and heard nothing. Before her eyes was a huge fiery sphere from which pornographic photographs shot out like lightning bolts, and in the center of the sphere, Gulshan saw Aman-Jalil's grotesquely swollen face, with fangs sticking out of his mouth like a vampire. The sphere suddenly burst into fiery, jagged pieces and… Gulshan realized clearly that she was entirely under the spell of this man who loved her, she knew it firmly, rather felt it, and the only thing permitted to her was to completely submit to his whims and desires. And Gulshan decided to submit…
"Damn it, he's turned my whole world upside down. That's why Sardar Kareem disappeared, only to die suddenly in the capital. This nosy devil's to blame. He came here for this, knowing nothing about me and never seeing me, this damn nosy one… He was obstructing them somehow, so they got rid of him… Ah! What's it got to do with me? I'll have a child, and I must think about him. The main thing is, this damn nosy one is crazy about me, violated me again, scoundrel, if that's what he likes, let him, I don't feel a thing anyway. He rejoiced at the child, so he won't abandon it like some useless thing. I'll do whatever he says, won't be worse… Those photos are so terrible, if anyone sees them, shame won't save me, I'll have to sit like a dog on a leash in his office and guard… That's what that dream was about: an endless road, and I'm walking on it, the sun mercilessly scorching, dying of thirst, hands tied, a noose around my neck held by a horse's saddle, with him in the saddle, the nosy devil, in a red caftan, golden stars scattered, holding a long pike in his hand and skewering all passing children like butterflies and beetles. Fangs bloody protruded from his mouth, somehow giving him a perpetually smiling appearance. And Gulshan followed behind his horse, her bare feet bloodied along the road. Poor Gulshan!.. I'm going crazy, talking about myself like about someone else, a completely different person… About another person… Am I still the same Gulshan?"
Two weddings were taking place simultaneously. The chauffeur looked sadly at his wife, who was seven years older than him, and at his newlywed son-in-law, thirty years older than him, and it was difficult to calculate how much older he was than his wife's stepdaughter, whom the chauffeur cast longing glances at, and hard to calculate indeed. But the women were satisfied: the widow, receiving such a young and handsome husband, the father of her child, was so grateful to Aman-Jalil that she forgave some "trifles," such as the death of Sardar Ali, a friend of her family, violence against her daughter, and even the forced husband imposed on her, at the sight of whom she felt nauseated. Gulshan, for her part, was very pleased that her husband was so old and ugly.
"Ugly! Not even a thought will come to lie with you in bed at such a mournful moment. Sits there as if he's at a funeral," – thought Gulshan, pretending to be a happy bride.
Everything imaginable was on the table. Aman-Jalil spared no expense, asked all merchants for an additional tax, and they brought the freshest, best of everything. Usually, every wedding invites the zurna musicians, an ensemble of eastern instruments: tar, kamancheh, zurna, nagara. But Aman-Jalil decided to impress and invited a brass band as well. The brass band played waltzes, polkas, and marches while guests drank and ate. During the change of dishes, for rest, the quartet played "shur" or the tarist mournfully sang a long mugham. Specifically at Aman-Jalil's request, a famous baritone, Baybulat, came and sang several classical arias. After receiving the agreed sum in a sealed envelope, he habitually put the money in his pocket without opening it, preparing to leave for his next performance, but Aman-Jalil invited him to stay. The celebrity dared not refuse, although he was not supposed to receive the next fee. Invited to the table, as always, he drank, boasted, and flirted with the young daughters and wives of Aman-Jalil's colleagues. But the guests envied his presence and forgave his little jokes: this celebrity did not visit ordinary mortals, and his fees were breathtaking.
The old bridegroom stared blankly at the people gathered in his house: all strangers, he had never seen them before, except for Aman-Jalil, with whom he had had a preliminary conversation that the old man couldn't recall without shuddering. He already quietly hated his young wife, five months pregnant, for the second day since she moved in, acting as if she had grown up here, the mistress… "And her mother, damn sluts, looks so foolish: she gazes, silly thing, like a love-struck girl at the young husband, and he gazes at her daughter. Well, what a family! What's happening in this world, everything has turned upside down: the young marry old men, I'm fit to be her grandfather, and the young marry old women, but this marriage is beyond my understanding. In the past, such marriages were only for convenience, but what convenience can this young lad have? The widow has no money, although what kind of widow is she, damn it, she's not even a widow yet. I should kick them all to the devil! Just stand up and curse: 'go to such-and-such's mother!' As for me, this devil will kill my Javanshir right away, and I'm ready to give everything, sacrifice everything for the sake of saving my only child. For my boy, I'm ready to crawl on my knees before them. But this young slut, I'll get my revenge, I've already figured out how I'll do it… And what a wedding I had forty years ago, no one then thought about a coup, what a life it was under Renke, oh, what a life. Recently heard on the radio how a famous actress gave an interview: sweetly praised Iosif Besarionis's bloody regime, talked about how everyone lives well, but when asked how she envisions our bright future, she replied that when everything is like under Renke, stores are full of goods, you can freely travel abroad… and something else similar, I don't remember anymore. I'm sure all the radio workers involved in that broadcast were either fired, imprisoned, or even shot… For Javanshir, I made a deal that compared to it, selling my damn soul is nothing."
Aman-Jalil soon led the "newlyweds" into the bedroom. They bid them farewell with laughter, greasy jokes, and vile suggestions. Gulshan looked at Aman-Jalil in fear. "Is he really going to lay her down with the old man? Does he want to amuse himself?"
But Aman-Jalil, unabashed, stripped naked and climbed into the bed prepared for the "newlyweds."
– Undress and come to me, – he ordered Gulshan. – Or do you fancy this old man? So I'll get up… Just not to give him a place, but to kill him.
Gulshan began to undress, but she felt ashamed, blushed, and looked imploringly at Aman-Jalil.
– What, does this old prick bother you? – the brazen man taunted. – Hey, old prick, did you hear? You're bothering your lawful wife. And every word of hers is law to you. Bring a small table, put wine and fruit on it, and disappear. There's a small closet nearby, you haven't forgotten it, I think tonight you'll spend it there so that the guests think you're sleeping in tender maiden embraces… Oh, before I forget: take the sheet stained with blood from my bag, in two hours come out to the guests and show it with a happy face. Got it?
The old "bridegroom" nodded grimly. Aman-Jalil frowned.
– Didn't hear, say it again!
– In two hours, with a happy face, I'll come out to the guests and demonstrate the symbol of her innocence. If the guests don't die of laughter, they'll be satisfied.
– If someone starts dying of laughter, they'll report to me, I'll help him… die.
The old "bridegroom" set a table next to the bed, put wine and fruit on it, took out from Aman-Jalil's bag a sheet pre-prepared with signs of someone's innocence, and went to the closet located next to the bedroom.
Gulshan slowly undressed, feeling unusual excitement and novelty. Being five months pregnant, she had never really known a man until now. This was truly her first wedding night. Gulshan turned off the light and lay in the bridal bed next to her lover, the father of her future child.
Meanwhile, her lawful husband lay sleepless in the closet, thinking about his son, about the immense sacrifices he would make in the name of saving his life, waiting for the stipulated time when they would come for him, and he would have to play the comedy, affirming the innocence of his imposed wife, who was not his wife, and therefore acknowledge himself as the father of another's child, all in the name of saving his…
And this shameful moment came. Aman-Jalil's men went after him and led him to the guests. The guests greeted the "happy bridegroom" with drunken, sated laughter. Pretending to be overjoyed, the unfortunate husband and father unfolded the sheet and demonstrated fresh blood stains. Welcoming cries, approving shouts, even rowdy remarks filled the air. But only for a moment did silence fall, a neighbor of the old man's sneered from across the street:
– You can work miracles like a saint. However, no saint has ever performed such a miracle, you're the first.
Each of his words was his death sentence. In the morning, the neighbor was arrested, in the afternoon he was tried with a group of "conspirators," all of whom willingly claimed him as their own, and in the evening he was shot… If there are deadly jokes, this one was suicidal.
Aman-Jalil began to demonstrate his omnipotence.
Winter and spring flew by unnoticed. Upon Gulshan's demand, her husband rewrote his house and all his property to her, and he now lived in his own house as a lodger. The widow pitied him and took care of him, feeding him, washing his clothes, while Gulshan paid him no attention, as if he didn't exist. People are like that: they love those whom they do good to and hate those whom they offend or harm, willingly or unwittingly. The chauffeur courted Gulshan lovingly, trying to please her in everything, catching every glance from her, while his wife silently envied her daughter, silent but watching their every move.
In the summer, Gulshan's mother gave birth to a girl, and Gulshan gave birth to a boy. Her first childbirth was difficult, and Gulshan was to spend at least a month in the maternity hospital. Aman-Jalil visited her, but not daily.
– A chief can't show undue interest in his subordinate, – he reassured her.
In reality, however, Aman-Jalil had cooled towards Gulshan. He became infatuated with a cabaret singer. The woman turned out to be unyielding, and it was difficult for Aman-Jalil to arrest her on suspicion of espionage and enjoy her for the three lawful days of preliminary investigation. Almost every day, Aman-Jalil visited the young detainees in prison. The newcomer was transferred to a specially equipped cell, where there was a nickel-plated bed with a soft net, delicacies and alcoholic beverages were brought to the cell, and Aman-Jalil spent three nights in the prison. Having enjoyed the fresh air, Aman-Jalil released her, even if she was actually a spy. But if the girl resisted, then she was tied by her arms and legs to the bedposts, and Aman-Jalil got what he wanted, but in that case, a queue of guards lined up after him, anyone who was free and willing, patients with venereal diseases were put at the end of the line, and the poor victim serviced everyone against their will. Sometimes the weak victims breathed their last under another sweaty and stinking body. If the scandal couldn't be hushed up, the guards drew lots, and the one who drew the lot was "disgraced" from his job. A report on the harsh measures taken was sent upstairs, and Aman-Jalil placed the failure somewhere in the area.
But Nigyar, as the singer was called, belonged to those circles where Aman-Jalil had not yet been granted access and where he was eager to enter. Perhaps that's why Aman-Jalil craved her love, admiration, her attachment. But this "ungrateful" woman refused to see him, sent back expensive gifts. But most offensive to Aman-Jalil was that Nigyar was the wife of Kasym-the-know-it-all, who had tormented him with mockery at school. Kasym worked as a compere, leading his wife's concerts, filling the pauses between numbers with jokes, humorous sketches… His wife, apparently, had told him about Aman-Jalil's courtship, and Kasym publicly shamed him, not naming names, but Aman-Jalil understood everything, he had already learned to understand half-words, and Kasym-the-know-it-all he always understood. And he always had the desire to slap Kasym like a fly, he hated this brazen, insolent man.
