Two Months and Three Days (Sinister Romance #1)

Chapter 2 (part I)

"And you! No one wants you because you're like a hedgehog, all spines," Nellie said.

These words had made Arina the Hedgehog literally fly out of the apartment in her stupid baggy, denim dress. She didn't want to discuss it. She didn't want to know what Nellie thought about it all. She didn't want to learn the details of Nellie's private life. For a Saturday morning, Arina already knew more than she wanted to know. She just couldn't figure out where to go so that she wouldn't have to go back to the kitchen in their fifth-floor rented apartment. She just needed to spend the day somewhere. Just the day because, of course, eventually she would have to go back.

"I'm not standing on the corner wearing a leather miniskirt. Who do you think I am?! Don't you dare judge me!"

She wasn't judging. That's exactly why she ran away, to cool down a bit so that the bright flashes before her eyes would go out and her imagination would stop painting vivid, vulgar pictures of the private life of Nellie Zharkova. She had to leave to avoid losing her temper, before she started asking unnecessary, painful questions.

At the end of the day, what business was it of hers who her friend Nellie slept with and what she got in return?

Human streams slowly flowed around Arina thickening near the underpass entrance. It should be warmer in the subway. She had her student card, a Moscow transit pass, and about twelve hundred rubles in her wallet. That was all she could spend before payday, which wasn't until . . . it was better not to think about it.

The only thing Arina could think about was the sudden realization as to why this Sergei guy sometimes gave her a sultry look and a dirty smile. If he "took care" of Nellie once or twice a week on the basis of her rate and the very essence of commodity-money relations, then what did he think of Arina?! After all, Nellie and she lived together!

Arina shook her head vigorously and headed towards the subway.

No one would understand that she was simply renting a part of a room from her friend, and it was literally just a couch in a corner of the kitchen. She wasn't making enough money to rent a separate room, not to mention an apartment.

Of course, except for the situation where Nellie would moan, shake and scream three times a week, preventing Arina from studying. Her loud screams à la German porn made Arina cover her ears, partly because the moans and sounds of the squeaking bed behind the wall made her extremely uncomfortable, blushing at her own uninvited thoughts.

Where was she supposed to go now? One option was to take the ring line, except that she didn't have any textbooks with her. What would she do the entire time? Memorize the instructions on how to use the subway? If she went to a coffee shop, she would have to order something. If she went to a cinema, she would have to buy a ticket. The smell of food was too strong at the malls and Arina hadn't even had breakfast, although she could probably spend some money on a loaf of bread. She wondered what time Sergei would leave their little nest of paid-for passion.

In general, Arina loved walking around the city, the old Moscow downtown with its short mansions decorated with snow-white stuccowork and statues. During her first year in Moscow, she had plenty of time to walk around the Boulevard Ring and the streets leading to the Garden Ring. Moscow could be drab and dirty on wet autumn days, covering the cracked side streets with brownish-yellow leaves. It could be marshy and dank in winter, ruining footwear and covering one's coat hem with salt. Moscow, the unfaithful mistress, would shamelessly deceive you when it came to a spring that was supposed to come but got stuck somewhere on the road in a traffic jam.

Now it was the beginning of summer, Arina's second in Moscow. In summer, Moscow turned into a gorgeous maiden, a model from an expensive perfume commercial with the scent of daffodil, elegant and inspiring. Arina liked Moscow almost as much as she liked Vladimir, her hometown. She would walk around the city all day long if only it weren't for the wind and cold.

Her only option was to go to a museum. It wouldn't smell of food, there would be no time limit, and students could usually get discounted tickets - exactly what she needed. Besides, it was an interesting experience. You could spend hours at the Tretyakov Gallery, sitting on a velour bench in front of "The Laundresses" trying to imagine what their lives were like. The only thing was that there were always too many people at the Tretyakov Gallery on a Saturday.

Walking down Ostozhenka Street, Arina stopped in front of the MAMM (Multimedia Art Museum Moscow) sign. She had been there once before and remembered the place very well. It had six spacious floors; photographs in different genres and styles. It was usually pretty quiet. The spacious lobby, comfortable benches and snow-white lines of the sharp-edged, cube-shaped staircase made you want to jump up, spread your wings and fly to the very top.

"How much is a ticket?" Arina asked as she turned away and looked through the glass at the large spherical sculptures displayed on the first floor of the exhibition hall. The exposition was never the same. They said that everything displayed here was cutting-edge.

Art. Arina knew next to nothing about art.