Sex for Fridge by Zurab Lezhava
Translated by Victoria Field and Natalia Bukia Peters
Zurab Lezhava, was born in 1960, Tbilisi, Georgia. After finishing Tbilisi Secondary School Number 126, he worked in the state-owned printing house. He spent 16 years in prison from 1982-98. He now earns his living making and selling decorative wooden statues. He has published 3 books (a novel and two books of short stories) and numerous short stories in different literary magazines. Half of his works were written in jail.
5600 words
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Zurab Lezhava
Sex for Fridge
The clumsy old Apsharon refrigerator, which had been handed down through the family as if it were an heirloom, together with a single, lonely kitchen chair, were all that was left in Albert Karbelashvili’s kitchen. Why the chair? Because it was an odd one and strange-looking and the guy who bought the four matching chairs didn’t take it with him. Albert was stuck with the ancient patriarchal Apsharon fridge for the same reason - no one would buy it. Like an evil ghost, that old fridge would follow him around forever. It was in the family’s first flat one which had four rooms. Karbelashvili’s parents sold that a long time ago and downshifted to a three-roomed flat. Then they moved to another three-roomed flat in a poorer neighbourhood. Eventually, Karbelashvili’s parents moved even further and now they inhabit another world – the one beyond this one. But their offspring continued the tradition they started - of selling flats, furniture and other household items. Every so often, Albert would exchange his flat for a smaller one and sell things handed down by his family. Then, for a while, he would live on the money he made from the sales. This way of life didn’t entirely satisfy him and he would sometimes wonder for how long it could continue. But was never able to answer his own question.
All the time he was living in his tiny one-roomed flat, he had no choice but to continue. It was on the outskirts of the most miserable part of the city an area people called ‘Eve’s Arsehole’ because of its remoteness. Half-wild starving dogs and halfdomesticated packs of jackals, roamed the streets attacking each other around the dirty rubbish bunkers and creating havoc. The local population was dangerous and 2
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fearsomely argumentative. The majority were unemployed and God only knows how they supported themselves. In summer, they hung around the streets in front of their houses from morning to evening but in the winter, the devil only knows where they went or what they got up to. Eve’s Arsehole was the last inhabited part of the town beyond which the fields and villages began. There was no way Albert could move any further out. He would rather live under a hedge in the town than move to a village. In a village he would have to work and he avoided work like the plague.
All that was left in Karbelashvili’s flat was the solitary chair in the kitchen, a rusty, peeling iron bedstead, an ugly wardrobe in a style which went out long ago (made in the Khashuri factory), an un-tuned piano and the thirty year old Apsharon refrigerator. Things no one would ever buy. The most irritating item was the fridge which his parents had bought before he was born. Something in its mechanism would periodically explode or burst unexpectedly. This would set the fridge motor working, whirring and shaking. It would vibrate so vigorously that the kitchen cutlery would rattle in the drawers. The force of the vibration had been increasing over time so that now, when the fridge motor came on, the fridge would begin to move and eventually it began to travel around the kitchen. Albert’s father had put a border of heavy silicate bricks around its base so that its activity was restricted to one place and it was forced to stop its peregrinations around the kitchen. Eventually though, the fridge managed to escape from its brick border. Somehow, as if by magic, it would cross the bricks and vibrate in the middle of the kitchen. Sometimes, summoning amazing strength and with an almost-human desperation, the fridge would rush into the middle of the room or out into the hall and hurl itself against the walls. With its dangling electric wire and plug, it looked like a big white dog on a lead – a dog that sometimes 3
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barked and ran around but which would then calm down and lie peacefully for a while before beginning to bark again - as if someone was teasing it. It was impossible to sell this fridge and Karbelashvili had put up with this object because, in spite of its bad character, it did in fact still keep things cold.
Albert scrutinised the free advertisements in the newspaper under the heading WANTED. With his pen at the ready, he scanned the column for someone who might buy a used fridge and to his astonishment he found such a person. The advert informed him that the buyer’s name was Zhuzhuna and she would buy cheap used fridges. There was a telephone number as well. Albert circled the ad, went into the living room, picked up the phone and began to dial the number. After several failed attempts at getting through, the receiver eventually made the appropriate sounds and Albert understood that there was a connection. After a while, someone picked up at the receiver at the other end and he heard a woman’s deliberately high-pitched voice. Her greeting with its strange voice and intonation sounded most peculiar.
She said, Hall –ooooooooo.
Karbelashvili cleared his throat and said, Hello – may I speak to Miss Zhuzhuna?
This is Zhu-zhu-na speaking, the woman answered in her shrieking voice.
I am calling regarding your advertisement, Miss Zhuzhuna! I have a fridge for sale.
Aaaah! What kind of fridge? Zhuzhuna asked, in a happy voice. 4
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It’s an Apsheron! Albert shouted into the receiver.
An Apsheron? How muuuuuuch do you want for it? Apsheron isn’t a very good make, you know, the woman half-shrieked, half-squawked.
They are good! They are good! Albert wholeheartedly praised the Apsheron.
How much do you want for it? the woman repeated her question.
It’s cheap! He gave his answer – a hundred laris.
One hundred laris? answered the woman, thinking it expensive.
Eighty, then! conceded Albert.
Eighty? It’s still expensive, the woman said.
Seventy, then, conceded Albert again.
What about fifty?
No!
Why not? Apsheron is a terrible make, the woman squawked 5
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Good or bad, the answer’s no, retaliated Albert. Seventy is my last price.
Is delivery included? The woman had found a new escape route.
What do you mean, delivery? Albert shouted again. No, no delivery.
Is the motor working? the woman asked. Is it in a good condition?
The motor’s fine and it’s in excellent condition, Albert answered.
I’ll come and have a look at it, the woman announced.
Yes, come and look at it, said Albert.
Whereabouts are you? the woman asked
Eve’s Turning, answered Albert.
She repeated ‘Eve’s Turning’ thoughtfully – that’s so far out. It will be difficult to bring a fridge back all that way. No, it’s no good for me.
Karbelashvili worried that he was losing the sale and shouted in desperation. ‘Okay, I’ll knock off another ten laris - you can have it for sixty.’
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What about getting it into the car? the woman asked
Speak to the driver and I will help to carry it down.
What about carrying up at the other end? Zhuzhuna asked, getting greedy.
No way - I’ll only help to carry it down and put in the car! Albert confirmed his offer.
After that Mrs Zhuzhuna took down Karbelashvili’s address and promised to come in the next hour or so. She said goodbye for now and hung up.
After an hour and a half, Albert’s doorbell rang very loudly. The noise was so powerful, it sounded as if the person wasn’t pressing a doorbell but squashing an insect into wallpaper so hard that it would become absorbed into the wallpaper’s pattern. Albert opened the door and saw a tall, hefty, red-cheeked woman with a large head standing in the doorway. Women of such a type - that is, women who are simultaneously tall, fat, large-headed and red-cheeked, often have high shrieking and squawking voices. They think such a voice will offset their heftiness. If a woman who is tall, fat, large-headed and red-cheeked also had a deep husky voice, life would be simply hopeless. And it is true that to some extent an artificially high-pitched voice, a bit like a pig squealing, does balance out the heftiness of such women. Bald men behave in a similar way. Having no hair on their heads, they often grow a bushy moustache, sometimes tropically abundant, to offset the absence of vegetation above.
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To cut a long story short, this Zhuzhuna who approached the door with her characteristic shrieking and squawking, carelessly brushed her feet like a horse cantering on the spot and entered Albert’s flat. Albert showed her into the kitchen and pointed out the fridge.
This is my fridge, he told her.
Oh! The red-cheeked woman started nattering on in a loud demanding voice. She was looking for faults in the fridge and she was probably always like that, that is, demanding. She couldn’t see anything wrong with it but took note of its contents – an opened bottle of Minimo vodka, a piece of salami and some mustard in a miniscule plastic container. With barely concealed pleasure, she looked at this excuse for a delicatessen and, with some lust in her voice, began to quiz Albert about his marital status. As soon as she learned he had no wife, she immediately began an account of her own life. According to her, she had a husband, a small flat and worked in some kind of unspecified office doing some kind of unspecified work. Zhuzhuna’s husband, according to Zhuzhuna, was an uneducated, insensitive man who only ran up debts. Creditors would occasionally call, asking for him. He had constant schemes and plans and would invariably get into debt trying to bring his plans to fruition. But instead of getting anywhere, each venture lead to a piling of new debt on old. The creditors would come more and more often and tread dirt into Zhuzhuna’s home. Her husband would sneak out in the morning and return late at night and poor Zhuzhuna, as she referred to herself, had to endure everyone’s continuous whinging, complaining, grumbling and threats against her husband. She didn’t love him and didn’t respect him and dreamed only of punishing him - but she didn’t know how to. 8
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Their flat was on the top, ninth, floor of the building and when it rained, water came through because the damaged roof. Her useless neighbours, who shared the same staircase, refused to contribute any money to get it repaired. Her no-good office job, where Zhuzhuna was wearing herself out, didn’t pay her or any of the other employees. In fact, it was no longer paying any wages at all. There was no work to do anyway but even when there was work, to be fair, neither she nor her colleagues would kill themselves doing it. They came to the office to drink coffee and gossip. However, Zhuzhuna would not admit such a thing, just as she wouldn’t admit any other justified criticism against her. Everything and everybody around her was in the wrong whereas she was right in every way about everything and everybody. In that respect she was the same as Albert. They were soul mates. In one important respect though, Zhuzhuna was different from Albert - whilst she had most qualities in excess, she was missing a vital ingredient – love. Although on second thoughts, perhaps she had that too in common with Albert.
Mrs Zhuzhuna had one dream. She very much wanted to find an elderly, rich carowning lover. He would, by necessity, be married and would provide her with money and presents. They would have a regular meeting place and he would be, to quote Zhuzhuna, hygienic and discrete. This hefty lady of forty-plus couldn’t understand why she hadn’t found such a man or, more generally, why such men seemed to have disappeared. Such men are few and far between and there is no lack of women both younger and more beautiful than Zhuzhuna. Mme Zhuzhuna drank like a man - she could drink any man under the table. She enjoyed long witty toasts accompanied by poetry. Red-cheeked and fluttering her eyes, she would explain to her drinking companions the meaning of brotherly love, for example, and how siblings can love 9
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each other best of all. She liked to converse in the same style about family love and motherly love and about all the subjects that come up as part of the drinking and toasting traditions. She could sing and if there were a piano where they were drinking, she would bang the keys and sing in a shrieking voice, overcome by emotion. If she could get away with it, Zhuzhuna used strong language. She liked eating rich food and had a prodigious appetite about which she’d make apologetic jokes. After which, she’d then tuck in to everything on the table, especially the dishes made with pork. Zhuzhuna liked pork.
Somehow, step by step and almost imperceptibly, between Albert, who had just turned forty, and Zhuzhuna, who was over forty, a very lively conversation developed which Zhuzhuna deliberately directed towards her own indirectly expressed, simple idea. This idea consisted of Zhuzhuna and Albert consuming the vodka and sausage in the fridge, then frolicking in bed together with the climax of events being the remarkable fact that Albert, with a feeling of gratitude, would hand over the fridge free of charge.
To put it briefly, the fridge would be exchanged for sex.
But Albert, like all men, was not very shrewd and couldn’t understand what this strange woman was up to. This was partly because he was worrying about an embarrassing possibility. Whilst it was true that the fridge kept things cold and its light came on when the door was opened, he dreaded the moment when the fridge motor would start up. He had no idea what to expect from the woman buyer if she saw it happen. Would she still want to buy this crazy fridge? A fridge which every 10
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so often entered into an altercation with the tiled floor around it, jumped out of its brick border and lurched around the room like a mad thing?
Meanwhile, Zhuzhuna was, as they say, gently, gently, bit by bit and step by step, leading the mysterious but sociable conversation towards what she hoped to achieve the exchange of sex for the fridge. But, she wanted the owner of the fridge to think it was his idea and for him to be the one to suggest such an agreement. And, naturally, to suggest it in a form acceptable to a respectable woman. Finally, after a lot of persuasion from the fridge owner Albert Karbelashvili, and many refusals from her side, she would yield to this naughty and seductive temptation.
If my husband was good for anything would I be here? Mme Zhuzhuna speculated aloud about her husband’s worth, all the time wondered at Albert’s failure to take the hint and when he would get round to taking the vodka and sausage from the fridge.
Why would I be buying such a rubbish fridge? If my husband were a real man would he have allowed me to come to Eve’s Backside to buy this fridge? But no, he only brings creditors to the house. He creeps out of the house early in the morning and comes back at midnight leaving me to deal with them. The other day, I had to take to our fridge to the repairman myself. It was out of order for two weeks and I had to pay for the repairs with my own money. I don’t know what to do with him; I don’t know what to do with him! Is he a real man? Is he a real man? The hefty woman continually declared, pacing to and fro as if she were a queen giving orders. And as she did so, she repeatedly accidentally brushed past Albert.
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And Albert in his turn, as if by accident, lifted his hand in an exploratory way against this woman who was behaving like a snorting brood mare. Then he mustered his courage and suggested punishing her husband a little.
Really, he is not a very serious man, your husband, Albert said dubiously, smiling at her in an appeasing way, and such men deserve what’s coming to them. Such men should be made an example of by humiliation and the best way would be his wife’s adultery. Yes, adultery! You must be unfaithful to him.
Adultery! Be unfaithful? Zhuzhuna was surprised and raised her innocent eyebrows. She didn’t seem to be offended by the suggestion. It was as if it was a surprising idea that had never occurred to her. To be unfaithful! Yes, I would but is it worth it? And with whom? And nowadays men have no ability to appreciate a woman.
Be unfaithful to your husband with me! I will appreciate you! Albert suggested to Zhuzhuna and reached out to her big, wobbly backside.
Hey! Zhuzhuna brushed away his sweaty hands with her strong stubby fingers. How can you appreciate me if you are more of a beggar than my husband? All you have in the world is a fridge and you are selling that!
Well, so what? You can’t measure everything with money. He tried to defend himself and with a smile on his big-nosed face, looked down at the place in his trousers, at what cannot not be measured with money but only with a ruler and a
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compass. Then he looked up and reached out again to Zhuzhuna’s big wobbly bottom.
Leave me alone, for heaven’s sake darling! Zhuzhuna tried to get rid of his hand. Who needs a penniless man? If only there was a rich old man who could support me properly. Do you know anyone like that? Perhaps you could introduce someone like that to me.
Who can I introduce to you …? Albert mumbled and fell silent.
The woman was greedily bustling around the fridge. She opened and closed its door, poking her head inside as if she was examining it carefully as a potential purchase. In reality, she was hoping that her host would take the hint and offer her the vodka and sausage. The host, however, didn’t take the hint because he wasn’t sure that, after partaking of the vodka and sausage, the woman would agree to be unfaithful in order to punish her worthless husband.
This critical situation perhaps would have been solved by the action of the fridge motor but the fridge had no intention of switching on. No one ever had the faintest inkling when this event might take place. It would only switch its motor on when it felt like it, not according to any precise schedule. But, finally, at last, the exploding noise of the motor sounded and the fridge, making a neighing sound, began to shake as if it were having an epileptic fit. It tried to jump out of the brick barrier that surrounded it but couldn’t manage to do so on this occasion because Albert had added more bricks as a precautionary measure. Zhuzhuna, shrieked in surprise and threw 13
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herself against Albert’s chest in terror. Then she pushed him away and expressed her outrage in a shrieking voice.
My God! What is it?’ She yelled. What was that? She never stopped exclaiming – ooh, aah, eee.
The motor is a little noisy, that’s all. Albert calmed her down.
It certainly is! It will drive my neighbours crazy if it starts working at night.
It won’t drive them mad. Albert calmed her.
Oooooooh, the woman shrieked.
Eventually the motor switched itself off and the woman calmed down a little. She would occasionally give out an ‘ouch’ but without the same degree of feeling as previously. She then tried use the noisy motor as a way of reducing the price of the fridge as much as possible. But Albert was determined to dismiss this defect and present the problem as minor and not worth considering. Zhuzhuna was suggesting twenty laris but Albert was demanding at least forty.
Twenty! The woman suddenly shouted and put her foot unexpectedly on the only chair in the kitchen, which wobbled slightly. Having done that she caressed her own plump thigh, making the dress fabric cling and with a devilish twinkle in her eyes repeated in a sweet voice, ‘twenty ..’ Without disagreeing, Albert lowered his price 14
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and mollified and changed his tone, whilst sliding his hand under her thigh. Thirty five, he uttered full of emotion and this time he caressed the bare flesh of her thigh.
Twenty… the woman whispered and nibbled his ear. Okay let it be thirty, Albert acquiesced to the woman with an obedient whisper and moved his hand deeper between her thighs. Zhuzhuna took his feeble hand in her strong hands and began to move it up and down along her thigh as if she were using a sponge in the bath.
Damn it, let’s go! Karbelashvili said through gritted teeth, succumbing to his fate. He embraced Mme Zhuzhuna’s substantial waist with his frankfurter-like hands and guided the devoted family-woman out of the kitchen into the other room. He attempted to push her onto the bed but because they hadn’t agreed upon the price, she refused to move. Help me take it downstairs and load it on the car as well, she asked in a caressing whisper.
Oh, yes, okay, an emotional Albert agreed and then he pushed her back towards the bed.
Let’s drink first Zhuzhuna said. She steered Albert back into the kitchen towards the fridge and made him open the fridge door. As there was no table in the flat, Karbelashvili put everything on top of the fridge. He then went into the other room and opened the wardrobe where he kept all his possessions including his groceries. He brought out a half-eaten loaf of stale bread and stained dirty glasses and put them on top of the fridge as well. Then in a sudden gesture, he took everything off again, blew the dust off the top of the fridge and put it all back again. He was still not 15
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satisfied and so pulled out a plastic bag which had been stored behind a redundant radiator, moved the food out of the way, put the plastic bag on top of the fridge and laid the food out for the third time.
Come on, he told Zhuzhuna and casually invited her to the fridge for a feast. Zhuzhuna protested mockingly and made some sarcastic comments about having to stand at a fridge in order to partake of a feast. First she asked him to move the food onto the windowsill, but since they had only one chair, which wobbled, Zhuzhuna made another suggestion. On her initiative, they moved the only chair into the living room and put it next to the peeling bedstead. It was good timing because the moment Albert took the vodka and glasses from the fridge, the motor started up again. The once white but now yellowish, almost-alive fridge shook its body with such strength and persistence, that the bread, sausage and mustard were thrown out onto the floor. The vodka and glasses had had a lucky escape from being broken. Zhuzhuna and Albert picked up the groceries and put them on the plastic bag on the wobbly chair together with the vodka and glasses. They sat side by side on the peeling rusty bed. Albert poured Minimo vodka.
You forgot salt, Zhuzhuna muttered, with her mouth full of bread and sausage. She pinched Albert very strongly on his backside.
Albert got up and brought some salt. They were drinking vodka, eating and caressing each other. More precisely, Albert was caressing Zhuzhuna whilst she was pinching him as if she wanted to pull off bits of flesh. Occasionally, they had some music from a small cheap radio, which worked on 4 volts. The radio’s adaptor was burned out 16
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and the batteries were almost flat. This technical hitch prevented the radio from being run from the mains and the batteries could only feed the radio for a very short period. After that you had to switch off the radio to allow the exhausted batteries to recover their strength. Then it was possible to switch the radio on again for a short time. Zhuzhuna could play, or, more precisely, bang the piano, but she couldn’t do so here because there was a meal set out on the only chair and the terribly un-tuned piano lacked a key. In any case, Zhuzhuna was not keen to play. She was knocking back the vodka in a manly way and composing a toast, which included quotations from famous poets and some swearing. She cursed her husband with four-letter words - her husband, neighbours, colleagues, bosses, country leaders were all sworn at. She considered everyone to be a personal enemy and named them as the cause of her miserable existence. She considered them criminals. Albert’s disposition was pretty similar.
When the vodka began to take effect or, more precisely, when this intoxicating liquid began to flow in Karbelashvili’s veins, he pushed his hand into his pocket and said that he would bring another bottle of Minimo. Zhuzhuna demurred, reluctant to let him spend money but it was obvious that her own appetite had been stimulated as well.
Can you afford to be so generous? She asked him in a soft voice and slid his hand, as if she was using a sponge in the bath, along her thigh.
Money? No, I don’t have money, answered Albert tipsily, stumbling over his words. But you owe me twenty laris and I’ll buy the vodka out of that twenty. 17
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Zhuzhuna, unlike Albert, was not in the least tipsy – she only had an increased appetite. She weighed up the situation in no time and didn’t agree instantly, because to be honest, it was impossible to buy an old fridge at that price and make a profit.
No, it’s not worth it, don’t do it, she whispered to him and continued to rub his feeble hand against her thigh. No, you don’t need it. Don’t do it.
What do you mean? I want to, Albert answered. He was completely lost in pleasant thoughts, thinking himself already rich and consequently omnipotent. Give me the money.
No, I won’t give it to you!
Give it to me!
No!
You know it would be great.
No, you’re crazy!
Give it to me now!
Okay, but I will give you only ten now, you madman. 18
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Okay, first give me ten. Don’t you trust me? Albert was upset.
Yes, I trust you - ouch, ouch, ooh, ooh. Zhuzhuna neighed like a horse and handed over ten laris to Albert, continuing to make neighing noises.
Albert took the money, tidied his rumpled clothes and went down to the shop adopting the demeanour of a businessman. With a slightly threatening face, he bought bread, one bottle of Minimo, sausage and batteries for the radio. He asked the shopkeeper to put everything in a disposable plastic bag and took the change, five laris and thirty-five tetri and went back home. There, Zhuzhuna was making a racket playing the piano and singing a love song in her high-pitched shrieking voice. She had moved the remains of the food to one side and was sitting on the chair. Albert placed the bag of groceries on the piano, took out the new batteries and changed them for those in the radio. He turned up the volume to check whether it was working, then turned it off and began to listen to the woman singing. But Zhuzhuna who had already been singing for a long time was getting bored. She got up and pushed the chair towards the bed and laid out the food again. They sat down and continued their feast. The woman was talking laconically, the radio was playing and finally they finished eating, cleared the leftovers from the chair, took off their clothes and got into bed. Albert didn’t like the sight of the naked woman. When dressed, she had seemed tall, plump and somehow appetising. When she removed her clothes, she was fleshy and sagging. He also caught sight of a big sanitary pad when she undressed. The woman was large and very unhealthy. Karbelashvili was also unhealthy-looking with his frankfurter-like hands, huge feet and skinny legs. After they had undressed, there 19
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was a strong smell of foot odour. To cut a long story short, as a result of the abovementioned reasons and more besides, Karbelashvili did not greatly enjoy the encounter. Besides, unlike Zhuzhuna he was quite tipsy and as we know, this can affect male potency. Albert no longer had any desire for this woman and he was sorry for having wasted his money. He was sorry, too, for the patriarchal fridge, which he had let go for a song. As they lay together, Zhuzhuna kissed Albert, vigorously. There was no emotion in her kissing - the drunk woman was simply licking his face with her wet lips whilst brushing his hand against her body as if she were reapplying soap after rinsing. It was in such an unpleasant state of pleasure that Albert reached what in medical terms is called orgasm. At precisely that moment, with the help of his female partner, he accidentally touched a mole the size of a big currant, which was located somewhere high between the woman’s thighs, close to her pubic hair. This finally made him feel disgust for the woman. He withdrew his hand from Zhuzhuna’s body and reached for some kind of cloth from under the mattress, wiped away his emissions and then threw the same cloth across to the woman. They lay for some time. Zhuzhuna tried to kiss Albert but he wouldn’t let her. They lay for some time. Albert smoked. The woman stroked his head with her hand, not as a caress but as if she were consoling him.
Then they dressed and the woman phoned her husband and told him she’d bought a fridge. She made him write down the address and asked him to come. Forty minutes later, the husband arrived in a van, shook hands with Albert, and then shyly stepped aside. For some reason Albert liked him and pitied him. The woman took out a bank note for ten lari and held it out to Albert and told him to go to the other room. She gestured to her husband that he should stay in the kitchen. In the other room, 20
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Zhuzhuna embraced Albert once more and kissed him on the lips very strongly like a horse. Then, she let him go but suddenly gave him one more small, ‘graceful’ kiss and tiptoed to the doorway. Then, Albert and Zhuzhuna’s husband, with a lot of effort and groaning, took the fridge to the stairs and, because the lift was out of order, carried it down while Zhuzhuna shrieked irritatingly, gave useless advice, got under their feet and generally disturbed them. When they were halfway down the stairwell, the light went out.
Finally, the fridge was in the van and Albert climbed up the dark stairs, entered his flat, locked the door, lay on the bed, switched on the radio and reached for the leftover bread and sausage. He began to chew and finally fell asleep amongst the remaining bits of food. After a while, he was woken up by a headache and an unpleasant dryness in his mouth. He got up, drank some water, undressed and lay down again. The water had initially made him feel better but when he lay down, he felt dizzy and a feeling of nausea forced him to run to the toilet. He rushed there barefoot, threw his arms around the toilet bowl and vomited several times. In spite of aiming for the depths of the bowl, he made quite a mess on the floor. He then went to the bathroom, carelessly washed his face and hands, poured some water on his feet because there was vomit on them - and staggered out of the bathroom. He drank some more water and threw himself on the bed. The bed still smelled of Zhuzhuna’s perfume, which irritated Albert even more. That night, Albert had a vivid dream in which he went into his own kitchen and up to the patriarchal fridge. The fridge motor was on and producing shrieking noises. The fridge was shaking and trying to jump out of its tiled border. In the dream, Albert opened the fridge door and reached in for a nickel bowl, which was jumping around from the vibrations. There was some stew 21
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in the bowl and also a dinner spoon. Karbelashvili stirred the stew and was pleasantly surprised when he discovered that it was warm. He slurped a spoonful and stirred it again, in order to get some meat this time. He caught a piece but when he saw it, he screamed in terror. The meat was a part of Zhuzhuna’s fat body – a big piece with a mole like a currant on its boiled skin and a little tuft of hair. Albert Karbelashvili woke up with a start but calmed down a little when he realised that it was only a dream, which would fade and exist only as a vague reminder of an experience which had left an unpleasant taste in the mouth. On the other hand, he could look on the bright side. Life was still possible because Albert Karbelashvili still had the money which he got for his old patriarchal fridge – fifteen laris and thirty-five tetri.
First published in
Top Fifteen Georgian Short Stories of 2001-2002, Bakur Sulakauri Publishing, Tblisi, Georgia
ISBN 99928-914-4-0
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