Page 120 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

All the same, Natalya was the one he wanted.

That meant he had to tell Nina their affair was over. He could not carry on an affair with a girl he liked second best: it would be dishonest. In his imagination he could hear Valentin mocking his scruples, but he could not help them.

But Natalya intended to stay with her husband. So Dimka would have no one.

He would tell Nina tonight. The four were due to meet at the girls' apartment. He would take Nina aside and tell her . . . what? It seemed more difficult when he tried to think of the actual words. Come on, he told himself; you've written speeches for Khrushchev, you can write one for yourself.

Our affair is over . . . I don't want to see you anymore . . . I thought I was in love with you, but I've realized I'm not . . . It was fun while it lasted . . .

Everything he thought of sounded cruel. Was there no kind way to say this? Perhaps not. What about the naked truth? I've met someone else, and I really love her . . .

That sounded worst of all.

At the end of the afternoon, Khrushchev decided the Presidium should put on a public display of international goodwill by going en masse to the Bolshoi Theater, where the American Jerome Hines was singing Boris Godunov, the most popular of Russian operas. Aides were invited too. Dimka thought it was a stupid idea. Who was going to be fooled? On the other hand, he found himself relieved to have to call off his date with Nina, which he was now dreading.

He phoned her place of work and caught her just before she left. "I can't make it tonight," he said. "I've got to go to the Bolshoi with the boss."

"Can't you get out of it?" she said.

"Are you joking?" A man who worked for the first secretary would miss his mother's funeral rather than disobey.

"I want to see you."

"It's out of the question."

"Come after the opera."

"It will be late."

"No matter how late it is, come to my place. I'll be up, if I have to wait all night."

He was puzzled. She was not normally so insistent. She almost sounded needy, and that was not like her. "Is anything wrong?"

"There's something we have to discuss."

"What?"

"I'll tell you tonight."

"Tell me now."

Nina hung up.

Dimka put on his overcoat and walked to the theater, which was only a few steps from the Kremlin.

Jerome Hines was six foot six, and wore a crown with a cross on top: his presence was immense. His astonishingly powerful bass filled the theater and made its echoing spaces seem small. Yet Dimka sat through Mussorgsky's opera without hearing much. He ignored the spectacle onstage. He spent the evening worrying alternately about how the Americans would respond to Khrushchev's peace proposal and how Nina would respond to his ending their affair.

When at last Khrushchev said good night, Dimka walked to the girls' apartment, which was a mile or so from the theater. On the way he tried to guess what Nina wanted to talk about. Perhaps she was going to end their relationship: that would be a relief. She might have been offered a promotion that required her to move to Leningrad. She might even have met someone else, as he had, and decided the new man was Mr. Right. Or she could be ill: a fatal disease, perhaps connected with the mysterious reasons why she could not get pregnant. All these possibilities offered Dimka an easy way out, and he realized he would be gladdened by any one, perhaps even--to his shame--the fatal illness.

No, he thought, I don't really wish her dead.

As promised, Nina was waiting for him.

She was wearing a green silk robe, as if about to go to bed, but her hair was perfect and she wore a little light makeup. She kissed him on the lips, an

d he kissed her back with shame in his heart. He was betraying Natalya by relishing the kiss, and betraying Nina by thinking of Natalya. The double guilt gave him a pain in his stomach.

Nina poured a glass of beer and he drank half of it quickly, eager for some Dutch courage.

---