{"id":34752,"date":"2012-07-02T13:00:13","date_gmt":"2012-07-02T17:00:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=34752"},"modified":"2013-01-09T11:20:09","modified_gmt":"2013-01-09T16:20:09","slug":"on-uncle-vanya-part-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2012\/07\/02\/on-uncle-vanya-part-one\/","title":{"rendered":"On Uncle Vanya<\/em>: Part 1"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>I was in Saint Petersburg, at a restaurant owned by a friend. It was in a strange building, a kind of old mansion. He took me back through several empty ballrooms\u2014you could feel the springs beneath the wooden floors, installed many years ago, for dancing. We sat together in a small room. It had only two tables, and its windows were hung with heavy curtains. It was one of those private dining rooms that you read about in Russian novels, and my friend began to bring me different dishes. I recognized only the blini with black and red caviar; everything else was new to me. At this time, thirteen years ago, I was a wine drinker, but they did not have wine worth drinking in Saint Petersburg then, and he was pouring me glasses of vodka. Then several government officials arrived, important men, and he left me alone.<\/p>\n

I noticed my waitress was beautiful. She was taller than me, with high aristocratic cheekbones, pale skin, lips full of blood, big firm tits. Very much the woman you want, if you want a Russian beauty. The type that has since made exported Russian prostitutes famous throughout Europe, the Middle East, and (lately) even large cities in the U.S.<\/p>\n

I was determined to have sex with a Russian whom I did not have to pay. <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

She faked a smile every time she bent to serve me. I could see she was unhappy. She wore a simple black dress with expensive-looking seams sewn in the back. I wanted to ask her where she had bought a dress like that in Saint Petersburg. It must have been a gift from a lover. It was not revealing, though beneath it, from the knee to the ankle, her legs shone. The dress was expensive and it had worn well, but I could see its lining drooped below the hem in back. Her cheap heels were practical for waiting tables. <\/p>\n

My friend had complained that they were not doing business. <\/p>\n

\u201cThe problem is, people still don\u2019t understand money here,\u201d he said. He had gotten his M.B.A. at Northwestern before returning to Russia to become an entrepreneur. \u201cThey would come to the restaurant if I gave them a government coupon, but they think there is something servile about hard cash.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it a slow night?\u201d I asked her.<\/p>\n

She spoke precisely, but I could hear that her vocabulary was limited.<\/p>\n

\u201cI work in the nighttime,\u201d she said. \u201cIt is nice to have an American here.\u201d I realized I had used a colloquialism.<\/p>\n

I did not tell her that I was Canadian. By the corners of her eyes and the way she held her mouth I could tell that she\u2019d been drinking. I wondered if my friend let them drink or if she had been stealing drinks. I was in the jewelry business at this time, but I also owned a wine bar, and my waiters were always stealing glasses of wine from me. I didn\u2019t mind so much if it was a cheap bottle. But naturally they stole what they wished they could buy.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you have a glass of vodka with me?\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked over her shoulder, and then nodded. The bottle on the table was half empty. I poured her a heavy glass.<\/p>\n

She drank it in two swallows.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will bring you the fish.\u201d<\/p>\n

I patted the sofa beside me. It was a small love seat in gaudy blue and green velvet, very worn, with gold tassels hanging around the base.<\/p>\n

\u201cI cannot sit,\u201d she said. But then she sat and drank another glass of vodka. She\u2019s tall, I thought. I didn\u2019t want her to get drunk. I put my arm around her. She stood again.<\/p>\n

Fortune favors the bold. I began to lie. I said, \u201cI am an American billionaire. I\u2019m opening hotels here. We could have a drink together after work. If you can\u2019t sit now.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head. \u201cI am married.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo am I,\u201d I said. I had been separated for two years, but the divorce was right around the corner. \u201cYou could put your husband to bed and then meet me.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was frowning. But she hadn\u2019t walked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne drink,\u201d I said. \u201cWith your new American friend. Perhaps Karel\u201d\u2014that was my friend\u2019s name\u2014\u201chas a bottle of champagne. Do you like champagne?\u201d<\/p>\n

Karel had no champagne. I had asked him earlier.<\/p>\n

She said, \u201cI cannot. I go home in half an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n

I said, \u201cBefore you go, come sit and have one more glass of vodka. I\u2019ll buy it.\u201d<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n

I said, \u201cSometimes it\u2019s easier to talk to someone you don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

A different waitress, a middle-aged woman in an apron, brought me my next courses. Before dinner was over, my friend came back and I asked him about the waitress. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t really know her husband,\u201d he said. \u201cHe is an electrician.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now I really wanted to fuck her. So I stood up and apologized to my friend\u2014I knew he would not allow me to pay for the meal\u2014and headed for the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cI forgot about a date,\u201d I said to him. \u201cI will see you later at your club.\u201d We were meeting with the friend who had brought me to Russia after midnight. \u201cWhere is the waitress? I should give her a little something, and say goodbye.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh don\u2019t leave her a tip, that\u2019s not necessary. But if you want to see her she is around the corner there.\u201d He smiled at me, and I could not tell if it was conspiratorial or he was simply amused.<\/p>\n

I found her resetting a table\u2014the government officials were drunk, calling to her loudly\u2014and I waved to her politely and began walking out the door. I walked quickly, as though in a hurry. But before I got into the first ballroom I slowed so that she could catch me. I heard her plastic shoes on the wood behind me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are leaving?\u201d she said. \u201cBut there is more food.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI forgot about a date,\u201d I said. \u201cWith a friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her face changed. <\/p>\n

She wasn\u2019t drunk.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t want a vodka?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI forgot,\u201d I said. \u201cMy friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d she said. I could see she was disappointed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said, and began to walk away again.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should have vodka,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you buying me a vodka?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou said we would have a vodka.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI could stay if you are buying me a vodka,\u201d I said. \u201cIf you will have one more with me. But then I have to go meet my friend. Afterward I could come back if you like.\u201d<\/p>\n

She took me to a different room, an unused room, and came back with a bottle of vodka and two glasses. We sat together and drank the vodka quickly. I kissed her. I held her mouth and her neck when I kissed her\u2014the way you kiss a woman the first time you kiss her. She had bad breath. I thought of fucking her right there in the dinner room. There were only four chairs but they were sturdy armchairs and one would have worked nicely.<\/p>\n

She said, \u201cAcross from the restaurant there is a park. You can wait for me there. I will come. First I put my husband to bed. Then I come.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood up and left. I went back to my hotel, and I drank, and I waited. I was watching myself, making sure not to get too drunk.<\/p>\n

After midnight, in the park, I brushed the snow off a bench and sat. It was an enormous park with few trees and lanterns all around the perimeter. The snow was three feet deep on the ground but none was falling. It was very cold, too cold for snowfall. The sky was black and the stars were bright like they only are on a bitterly cold night in winter. I saw a man walking his dog\u2014a huge brown dog that shuffled its legs\u2014a few hundred feet away. They came toward me. As they got closer I saw that the dog was a bear. The man held it by a rope. Then I saw its neck was raw from the rope and he was not eating well. He couldn\u2019t have weighed more than a hundred pounds. I had never seen a skinny bear. His owner started pulling on the rope to make the bear dance. I gave him some money but he kept pulling on the rope to try to get the bear on its hind legs.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo away,\u201d I said. \u201cGet out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n

He would not look at me but he yelled at the bear, and the bear rose to his hind legs and rocked back and forth.<\/p>\n

Clancy Martin is the author of <\/em>How to Sell <\/a>and is a contributing editor at <\/em>Harper\u2019s Magazine.<\/p>\n

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I was in Saint Petersburg, at a restaurant owned by a friend. It was in a strange building, a kind of old mansion. He took me back through several empty ballrooms\u2014you could feel the springs beneath the wooden floors, installed many years ago, for dancing. We sat together in a small room. It had only […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":126,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4393],"tags":[447,8004,4213,123,7194,5799],"class_list":["post-34752","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-first-person","tag-russia","tag-st-petersburg","tag-theatre","tag-travel","tag-uncle-vanya","tag-vodka"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nOn Uncle Vanya: Part 1 by Clancy Martin<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"July 2, 2012 \u2013 I was in Saint Petersburg, at a restaurant owned by a friend. 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