73
Tango of Death
to listen, even straining her
eyes and pursing her lips; and
her face became so inspired
that he fell in love with her
more and more, thinking that
she, in fact, had been created
to listen spellbound to
everything he would say, that
entire heap of words, which
he was falling in love with and
which he was sinking into,
as though into a quagmire,
greedily swallowing air; and
when during those readings
she snuggled up to him and
tickled his ear with her hot
breath, he thought that the
idyll would be eternal, and
that both of them simply
were destined to be married
to each other. Feelings were
taking over common sense,
and from the moment they
married, they started to live
at Roma’s parents’ place, and
that was the beginning of the
end.
Two years of teaching and
then part-time graduate
school
boded
no
joy,
because if there wasn’t
any money, there’d be no
money, and Roma’s parents
never denied themselves
from reminding the young
couple on every occasion
that they were mooching off
them. In the evening, after
putting their little son to
bed, Yarosh, with his books
spread all over the kitchen,
was writing his dissertation
about the literature of Egypt,
Babylon, Assyria, Sumeria,
Arcanaumia, and the Hittite
Kingdom, but the deeper he
delved into the topic and
dug up sources, the more his
work seemed to be hopeless,
because certain sources
gave birth to other ones, and
those – to yet others, and
it was endless, forcing him
to get lost in the labyrinths
of different versions and
often drawing conclusions
by groping about in the dark;
though everyone, who was
working on this topic, was