Two weeks had passed.
The New Year's fireworks over Arkhankelsk had long been gone; the drunken accordionist from the main city square no longer played his merry songs by the Christmas tree which was already being dismantled. The Christmas lights and ornaments had been taken off and packed into its boxes until the next New Year, and the formerly beautiful domestic Christmas trees that had recently been glowing and sparkling with their colored lights and tinsel so amazingly and admired in every household - now were blatantly stripped and thrown out in the garbage like miserable dumped girlfriends.
It was a sad sight, needless to say.
The holidays were over; and the jolly parties in Saltikov's rented apartment were over, too. All the guys had gone about their business: the graduates were back to work, the students had dived into their midterms, and due to that their attention for Yana had tapered off. Lacking for male companionship, Yana felt now more bored than ever, so she started thinking about going back to Moscow.
"Listen, Yankee," Saltikov said to her on a Saturday morning when Olive had went out for some groceries,"Try to talk Pumpkin into going with you."
"Can't you do it yourself?" said Yana with a grunt, as she packed up her belongings.
"Oh, Yankee..." Saltikov paused, "I think you'll have better luck."
"What do you think I am supposed to tell her? That I need an escort on the train? Don't be ridiculous!"
"Well, make something up... The main thing is now to take her away from Arkhangelsk; and later I will meet you in SPB, like we said. Or I will come to see you in Moscow, and we'll go from there."
Yana averted her eyes.
"Then what? Did you think how I could look her in the eye after that?"
"Come on, Yankee! It's not a big deal..."
"According to you, Saltikov, nothing is a big deal." said Yana shrugging her shoulders, "So far I haven't said yes or no to you, have I?"
"I mean, why complicate it, Yankee?"
"Okay, let's go this way," she decided, "Now I'm going to the bookshop, and after I will take a walk through the mall. In the meantime you talk to Olive yourself. Then, and only then it will make sense to plan something."
Soon after the door closed on Yana, Olive came back from the grocery store. Having handed the bags to Saltikov she embraced his strong torso, breathing in his bittersweet body odor - the one and only smell she could recognize out of a million with her eyes closed. He smelt like hay, pine resin and meadow grass. Actually it was just his sweat mixed with Hugo Boss cologne and Winston cigarette smoke. However, Olive loved his smell passionately. As it's justly said, the men we love have all the best smells in the world.
"I bought some chicken," she said kissing Saltikov's mouth,"Today I'm going to make my special soup. It just takes a handful of rice and a bulb of garlic to make the taste just incredible! Your taste buds will dance and sing, really!"
"Soup sounds nice," he replied with a forced smile,"But, you know, Pumpkin, you had better roast that chicken..."
"Why don't you want the soup? We would eat the roast chicken in one sitting; and the soup can last up to three days."
"That's the reason why we can't have your soup," he said with a sour note in his voice. Olive caught that note and it made her anxious.
"Why?" she asked sitting down on the couch.
"You see, Pumpkin," mumbled Saltikov hiding his eyes, "I've got some trouble to deal with at the moment... I mean, I think you should go to Moscow with Yana and stay at your mum's for a little while... I'm sorry, but..."
The vivid smile slowly disappeared from Olive's face. Her features sunk and faded, and Saltikov suddenly noticed the first signs of aging in her.
"Wait... Wait, but you rented this apartment on a long-term basis! Didn't you?"
'Yes, but..." Saltikov hesitated, "You understand, Pumpkin, I just figured something out... We can't afford moving in together right now... So far we can't..."
"There you go again!" Olive breathed out rolling her eyes, "If you want to get rid of me, just say so."
"I don't want to get rid of you, Pumpkin."
"Then what?" she grunted, "Please don't give me the "we could stay friends" speech. We were friends until the SPB's affair. I told you not to do it, I knew it would end this way. You never listened. Mind you, it wasn't me making a move on you, it was you making a move on me!"
"You see, Pumpkin, back then things seemed so much easier than now..."
"So what has changed? Have you fallen out of love with me? Or you have met someone else? You should've just said that!"
"No, Pumpkin, I love you very much, but, you know, feelings fade away over time... There's no helping it. If we move in together, domestic life will just kill our love completely."
"Bullshit!" cried Olive, "People get married and have kids - how come they aren't afraid that domestic life may kill their feelings? Just tell me straight out what's going on. Can't I see you've simply gone cold on me?"
"Call it whatever you want, Pumpkin." said Saltikov wearily, "Maybe you are right, but I do love you. Perhaps not the way I did last summer and fall. But I still do!"
"Yet I don't feel it," Olive said bitterly, "If you love me, here's your chance to prove it! But no, you are sending me away because your fucking business and your own well-being are much more important to you than I am! Whatever happened to your big love for me, eh?"
Saltikov sighed a heavy sigh.
"You don't understand me, Pumpkin..."
"There's nothing to understand."
The chicken in the bag began to thaw forming a dirty brown puddle on the linoleum floor. Olive forgot about it; she followed Saltikov into the lounge room not even taking her shoes off.
"I'm asking you to wait a year and a half." he said.
"No."
"Okay, half a year! Only half a year, no more! You can come over in summer."
"No."
"Well, a few months! Just a few months..."
"No. And stop haggling, you're not the buyer!"
Saltikov went silent. She was dead set on it. "As stubborn as a mule," he said to himself.
"You don't seem to have the slightest idea what a horrible position you're putting me in!" exclaimed Olive, "I will go back to Moscow, then what? What am I supposed to tell my mother? And my friends? What will people think about me? They will say I just got kicked out on my ass!"
"I, me, about me..." muttered Saltikov with a bitter smile, "What about m e, Pumpkin? Do you really love me?"
"Why are you asking? You know the answer."
"Alright, you love me. But you don't want the man you love so much to be unhappy, do you?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about," she flared up, "If people truly love each other, it's happiness for them to be together. I love you, I can't live without you, so the only thing I want is to be with you, with you only. And if you love me too you must want to be with me as well. If we want different things there's no love between us."
"You see, Pumpkin, I really love you, but if I am unable to live comfortably enough, eat what I want and go where I want chances are I will be unhappy."
"So, you mean, you are going to be unhappy with me? Did I get it right?"
"No, Pumpkin... I just meant, it would be better for us to wait a little bit longer..."
Olive turned to the window and focused on the curtain, twirling its corner around her finger.
"What if I tell you that I'm pregnant?"
The blood drained from Saltikov's face.
"What?" he mouthed.
"I'm late," muttered Olive in an unnatural emotionless voice.
Saltikov grabbed her shoulders and forcibly turned her round to face him.
"Pumpkin, are you pregnant? Is that true?"
"Guess so," Olive squeezed out, feeling a flush coming over her face.
Saltikov let go of her, staggered to the chair. His legs suddenly felt like jelly.
"No, Pumpkin, it can't be..." he breathed out.
Olive said nothing and continued playing with the curtain without looking at Saltikov.
"No, Pumpkin, wait!"
Saltikov was so shocked by the sudden news, he couldn't handle it.
"Are you quite serious, Pumpkin? Did you take a test?"
"Yes," Olive replied, still standing with her back to him.
He jumped up from the chair, turned her to himself again and gave her a long stare right in the eyes.
"Pumpkin. We can't afford a baby right now. Do you understand that?!"
Olive hung her head. The daylight coming from the window displayed her ears burning red.
"I'm not going to have an abortion, if you know what I mean," she said on one breath.
"Jesus Christ, Pumpkin, what abortion are you talking about? You can't be serious!" cried Saltikov running up and down the room in anxiety,"But this is really bad timing for a baby, Pumpkin, really bad timing!"
"You are in on this, somehow, aren't you?" said Olive in a muffled voice. "I'm not going to raise the child on my own either."
Saltikov crashed into the chair, pulled his hair and groaned out load. Then he sat there in silence for a few seconds, staring blankly in front of him, his cheek twitching, before he finally got a grip on himself and rose.
"Alright, Pumpkin," he said at last, "Get ready and let's go now."
"Where to?"
"To get married. Isn't it what you wanted?"
Having said this, Saltikov went out in the corridor and started pulling on his boots.