el.angeleyes-第40部分

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　The　first　night；　Natasha　Mayakova　had　told　her　students　that　this　class　would　not　have　been　possible　before　perestroika。　She　said　this　with　the　kind　of　pride　someone　tells　her　girlfriends　that　her　father　has　granted　her　the　privilege　of　staying　out　past　midnight。　Irina　thought　the　speech　disgusting　in　its　naivete；　frightening　in　its　implied　condescension。
　〃Here　we　will　study　such　American　playwrights　as　Edward　Albee；〃　Natasha　continued。　〃I　have　chosen　Albee　because　in　plays　such　as　Tiny　Alice　and　A　Delicate　Balance；　we　can　discern　distinct　Chekhovian　antecedents。　The　characters'　existential　terror　is　not　so　far　from　the　despair　with　which　Chekhov　imbued　his　characters　in　Three　Sisters　or　The　Cherry　Orchard。　Both　Chekhov　and　Albee　understood　the　dynamics　of　inertia；　and　its　ultimate　power　to　affect　an　audience。〃
　Natasha　asked　them　to　do　〃cold　readings；〃　because；　she　said；　〃I　want　to　see　what　you　can　do　when　I　throw　you　without　warning　into　an　icy　stream。〃
　She　chose　two　students；　one　of　whom　was　Irina；　to　read　passages　from　Albee's　Who's　Afraid　of　Virginia　Woolf？　Natasha　asked　Irina　to　play　Martha；　the　role　acted　by　Elizabeth　Taylor　in　the　American　film　version　Irina　had　seen　in　a　tiny　Cambridge　revival　theater。　Irina　remembered　sitting　in　the　dark；　surrounded　by　American　students　and　the　smell　of　popcorn；　and　feeling　as　if　she　were　swimming　naked　in　a　sylvan　mountain　lake。　She　had　felt　so　。。。　free。　And　then　the　enlarged　image　of　Elizabeth　Taylor　had　sprung　up　in　front　of　her；　her　acting　transporting　Irina　away；　away；　away　。。。
　After　class　was　over　Natasha　Mayakova　asked　her　to　stay　behind。　Irina　was　immediately　terrified　that；　somehow；　despite　her　precautions；　Natasha　knew　who　she　was　and　was　now　prepared　to　confront　her。
　When　they　were　alone；　Natasha　said；　〃Do　you　have　time　for　a　glass　of　tea？〃
　Because　it　was　fairly　late；　they　went　to　the　night　bar　at　the　Metropole　Hotel；　one　of　the　few　places　in　Moscow　to　stay　open　past　midnight。　Muscovites　often　frequented　the　hotel　because　it　had　been　a　favorite　speaking　spot　of　Lenin's。　Now　it　seemed　faded；　worn；　almost　shabby　beneath　the　ornate　gilt。
　When　they　had　ordered；　Natasha　said；　〃I　wanted　a　chance　to　speak　with　you；　Katya；　because　your　reading　of　Albee　intrigued　me。〃　She　stirred　sugar　into　her　tea；　watched　the　crystals　melting。　〃It's　from　Finland；　this　sugar；　did　you　know　that？　I　don't　know　why　there's　never　enough　sugar　and　never　any　milk　here。　Where　does　it　all　go；　do　you　suppose？　I've　heard　that　White　Star　hijacks　the　trucks　and　trains　that　bring　these　staples　to　Moscow；　but　it's　difficult　to　credit　such　stories。〃
　Irina　said　nothing；　sensing　that　Natasha　was　merely　musing；　not　asking　a　question。　Instead　she　dissected　the　other　woman　with　her　eyes。　Natasha　was　indeed　a　beauty：　blond；　blue…eyed；　with　a　dynamic　face　that　might　have　been　judged　overly　aggressive　save　for　her　mouth；　which　was　soft；　gentle；　inviting。　Irina　hated　that　face。
　〃Who's　Afraid　of　Virginia　Woolf？　is　not　an　easy　play　to　decipher；〃　Natasha　said。　She　took　a　sip　of　her　tea；　wrinkled　her　nose。　〃Not　strong　enough。　This　must　be　for　the　tourists！〃　She　gave　Irina　a　small　smile　that　was　at　once　so　shy　and　so　genuine　that　Irina　was　taken　aback。
　〃And　also　the　characters　are　so　plex；〃　Natasha　continued；　〃perhaps　also　stupefyingly　American。〃　She　paused；　as　if　momentarily　unsure　how　to　continue。　〃You　handled　the　character　well。　Very　well；　indeed。〃
　〃Thank　you。〃　Irina　thought　Natasha　so　glamorous；　with　the　actor's　natural　ease　and　grace　in　all　situations；　that　she　had　begun　to　grind　her　teeth　in　envy　and　rage。
　〃As　I've　no　doubt　you　are　aware；　Martha　requires　a　certain　inner　rage；　like　a　pot　untended　for　too　long；　simmering　on　the　stove；　its　contents　about　to　burst　out　and　scar　the　kitchen　forever。〃　She　looked　up　at　Irina　and；　with　the　actor's　impeccable　timing；　said；　''But　I　sensed　in　you　a　very　real　anger；　a　deep　pool　of　rage　from　which　you　created　your　Martha。　I　wanted　to　speak　to　you　of　this　anger　because　I　wonder　if　you　are　aware　how　pletely　you　are　in　its　grip。〃
　Irina　did　not　know　what　to　make　of　this；　was　she；　perhaps；　offended　by　it？　But　then　she　thought　of　her　recurring　nightmare；　her　living　prison；　where　even　the　moon　was　barred。　Sometimes　she　awoke　from　this　nightmare　so　upset　that　she　felt　nauseous。　Could　that　be　the　result　of　rage？　She　looked　at　Natasha　Mayakova　with　renewed　suspicion。　She　had　had　friends　for　years　who　would　never　think　to　ask　her　such　a　personal　and　disturbing　question。　〃Is　this　more　of　your　'perestroika'　talk？〃　she　said。
　Natasha　gave　her　little　laugh　again；　and　there　was　the　shyness　again；　playing　around　her　face　like　an　imp；　defusing　Irina's　deliberate　sharpness。　〃Oh；　that　foolishness。　Well；　it's　what　my　students　want　to　hear；　what　they　expect。　It's　harmless；　really；　but　I've　found　it　immediately　puts　them　at　their　ease。〃
　〃It　isn't　foolish；〃　Irina　said；　〃It's　dangerous　talk。〃
　〃Really？　In　what　way？〃
　''What　your　'harmless'　speech　says　is；　shouldn't　we　be　happy　now；　shouldn't　we　be　content　because　today　is　the　day　we　are　allowed　to　run　around　Daddy's　garden　without　a　leash。〃
　〃What's　wrong　with　that？〃
　〃It's　all　wrong；〃　Irina　said。　〃Because　the　leash　isn't　the　issue。　Woof！　Woof！　We're　still　treated　like　dogs。〃
　Natasha　ordered　vodka　for　them　both　and　a　platter　of　zakuski…a　kind　of　Russian　antipasto。　When　they　were　alone　again；　she　said；　〃Olga；　Masha；　and　Irina；　Chekhov's　three　sisters；　sit　around　for　hours　on　end　talking　about　how；　one　day；　they　will　get　to　Moscow。　They　never　do；　of　course；　and　by　the　end　of　the　play　we've　discovered　that　they　live　only　a　few　kilometers　from　the　city。　I　think　this　is　what　you　are　speaking　of。''
　Irina　again　felt　overe　by　the　irrational　wave　of　jealousy；　as　if　she　wanted　to　shriek　at　Natasha；　What　are　you　doing　with　Valeri　Bondasenko？　Are　you　making　love　to　him　every　afternoon　before　rehearsals？　Or　do　you　share　his　bed　on　the　nights　when　I　am　not　there？
　Ridiculous！　Impossible！　Yet　why　was　she　thinking　it？　Irina　held　herself　together　with　an　effort；　wondering　again　whether　she　was　on　the　brink　of　a　breakdown。　She　said；　trying　to　clear　her　mind　of　its　disturbing　emotional　clutter；　〃How　smug　you　are。　You　think　you　know　just　what　you　are　and　what　you're　doing。　You　run　your　little　school　secure　in　the　thought　that　you're　preserving　a　better　place　in　the　state　for　women。　But　the　truth　is；　you're　blind。
　〃You're　part　of　the　system；　and；　in　a　sense；　you're　worse　than　the　KGB。　Everyone　knows　what　the　KGB　is　and　what　it　does。　It's　no　secret。　But　you　are　one　thing　while　pretending　to　be　another。　You　perpetuate　the　system　by　telling　your　students　how　well　off　they　are　now；　how　grateful　to　the　state　they　must　be　for　their　new；　improved　status。　But　what　really　is　your　message？　Don't　plain；　be　happy；　do　as　you're　told。　Look　how　well…off　you　are。　Look　how　free。　It's　bullshit！〃
　〃You　must　want　to　leave　my　class；　then；〃　Natasha　said；　finishing　off　her　tea。
　〃No；　I　don't。　I　can　put　up　with　the　bullshit；　just　as　long　as　I　learn　how　to　act。〃
　〃It　seems　to　me；〃　Natasha　Mayakova　said　as　the　drinks　and　food　were　served；　〃that　you　won't　need　many　lessons。〃
　They　ate　in　silence　for　some　time。　Irina　was　acutely　aware　of　the　tourists；　especially　their　clothes；　which　she　loved　to　look　at　and　longed　to　wear。　In　Boston；　in　a　lingerie　store；　she　had　tried　on　a　silk　Charmeuse　teddy；　and　had　almost　passed　out　from　the　erotic　sensation　of　the　divine　material　gliding　against　her　flesh。　She　shot　a　clandestine　glance　at　Natasha。　How　she　wished　she　could　share　her　decadent　memory　with　someone。　Her　whole　mind　ached　to　open　itself　up；　to　let　the　secrets　piling　up　inside　spill　out；　to　share；　to　share。
　〃In　acting；〃　Natasha　said　softly；　〃we　learn　to　dissect　the　different　personality　types　found　in　lead　and　secondary　roles。　You　have　proved　tonight　that　you　already　possess　that　talent。〃
　She　said　it　in　such　a　way　that　Irina　found　herself　saying；　〃I'm　sorry；〃　when　she　knew　she　could　not　possibly　mean　it。
　〃Don't　be；〃　Natasha　said。　She　wiped　her　lips　on　a　paper　cocktail　napkin。　〃I　imagine　I　deserved　it。　I　haven't　been　carved　up　as　skillfully　since　my　own　first　weeks　in　acting　class。　I　had　an　instructor　who　was　a　marvelous　actor；　but　he　was　an　absolute　ogre　in　the　classroom。　I　worshiped　him；　and　nearly　died　of　delight　when　he　accepted　me　into　his　class。　From　then　on　I　burst　into　tears　in　front　of　him　more　often　than　not。　I　used　to　lie　awake　at　night；　replaying　his　murderous　criticisms；　miserable　as　could　be。　I　could　hear　his　rantings　echoing　in　my　dreams。　His　words　stalked　me　like　an　apparition；　until　all　I　could　think　about　was　making　him　stop。〃
　〃Did　you？〃　Irina　asked。
　〃Yes。　I　became　an　acplished　actor。〃　Natasha　ordered　more　vodka。　〃That's　all　he　ever　wanted　from　me。　He　saw　in　me…as　opposed　to　the　majority　of　his　other　students…a　potential　for　greatness。　Those　are　his　words；　not　mine。　He　made　certain　I　lived　up　to　that　potential。〃
　〃By　making　you　miserable？〃
　〃By　forcing　me　to　look　inside　myself；　to　find　that　potential　and　mine　it　for　the　precious　ore　he　knew　was　there。〃　Natasha　paused　while　the　empty　glasses　were　replaced。　〃You　see；　Katya；　I　was　an　orphan。　I　was　brought　up　in　a　state　institution　and　I　had　inside　of　me　a　ball　of　ice；　a　rage　against　an　unknown　source。　Did　my　parents　die　or　had　they　abandoned　me？　I　had　no　idea。　Either　way　I　hated　them；　because　they　had　rejected　me。　Their　memory　lived　inside　me　like　a　living　thing；　a　malignant　growth；　eating　at　me。
　〃Where　did　I　e　from？　My　mother；　my　father。　My　grandparents。　Most　people　know。　It　seems；　in　fact；　such　an　elementary　bit　of　knowledge　that　nobody　thinks　of　it；　it's　taken　for　granted。　For　me　it　was　like　walking　around　with　a　wound　that　never　healed；　a　chunk　of　flesh　that　was　forever　gone；　for　which　no　one　could　ever　provide　an　adequate　prosthesis。　I　was　different；　an　outsider。　I　was　always　aware　of　this；　but　never　more　painfully　so　than　during　holidays　when　families　reunited；　drank　and　ate　together；　rubbed　elbows；　laughed　and　told　stories。〃　Natasha　was　focused　on　something　inside　herself；　and　her　irises　had　gone　very　dark。　〃I　remember；　I　remember　。。。　An　actor's　curse；　to　remember　everything。〃　She　touched　her　finger　to　the　vodka。　〃When　I　was　growing　up；　more　than　anything　else　I