Enemy

Translated by Leo Shtutin; Published in Beyond Words and Datura Literary Journal

Cast a careful eye around and you shall find but a handful of individuals to whom Bet is of interest. One of these is his enemy. Bet has never seen this enemy. He cannot so much as imagine what this enemy looks like. Is he dealing with a man or a child? A woman or an oldster? The enemy is ageless. The enemy knows Bet well, has studied all his wonts. About the enemy Bet, too, knows a good deal, but the enemy’s outward aspect and place of habitation remain mysteries to him. The enemy never materialises in locales where Bet has been lying in wait. Tireless, Bet continues to search. And though this search has as yet yielded no fruit, Bet remains hopeful. He is certain that his enemy exists. He wants their paths to cross, so that he might peer into his enemy’s face and discover at long last why he is hated. Many’s the gathering or party where, with feigned nonchalance, he has riffled through his hosts’ photo albums, poring over unknown faces on the off-chance of spotting his enemy amongst them. Peculiar things are happening to Bet. Arriving somewhere on a work visit, he senses—no, he is certain that his enemy was in the building only moments ago. But when he makes enquiries—anyone seen any strangers about?—staff are at a loss, and shake their heads in disapproval. Bet’s antics strike them as undignified. Still, Bet remains convinced his enemy is lurking in the wings. To what end, though? Bet has no answer. Had his enemy wanted to destroy him, his destruction could long since have been achieved. Where is it directed, this hatred?..  The uncertainty gnaws away at him. He climbs the crooked staircase to his sixth-floor room and locks the door behind him. Small though it may be, the room is his refuge from the enemy. How many enemies exist on this earth no one can say. But they’re out there, wandering the world beyond these walls. Hated as he is, Bet must show no mercy. Abrim with ill will, the world is tearing at his door. From a creaky kitchen-table drawer Bet produces an ancient box full of rat poison. The poison may have lost its potency: Bet bought it at a flea market a long time ago. But this is now of no consequence. Bet flings open the window and clambers onto the sill, box in hand. Down below, multitudes of passersby hurry about their business. Bet lets loose a scream and, standing there on the sixth-floor sill, sends the box and its poison plummeting onto the heads of his enemies. Passersby freeze in their tracks, craning their necks to watch Bet. Then, snapping back to their senses, they flee. The city streets empty out, enemies bolting. Silence returns to the room. Slow, clumsy, Bet climbs down from the sill. The door to his room is locked, the window is flung open. Bet wheels round, and his gaze meets the mirror at the head of the bed. He eyes it fixedly. The final enemy is staring him down. Bet leaps onto the windowsill…