Not a Polecat

Has a woman ever grabbed you by the pecker just when you were hoping nobody was watching? One grabbed me. Baba Palashka - may her eyes pop out onto her forehead! Up until that Thursday I had a decent reputation in the village. I was nineteen, and my body had far bigger plans for life than my head did. The head wanted to marry, build a house and not shame my mother. The body wanted Marichka - immediately. But I loved her quietly, in a good householder's way.

I carried water for her, mended her gate, at the evening gatherings I sat where I could see her even from afar, and yet I couldn't get a word out. Once I carried her basket all the way from the market and talked the whole road about the weather and granny's hen. About the hen, good people. Marichka listened and for some reason smiled into her kerchief. And fool that I was, I thought: now there's a clever girl, takes an interest in poultry.

So that day we met in the orchard, the apples were just dropping. She was laughing at something of her own, fixing her hair, bent down to pick up an apple, and straightening up, took hold of my sleeve. And stood close. Oh, far too close. - Mykyta, why are you so red? - The sun. She glanced at the sky. The clouds crawled by, thick as pillows. - Aha, - said Marichka, and off she went. And I was left standing among the apples, feeling that I urgently needed to be alone.

I had no intention of pestering Marichka, I'm a well-brought-up lad. My conscience said the girl was not to be touched. My body proposed another way out. And on that we agreed. All that remained was to find a place. Behind the barn someone was walking about, shifting sheaves. By the river the girls were washing clothes.

In the orchard an old man was sleeping, and sleeping somehow warily. And then I remembered! Of course! Palashka's shed, at the edge of the village. Palashka herself is at the market every Thursday. Behind the shed a woodpile, nettles, a tall fence. Even a mouse never had a better spot.

I checked the yard. Then checked it again. Coughed on purpose, loudly, as if at confession. Nobody answered. Having made sure I was alone, I stood behind the shed, looked around one last time and set about resolving my young man's trouble with my own hands. With one hand I leaned on the shed, with the other I strove to restore Christian peace to my soul. Peace had almost returned. When suddenly something rustled behind my back.

Palashka, a pox on her, was out that morning looking for a hen that had taken to laying in the weeds, and along with it for the furry bastard that was stealing the eggs. Palashka is a practical woman: when something unclear stirs by her shed, first she grabs, then she looks at what it is. How exactly it came about, I cannot explain. But Palashka grabbed me right by the pecker. I screamed. Palashka screamed. The hen she was looking for screamed too.

Strangely enough, the hen was the first to fall silent. Palashka leapt back; I grabbed at my trousers, at the woodpile and at the nettles all at once. - Mykyta?! - Palashka, it's not what you think! - I haven't thought anything yet! - Then don't! - What were you doing here?! - Nothing! Palashka looked down. - That's your nothing? The inexorable hand of fate - in a conversation like that, a well-brought-up man is not granted victory.

- I thought there was a polecat behind the shed! - she justified herself. - And is that how you always catch polecats?! - How else would you catch them? - Palashka shrugged. - Only this one was warmer. After those words there was nothing left for me but to run. I tore off through the nettles, buttoning up on the move and missing every button - mother of mine, why did it have to grow so tall. Palashka shouted after me: - Mykyta, stop! Stop, you fool! I won't tell anyone!

That ending was what the neighbour woman heard from behind the fence. Only the ending. Without the polecat. By noon the village knew the news. First they said Palashka had caught Mykyta behind the shed. Then: Palashka had been with Mykyta behind the shed. Then: Palashka was chasing Mykyta, and he ran, but didn't get away.

By evening it already came out that I had been running to her place for ages and she was teaching me everything. By the inn, Did Svyryd clapped me on the shoulder: - Good lad. One should learn from one's elders. I stared at the ground and twisted my finger till it cracked. I decided to save my reputation. In vain. Every explanation of mine made things worse.

- Is it true Palashka was chasing you? - asks a neighbour. - She wasn't chasing me! - Then what was she doing? - She grabbed me. - By what? I fell silent. The neighbour nodded. - I see. - Then why did she scream? - asks a second one. - Because she saw. - Saw what? I keep silent. And again the same thing: - I see. Nothing was clear to them. But the word had already gone off, like fire across the stubble.

And Palashka never even thought of hiding anything. At the well the women crowded round her with their buckets: - Palashka, so what's this between you and Mykyta? - Well, I thought it was a polecat. - And? - Girls, it's better than a polecat. And she goes on drawing her water. That's it. After a thing like that you might as well never leave the house. And she, meeting me in the street, would ask in front of everyone: - Well, Mykyta, has the polecat stopped making mischief?

I blushed so hard you could have lit a pipe off my nose. The village's laughter I could have survived. But Marichka. For three days I skirted her yard through the back gardens. On the fourth she herself waylaid me by the gate. - Mykyta. - Marichka, I can explain. - No need. The ground swayed beneath me. - Palashka already explained.

I covered my face with my hand. Through my fingers I could see Marichka biting her lip so as not to laugh. And clearly holding on with her last strength. - Was it because of me? - she asked. - What? - That you ran behind the shed. - No. She narrowed her eyes. - Well, a little. She kept looking. - Fine! Because of you. Marichka finally laughed, but without any malice - very warmly.

- You fool. - I know. - I waited half the summer for you to invite me home even once. And you go running behind sheds. She took my arm. - Walk me? - Where? - Home, Mykyta, closer to the bed. - Ahh. I'll walk you. And off we went. Never in my life had walking felt so good. Passing Palashka's yard, I felt a chill under my ribs. - Marichka! - Palashka called from her gate. - What? - Don't let him stray too far from the sheds!

I wanted to sink through the earth and take that old woman with me, may a duck kick her. But Marichka laughed and held my hand tighter. And in the autumn the whole village came to the wedding, and for some reason every single one of them wanted to see what Palashka would give. The old woman came to the wedding with a small pot of goose fat, tied with a ribbon. - This is for the groom, - she said, and set it down in front of me.

I was already afraid to ask, but Marichka wasn't. - And what does he need it for? Palashka looked at me. - So that next time he won't suffer dry. The whole table went down at once. I sat there thinking that it wasn't too late, after all, to run away from my own wedding. These days I know two things. First: when you love a girl, it's better to tell her so in words. Second: Palashka doesn't always go to the market on Thursdays.