Chapter III : Train station.
"Sunflower seeds, beer, chips, chocolate! Sunflower seeds, beer, chips, chocolate!"
Wrapped in countless layers of coats and scarves, a round silhouette pushed along the train station platform a metal cart filled with various goods. Occasionally, people would stop the silhouette, hastily remove their gloves, count out coins, take their purchases, and hurry toward the door of the waiting train.
The figure paced the railway platform all day, chanting like a mantra:
"Sunflower seeds, beer, chips, chocolate! Sunflower seeds, beer, chips, chocolate!"
The mantra only ceased with the nightfall; the station stood eerily deserted. Jumping from the freezing cold and exhaling clouds of steam, the forlorn round silhouette kept on pushing the cart forward without much enthusiasm. Night temperatures seemed to thicken the air, to make it more and more challenging to push through. At last, having pushed the cart all the way to the station building, the silhouette opened some undistinguishable door and disappeared into it.
Struggling to move through the dim, cramped utility room that hid beyond that door, the frostbitten silhouette first turned on the water in the tiny shower stall and then proceeded to unwrap the layers of scarves, shawls, and jackets, shrinking with each removed piece. From a bundle of fabrics, the figure now transformed into a frail young woman with short, dishevelled hair. That hair, along with her slight frame, lent her an almost excessive fragility, made her look like a small, wounded bird. The little bird darted into the shower stall, now filled with hot steam. Streams of warm water stirred little bird's frozen hunger, boiled her entire being to the bone. When had she last eaten? The world around her was quickly devoured by thick blackness. She swayed, then slumped heavily against the stall’s wall. Reality was slipping away.
Fumbling for the cold metal handle, she twisted it with all the remaining bits of strength. A blast of icy water wrenched a pained gasp from her frail chest, but it did its job. The darkness stepped away, leaked out through the corners of her eyes, bringing back the grimy sight of limescale-ridden walls. Young woman exhaled in relief, pushed the door open and collapsed onto the couch, exhausted.
"That's what I need, to kick the bucket in this hole…" she muttered, struggling to pull on tights over the damp skin of her legs.
Sitting on this worn-out, once-red couch, she tore hungrily into a chocolate bar from the cart.
Suddenly, the heavy door swung open, letting in a gust of freezing air and a burly man in a fur-trimmed puffer jacket.
"Done already?" he asked in Caucasian accent.
"Hey, Karim."
Karim pulled back his hood and unzipped his jacket, revealing an unshaven, broad-cheeked face and a solid gut beneath a striped sweater. His thick, hairy fingers rummaged through the bottom of the cart, dragging out some battered old bag. Without a glance at the girl, he upended its contents onto the couch—a pile of crumpled bills and coins, the day’s earnings.
"So, how were sales?"
The girl lit a cigarette.
"Fine, better than usual. Though that homeless guy who's been lurking around almost ripped me off again."
"Sergey, that son of a bitch… I’ll pay security to toss him out already."
"Yeah, maybe… I don’t know. Anyway, I sold a bunch. Karim, listen, I need money to get my daughter out of Ukraine." She ran both hands through her damp hair. That made her sharp, gaunt features look even more hollow. "I can’t keep her there any longer. She’ll rot with those old women."
"And here she won’t?" Karim smirked, glancing sideways at the suffering girl. "Where are you even taking her? You’re at work all day—gonna leave her alone in that rental? Or bring her here to hang out with the bums? Keep Sergey entertained?"
"I don’t know. But it’s not right, her being there alone."
"Of course it’s not. A kid needs a future. I told you—marry me, move in. And you?"
She lifted her weary eyes to him.
"Here we go again…"
"What do you mean, 'again'?" Karim grabbed her by the T-shirt and without much effort pulled her onto his knee. His large, hairy hand stroke her thigh, which now seemed almost doll-like in comparison.
"How long are you gonna drift around like this?" he murmured. "You could be at home, cooking dinner, raising your daughter properly. What more do you need? I’m a decent man too. I don’t hit. I just need a woman in the house."
His hand slipped under her shirt.
"Karim, don’t…" protested the woman weakly, although didn’t move and only took another drag of her cigarette, exhaling into the empty space ahead.
His hand roamed freely beneath the stretched-out cotton.
"Listen, you’re not stupid—you get it, don’t you? You’d be better off with me. Warm nest, no need to work…"
Karim pressed his bristly chin against her thin, pale neck and murmured as he tugged at the waistband of her tights,
"I’m a passionate man, fiery—you’d never be bored with me…"
The deserted platform, with a few freight cars frozen stiff from the cold, loomed pale and desolate under the dim glow of the night lamps.
"The fuck do you mean - renunciation of fatherhood? Have you lost your last bits of mind? What is this, another one of your provocations? Got nothing better to do in life? Leave me alone, Ira. What the hell do you want from me? I barely managed to get away from you and your constant problems. I had to run all the way to Moscow! But here we are, you still had to come after me. Do you even understand that I can’t fucking do this anymore? I can’t keep being the bad guy all the time, no matter what I do—it’s never right. You’ve pecked my liver clean. You and your mother, both of you—bitter, raging harpies. No wonder all her husbands drink themselves to death. Try living with you and not becoming an alcoholic! If I work, it’s not good enough—bad salary, no help around the house. If I stay home, I’m a useless sack of shit. I’m done with you!"
"Well, I don’t need anything from you anymore, just give me my daughter."
"But who’s keeping her from you? She's not my hostage."
"Then sign the damn papers."
"And who’s gonna become her new daddy now? Some station porter, some gook off the tracks?"
"That’s none of your business, love. Just sign and get lost."
"Oh no, excuse me, love, but I’m done playing along with your hysteria. You want this? Go ahead, take it to court, send me a summons. But you should understand something too—your little illegal job and that shithole room you rent with your schizo bestie aren’t exactly speaking in your favor."
"Schizo or not, that didn’t stop you from screwing her the first chance you got."
"Same as with you."
"I will destroy you, Kravets."
"You’re pathetic. Just a pathetic, screeching little woman. Don’t call me again."
"You wish! First, give me my money, you— Ah, he hung up. Asshole."
Irina lit a cigarette and sank helplessly into the couch.
“A gook off the tracks, is he talking about me?” Karim, sprawled out lazily beside her, eyed Irina with a challenge. “What exactly did you tell him? You keep running your mouth about me, and I’ll make a call to the Chechenis—there won’t be a trace left of either you or him, got it?” He grabbed Irina’s chin, his thick fingers pressing into her skin. “Who have you been talking to about me?”
“No one, I swear.”
“Good girl.” His fingers didn’t let go. “Wanna take a bag home, to wind down? It's on me.”
“No, thanks, I don’t want any.”
“Smart. I need a healthy wife. Alright, get going — metro’s closing soon.”
“And the money?”
“Earn it. Push my stuff instead of this garbage.” Karim nodded toward the snack cart. “Then the money’s yours.”
“I don’t even have a residency permit here, Karim…” Irina rubbed her eyes and cast a weary glance at the bundle of black plastic in the corner of the storage room, as if addressing her words to it. “They catch me, I’m cooked. Do you not get it? I’ll never see my daughter again.”
“And you think it’s any easier for me? Have you seen my face? Cops stop me five times a day already.”
“Then maybe shave. Get a decent coat.”
"Keep being a smartass. Take the bag and get to your place."
Wrapped in a mangy green coat, with a ridiculous red hat down over her eyebrows, Irina hurried toward the metro, fighting irritation.
"Men only bring trouble. Haven't I learnt that already? Fucking hell, Ira, what have you gotten yourself into... Let me put some lipstick on, maybe that's less suspicious. Here we go, Polya, mamma is coming for you."
_________