Chapter 6

From the Tragedian’s notes.

Annie came to see Mark the day before Suhrob’s birthday. She needed to talk to her conscience, and the policeman was ideally suited to the task. Most people soak up the grime of life in adolescence and, by adulthood, can no longer see the sky at all. Mark’s reality drew its nourishment from entirely different sources, not life experience but books. Naive books for idealists. He was close to a certain part of Annette ... closer than her husband. That was why she wanted to discuss what troubled her with the policeman. Was she making the right choices in life?

Sitting before him in a light dress with no bra underneath, Annie told him everything: how she had been fucking Omar until he arranged for his friend to invite her; how she had exchanged messages with Suhrob, sending him photographs; and how she had agreed to attend his gathering in the company of men.

Mark listened with a frown, trying not to look at Anna’s bare legs or her cleavage. She even found this amusing, and Yuri’s wife deliberately thrust out her chest, teasing the “good boy.”

“Well, what do you think?” she finally asked and fell tensely silent, surprised by her own nervousness. She felt as if she were awaiting a verdict. A verdict from her conscience, from herself, from the idealist inside her whom the house at 6 Maple Court held bound and captive. On her way to see Mark, Anna hadn’t realized how important it was to her not to hear that she was guilty.

“What am I supposed to say?” Mark answered quietly, looking away. Anywhere but at that sexy body, capable of breaking even the strongest masculine will!

“Tell me what you really think.”

“You mean, be completely honest? Are you sure?”

Anna swallowed nervously.

“Yes,” she nodded, as though she wasn’t entirely sure whether she was accepting or refusing.

“If you’re asking ... all right.”

Mark sighed and Anna drew in on herself. Suddenly she knew quite clearly that she would not be absolved. Nor should she be.

“I don’t think you should go to that man’s birthday party,” Mark said. “You have no business being there. You know it yourself: you have nothing in common with him. What is this, anyway? Are you punishing yourself by associating with the darkest, worst people you can find? Why were you messaging him? Why did you send him photographs? Do you want to overcome him, to triumph over a powerful man? But what’s the point of this struggle that’s beneath you? You’re a person of real depth, an intelligent woman who can grasp higher meanings. What are you wasting your life on?”

Anna was silent. Her nostrils began to flare with anger.

“You’re wasting your life on ... sex,” her neighbor continued, unaware that he was pouring kerosene on the fire. “You’ve traded yourself away for sex.”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!!!” Anna shouted, unable to bear it any longer. She couldn’t stand the fact that she agreed with every word the policeman had said.

“What...”

“What do you understand about anything?!” Anna interrupted. “You sit here alone, useful to no one, meaning nothing to anyone! You’re good, you’re kind, are you? Everyone likes feeling they’re a good person, especially when it costs them nothing! But your goodness can’t accomplish anything! You can’t fight the world; all you can do is judge it, judge me, judge everyone! And the world is monstrous! To fight monstrous evil, you need monstrous goodness!”