VICTOR LIAPIN

 

 

THE ROTHSCHILD’s HEIR

 

 

Translated by Ivan Lyapin

 

«You should just love these people. And love endures everything”.

 

 

Contact the author at:

Email: snybegemota@yandex.ru

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/victor.liapin

Site: http://lit.lib.ru/editors/l/ljapin_w_w

                                                             

 

THE CHARACTERS:

 

VOLODYA CHUGUNOV, a working man… or an unemployed man (it’s hard to say in recent days)

VERUNCHIK, his wife, a sewer

TANYUKHA, their neighbor, tradeswoman, working at the market, almost “New Russian”

ANATOLE, a friend of Chugunov’s

 

The action is taking place at a communal flat – in the kitchen, in the common hall and in the Chugunovs’ room.

Sunday morning. Chugunov is lying on bed, groaning a little. Verunchik is looking for money in the china-cupboard.

 

VOLODYA. Oh-oh-oh!... Verunchik!... Stop fussing around, please, Verunchik!... I beg you, please, go, bring a small can of beer?... Oh-oh-oh…

VERUNCHIK. Where’s the money? Here, in the butter dish, there was the money… Where?... Where is it?...

VOLODYA. Oh, Verunchik, for God’s sake!... You bought something… A blouse or a ring… Oh-oh-oh!... Beer, beer, please!...

VERUNCHIK. (Hits the ceiling) A blouse?... A ring?... You drank all the money away! You drank it away!...

     … You’ve broken my life. You’ve made a crone from me. That’s it. Enough. (Grabs the suitcase and throws her threads into it) … I’m leaving you. I’m going to Mother.

VOLODYA. Flew up… Bah!... Have you lost money? I, may be, have lost my life! But I’m silent!... I married the shrew… Take it… 

       … Going away? Roll over! … Roll over! ... I wish you torture each other with your Mumsie.

VERUNCHIK. (In the doorway) Layabout!

 VOLODYA. Bottled duck! … Look at yourself, a widow with the husband living…

 

Verunchik runs away. The door slams after her.

 

VOLODYA. Okay! ... It’s okay!... A man after forty is just in his prime. (Goes to the kitchen) … They’ll all flight at once at my whistle. Look at her! Reproached me for peanuts!!!

 

Chugunov dashes around the kitchen, then drinks from the tap.

Tanyukha comes in; a branded seductive dressing-gown is on her.         

 

TANYUKHA. Railed again?...

VOLODYA. Kicked her away!... Basta!... That’s it!... I’m starting a new life, Tanyukha… A marriageable groom!... Take while the going is good.

TANYUKHA. Grooms like you are sold for scrap.

VOLODYA. Lend me some money, Tanyukh, ah? Give back on Saturday.

TANYUKHA. But what will happen on Saturday?... You’ll become a deputy?...

VOLODYA. Well, you never know what will happen… Verka may come back…

TANYUKHA. You know my rules. I do not give alms. Bug off, Chugunov! I should have my coffee.

VOLODYA. One more… Not a rotten apple in the bunch… Where do you all come from?

 

Chugunov goes back to his room. Throws himself on the sofa. Jumps to his feet. Goes around from corner to corner, like a blown jaguar. Grasps at the phone.

 

VOLODYA. (Speaking over the phone) … Anatole, is it you?...  Feel sick?... Me too!... Mine went away… Completely… To her mother…. That’s it…. Neighbor at home… Come on, cover up for a friend!... Variant five, with a telegram… Okay?... I owe you one!... Hurry up! Presto! Presto! Only wrap your snoot with something, she mustn’t recognize you.

 

He replaces the receiver. Lies down on the sofa. Tumbles. Waits. Tanyukha is drinking her coffee in the kitchen and doing her morning toilette. There is a newscast on TV.

 

VOLODYA. (Shouts from the sofa) Tanya, how they are in Indonesia?... Ah?... Elected someone or still shooting?... Tanyukha, why dummy up?... (Failed to wait until the answer, he turns towards the wall) … go to… Peace negotiations reached a deadlock…  

         

Doorbell ring. Tanyukha goes to the door. It’s Anatole in the doorway. His face is twisted round with a scarf.

 

ANATOLE. Postman. Telegram. Does mister Chugunov live here?

TANYUKHA. He’s my neighbor.

ANATOLE. Ah, whatever. Sign here. Take it. (Gives the telegram to her and slams the door)

TANYUKHA. (Reads the telegram out of curiosity) “MISTER CHUGUNOV STOP AUNT DIED QUEBECK CANADA STOP YOU ONLY HEIR TWO MILLION DOLLARS STOP FLY OUT IMMEDIATELY STOP BILLY CLARK NOTARY OFFICER QUEBECK ONTARIO SHAMPAGNE AVENUE SIX STOP” …

 

She reads again. She understands. She becomes week in the knees. She sits down on a stool near the door. She has another read of the telegram.

 

VOLODYA. (Shouts from his room) Who’s there?...

TANYUKHA. (Perplexedly) …Erm… It’s to me… Neighbor… Knocked the wrong door… (She hurriedly goes to her room)

VOLODYA. Ah… (He turns back and keeps waiting)

 

A few dreary minutes go by. Chugunov’s lying on his bed. Tanyukha comes in and stops in the doorway, striking an advantageous pose. She has a pretty hot and tempting dress on. The room is being sweetened with the odour of delicate perfume.     

 

TANYUKHA. (Tenderly) Volodua!... Volodechka!... Are you sleeping?...

VOLODYA. I am.

TANYUKHA. What about Vera? Left you completely?

VOLODYA. Body and soul.

TANYUKHA. Oh, I’ll be right back!...

 

Almost in no time she appears with a tablecloth, plates and crystal wine-glasses. She quickly lays the table.

Brandy, champagne, vodka, black and red caviar, salads and appetizers arise on the table, as if the magic table-cloth were used.

 

TANYUKHA. (Keeps making preparations for meal) Volodya!... I’m a lonely woman. Feasts are so rare in my life. And I’ve never had a real man.

VOLODYA. (Sits down on the sofa, appraises the table, gulps) What about that Georgian with oranges?...

TANYUKHA. Well, first, he is from Baku… And then… You see, I wanna nestle up, heart to heart, talk about near and dear… But not about chebureki and tangerines…

VOLODYA. Mm-hm… I see…

TANYUKHA. Have a drink?... A bit of brandy, please…

VOLODYA. (Pours willingly) To?

TANYUKHA. To love, Volodya, to love!... To true love… That knocks you down at a glance… Sometimes, it seems… well, you see a man every day, but do not notice him… Such things do happen…

… But one moment – boom! – all of a heap: - But here he is, your dear, close at hand, in neighborhoods! … Did that ever happen to you?...

VOLODYA. (With his mouth full) Often… It happens every time…

TANYUKHA. True, true… That’s what I’m talking about….

     … Have you ever loved, Volodya? ... True love?!... Such love, like in the movies – that you scream with passion and cats on the roof fall down to water shoots with fear.

VOLODYA. True love?... Put caviar. Thicker, make it thicker. Is it Stolichnaya vodka? Okay. True love, you said?... Well no. Doubtful. I’m not lucky with women. One left me. Another was left by me. And the third – well, you know her…

TANYUKHA. Volodya! But me?! … (Looks into his eyes)

VOLODYA. You are a passionate woman, phat… Not for the like of me…

TANYUKHA. But what if you won my heart?

VOLODYA. But Georgians?...

TANYUKHA. Throw them away!... Let us dance?...

 

Tanyukha turns on the music. They dance passionate tango.

 

TANYUKHA. I used to be an actress, Volodya… You don’t know about that. That’s history… I was the reigning beauty of the theatre. What directors ran after me! What engagements they offered! “Moscow – Paris, and further on”. But as a result – only “…further on”. Director – jackass. Then I worked in a children’s theatre in one-horse town. You know, I played rabbits – jumped into the orchestra pit. But once I got out from it and told myself: - That’s enough!... And went to the market, to sell sunflower seeds.

   … Where are you going, Vova?...

 

Chugunov sits down the table. Pours vodka. Tipples. Takes head in hands.

 

VOLODYA. (With tears in his voice) … Everything’s gone, Tanyukha… Everything’s gone…

TANYUKHA. What’s gone, Volodya?...

VOLODYA. …Weekend is gone.

TANYUKHA. Volodya, I wanna tell you one thing… It’s so hard… So tormenting… I don’t know…

VOLODYA. Do what’s hard while it’s easy…  Now we pour – say after this…

 

They pour vodka.

 

TANYUKHA. … Volodya, I love you… Will you marry me, please…

 

They drink.           

 

VOLODYA. Right away?...

TANYUKHA. Well, preferably, right away… (Drops her eyes) … The main thing in love is – timeliness, Volodya… You see, we are no longer in our first youth…

VOLODYA. Yeah, hell of daisies…

TANYUKHA. That’s what I’m saying… Don’t think that I’m faithless… No, I’m not… And in love I am…

VOLODYA. I know… I often heard through the wall…

TANYUKHA. Kiss me, darling!... (She kisses him herself, lays his head down on her bosom) … Do you hear this?... My heart’s beating like mad…

    … Now, they say, all newlyweds make marriage settlements… Well, kinda, all husband’s property and all wife’s belongings are considered to be common, divided between…

VOLODYA. What should I divide? Three shirts, two ties…

TANYUKHA. (Heartily) All yours will be mine, and all mine – yours.

VOLODYA. Deal!... Blind men can judge no colours…

TANYUKHA. Kiss me again!... Hotter!...

 

Aggressive doorbell ring. Tanyukha goes to the door, upset. There is Anatole at the door, “the postman”.

 

TANYUKHA. What do you want?...

ANATOLE. Tips, for the telegram. Chugunov promised.

TANYUKHA. What tips?

ANATOLE. In due order. Call Chugunov.

TANYUKHA. Okay, okay… Don’t shout, please. Take it.

ANATOLE. Should I take it all?

TANYUKHA. Yeah. Now go away.

VOLODYA. (From the sofa) Who’s there again?...

TANYUKHA. It’s to me… A friend… (She elbows Anatole out) I asked her to pop in tomorrow…

    (Comes back to Chugunov’s room) … Volodya! You know what I’ve got?... Two rings of pure gold… I bought them last fall off a gipsy… I kept them for the occasion… Let’s drink champagne to the engagement! And let’s put on the rings, like in truth.

VOLODYA. Is there any bridal veil in your trunk, by any chance? I would like it, with a veil…

TANYUKHA. Don’t fool the saint, Volodya…

 

They drink champagne brotherhood, and ring each other.

A long hot kiss. They hardly break apart.

… There is Verunchik in the doorway, stands mute with wonder, the suitcase in her hands.

 

VERUNCHIK. …What is it?...

VOLODYA. …Engagement…

VERUNCHIK. …Wh-what? Engagement?...

VOLODYA. Go, call the priest. You’ll be the fiancée’s mother.

VERUNCHIK. Tanya, what’s happening here?...

TANYUKHA.  … Well… Why did you come back?... You split with him – and that’s it. And, on top of that, we’ve been loving each other for a long time…and… Volodya is my ideal.

VERUNCHIK. Volodya’s what?

TANYUKHA. Ideal.

VERUNCHIK. Volodya!... How so? … What’s for me?... What’s for us, Volodya?...

VOLODYA. Mother isn’t at home, is she?    

VERUNCHIK. (Crying) I gave you everything… I looked after you like a nurse…

VOLODYA. You know what oppress me most in life? The ease with which women slop tears. Why are you always weeping?... You came, you didn’t make anything out – but you’re crying… Who knows, maybe, we’ll do it threesome?...

TANYUKHA. Threesome? How?

VOLODYA. Well, probably, like Persian or Arabian…

TANYUKHA. Do you think what you’re talking about?...   

VOLODYA. Bother it! You’ve mixed me up. One’s roaring, another is growling. Sort it out to each other first, okay? …

     (Pours himself vodka) … Yeah, there would be the engagement, if not for the wife…

     (Drinks) I wish you’d put that veil on, Tanyukha…

 

Even more aggressive doorbell ring. Verunchik, crying, opens the door. Anatole appears.

 

ANATOLE. (On seeing the luxurious table) Hi, folks! Spare three rubles!... Oh, my… Is it friendlily?... He’s stuffing himself with caviar and brandy while I’m gulping thin beer at the boozer… I should have buried my own aunt in Québec…     

VOLODYA. Oh, come on, Anatole, sit down. Do I mind?... You got lost somewhere, didn’t come in… You’ll give away the bride… You see, I’m getting married… or divorced… I don’t understand yet…

 

Anatole pours himself some brandy and tries to drink.

 

TANYUKHA. Just a moment… Anatole?!... (She attempts to take the shot glass away from him) … Don’t you work at post office?...

ANATOLE. Sure… Coachman… O-o-o-o-p-s, sorry!... (Finally he manages to have a drink and gives the empty glass to Tanyukha)

TANYUKHA. But the telegram?...

VERUNCHIK. What telegram?...

TANYUKHA. His aunt died in Quebec. She bestowed a fortune upon him… Two million dollars….

ANATOLE. At first, I wanted to write “twenty”…

VOLODYA. Too much… She wouldn’t have bitten it on…

VERUNCHIK. He has no aunt, really…   

TANYUKHA. How?

VERUNCHIK. Yeah. No aunt. She’s never been.

TANYUKHA. …You dirty filthy scum!... Got pie-eyed?... I’ll tell Kazbec – he’ll kick all the caviar out of you, you, African asshole!...

VERUNCHIK. Hey, you, stop yelling at my husband!... And all – get out from our home!...

TANYUKHA. (She ties the table-cloth with everything on it in a knot) …Your home?... My shed is better than your home…

VOLODYA. Tanyusha, should I hand in the ring?...

TANYUKHA. Give it here, Judas!...

 

She goes away with all her belongings.   

 

VOLODYA. (After her) Women! Mean, how mean you are!... Throw tantrums because of such trifles! Unlucky with Canada –  lucky with Greece or Switzerland… Big deal!...  Right, Vera?...

VERUNCHIK. Go away!... Off you go! Both!... Go!

VOLODYA. Come along, Anatole. (Shows him a hidden bottle of brandy in the pocket of his coat) … Winged sentiments – aren’t for women… I tell you right.

       

They leave.

 

THE END