White Niggers
Chapter 48
Capital City Lights restaurant, Fischhof 3, 1st district of Vienna
Saturday, September 7th, 2019, 17:30
"What do you want to talk about?" Buba says.
"You can talk a bit about yourself and what you do," Timur says.
"I've done so much that I can speak for hours about it," Buba says. "There is lots about me in newspapers and on television. I neither want to bore you, nor that Louisa."
"Lisa," Timur says.
"Whatever," Buba says.
Buba looks at Lisa when he says that.
He is insulting her on purpose, Timur thinks. I don't understand what he wants.
Lisa looks at Timur. They still hold hands.
"I guess we better go," Timur whispers to Lisa. "I am sorry for him. I really am."
"I'd rather stay," Liss whispers. "I want to see the end of this show."
Lisa presses Timur's hand and give him a reassuring smile.
"What are you two scheming about, whispering?" Zoe says.
Zoe is shining and self-confident as a sadist in a uniform.
She probably wants to see me and Lisa being humiliated by my own dad, whom she plays as she wants using her coquettishness, Timur thinks.
"You should re-educate your boy about modern politics," Zoe says to Buba. "I have observed him over a long time, and I fear he is turning from a vatnik into a Russian Nazi."
"Is that so?" Buba says.
"It is, indeed," Zoe says. "What's worse, he is infecting Lisa – who he thinks is his girlfriend – with his toxic Austrophobia."
"Austrophobia," Buba says. "Do you know that inventing new words is a sign of superb intelligence?"
"I do now," Zoe says. She gives Boba a lip-bite smile.
"How come you didn't bring your Manfred here?" Lisa says to Zoe.
"Just for the record: I am Timur's girlfriend," Lisa says to Buba.
"My condolences," Buba says to Lisa.
Zoe laughs.
Few things hurt more than being treated by your own father as a white nigger, Timur thinks.
Timur sees flames in Lisa's eyes.
I am under his spell of restraint, Timur thinks. But maybe she isn't.
"Is it your family's tradition to insult your son in front of strangers?" Lisa says.
"I'm here to enjoy myself, not to hold discussions," Buba says. "There is another time and place for that."
"And when is that?" Lisa says.
Something changed in the way Lisa looks at him, Timur thinks.
Lisa removes her hand from Timur's.
Here comes another insult, Timur thinks.
He clenches his fists.
It feels as if adrenaline is filling my brain, Timur thinks. There is so much of it that you can drown all the lethargy, all the apathy in it that prevented me from giving this asshole what he deserves.
"Next Thursday, at the Diplomatic Academy," Buba says. "You are invited."
That was unexpected, Timur thinks.
Buba sits with his body turned to Zoe. When he speaks with Lisa or Timur, he needs to turn his head.
"What will happen at the diplomatic academy next Thursday?" Lisa says.
"I will be holding a speech about Russian imperialism in the post-Soviet space," Buba says.
"Does it include the Ukraine?" Lisa says.
"How can it not?" Buba says. "It's the focal point of Russian aggression."
"How interesting!" Lisa says. "I am writing a dissertation on reparations for Ukraine."
Is she trying to make a good impression on him as my future wife, or is she like Zoe? Timur thinks. She can't be. I hope she isn't.
Buba turns in his chair so that he now faces Lisa. All the buffoonery is gone. He is looking with the glance of a sage at Lisa.
"Tell me more," Buba says.
Lisa starts talking about the subject of her dissertation. Timur has heard the arguments so many times that he could probably lay them out in his sleep.
Buba is listening attentively. He has forgotten about Zoe. From time to time, Buba nods and gives approving remarks.
Zoe goes to the bathroom and slams the door behind her.
It's all good now, Timur thinks. They've started talking. He stopped insulting her. And me.
It feels too good to be true.
And then, Timur realizes why it isn’t.