Decision

I walked down the street. Yes, once again. How else is one to move?

This time I wasn’t alone; Afanasy trotted alongside, comically shuffling his paws. From time to time he turned to me and asked, each time changing his intonation:

“Where are we going, Burt?”

I kept walking confidently forward, turning only when I hit a wall. The day was decisive, much could happen today. Or it might remain as before; what mattered was that the decision would be made. Final.

“And still, where are we going, Burt? And why am I here?” Afanasy wouldn’t let up.

I answered slowly and serenely:

“You are here as part of my identity, nothing more. But nothing less either. Without you I couldn’t. So please, trust me — I know what I’m doing.”

“All right, all right, damn it,” he replied in his usual way. “I’m too sincerely attached to you to abandon you in trouble.”

A comedian, damn it. Still, it’s nice to have part of your identity nearby, and a quite independent part at that.

Ahead, a little elephant loomed. The street was deserted, and he had nowhere to go. When he came level with us, he wheezed a greeting, hoping not to hear a reply. I nodded politely, pretending not to recognize him. No need to spoil everyone’s nerves for nothing.

When we turned into the merchants’ quarter, Afanasy hummed thoughtfully. It seemed he was beginning to understand what was happening.

“You really do think everything is good in moderation,” he said in a tone of certainty and shook his head.

After a dozen steps he stopped and stared into my eyes. I silently stared back at him, focusing on the sight of his pupils.

Finally, he frowned and shook his head decisively:

“I’m with you.”

A couple more blocks and we’ll be there. A couple of blocks. Five hundred steps. Five hundred very hard steps that will change everything once and for all.

“Let’s go.”

Spring 2005