Ribbons by Pavel Pryazhko

Ribbons

by Pavel Pryazhko translated by Sasha Dugdale White and red ribbons hang on iron railings. The railings are there to hold back the encroaching green from the yard of the block. The ribbons flutter in the breeze. The railings are joined to a transformer and on the brick housing of the transformer someone has scrawled: ‘fuck pigs’ and ‘fuck the police’. The wind has blown the leaves from the trees and they rustle under the footsteps of two policemen. Masks cover their mouths. They stop. The policemen are in their navy-blue summer uniform, they’re young and skinny and the uniform doesn’t sit right on them. The wind carries the leaves. A child passes on a scooter and a leaf sticks to the wheel of the scooter and circles round and round. The policemen turn back. A girl with a child collects chestnuts under a tree.

IGOR. I mean, he’s got to fucking argue it out. Always got to have the last word, hasn’t he. I said to him, where do you get that you’re in the majority? Very progressive, upending the whole system. I mean, this is what all their propaganda is about. Personally I reckon being, like, categorical is a bad thing. There’s nothing I’m afraid of.

SERGEI. Yeah, sounds about right, yeah.

A lanky young man stops by the policemen and spreads out his arms. The girl under the tree notices him and smiles. She is holding some yellow maple leaves. The child turns and sees his daddy and totters towards him on little legs. The round damp chestnuts fall out of the child’s hand and roll along the path. The lights change to green and traffic begins moving along the road. The man takes the child in his arms and begins throwing him up in the air, and they laugh. The girl holding the leaf bouquet comes over and starts laughing, too. They appear to be encircled in light.

SERGEI takes off his blue policeman’s hat and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he puts the hat back on.

IGOR. What? Come over here, you, what’s that you’re shouting?

A man in a leather jacket standing a little further away by a road sign is shouting something crossly. The wind is ruffling the thinning hair that sticks to his head.

IGOR. If I broke the law, or I did something wrong, then right, I’m responsible! I’m part of the system, I made my choice. So what’s this got to do with me, eh?

The man takes off his glasses and wipes them. Everyone watching quickly looks away and moves off. The lanky young man carries his child on his shoulders, the girl beside him, waving the leaf bouquet, then she takes his hand.

They walk away.

IGOR. I mean, are these people right in the head? At some point I’m not going to be able to hold back. Chucking their bricks and firecrackers at the lads, fuckssake.

SERGEI. We’re all with you there, I reckon. If they try it on.

IGOR. I’m not scared of anyone or anything. Bring it on.

SERGEI gets a sunflower seed out of his trouser pocket and lifts his mask to eat it. He spits the black husk into the grass. A little bit of the husk hangs on his shaven chin and he brushes it off with his hand. He gets another seed out and eats it. Birds land noisily in the maple tree. A sudden gust of wind shakes the top of the

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tree and the birds lift back into the air screeching and fly off in the direction of the block. There they disappear behind the grey roof, into the autumn sky.

A group of maintenance workers cross the yard. The ring of their heavy boots echoes in the archway. They part ways by a high concrete colonnade. Their FOREMAN turns to walk along the front of the house, sorting through keys on a keyring as he goes. Two others, in green jackets, continue straight ahead. Damp earth scatters from the treads on their boots. People carry long metal constructions out of the wide open doors of an office and load them into a minibus. A gust of wind tears leaves from the trees and they fall on the policemen. IGOR brushes a brown leaf from his shoulder. While the workers are present, the policemen don’t talk together. They stand there and between them the red and white ribbons flutter on the iron railings. The FOREMAN comes over and throws a receipt into the rubbish bin. The ventilation pipes from the building are covered on all sides with graffitied red-and-white flags.

SERGEI. Hey. Start over here.

The FOREMAN comes over to the railings, bends down and sees the graffiti on the transformer. PAVEL and ALEKSEI see it, too. People pour out of a bus from the town and the bus stop is crowded. People see the policemen and the workers and the ribbons and graffiti, and the flag. They carry them away with them: the memory of them. When the bus leaves no one looks back as they cross the road.

FOREMAN. Thing I don’t get, see, and I’m saying this like from the heart, what’s the need for all this hatred. I mean turning everything into hatred?

IGOR points at the transformer.

IGOR. What’s this about? What’s it all for?

SERGEI. Just making things worse, isn’t it.

The FOREMAN bites his lip and turns his head.

SERGEI. They’ll be sorry later. There’ll be tears.

The FOREMAN gets out his phone and waits for an answer. The phone is very old, with huge buttons.

FOREMAN. Hallo there? Boss? You coming down this way? Yeah I need some paint, thought maybe you could drop it off. Yep. OK. ALEKSEI presses a finger to one nostril, turns away and clears his nose. The FOREMAN stuffs his phone back in his grey trousers and leaves. He walks quickly. ALEKSEI scratches his neck. A man on a balcony on the second floor of the block smokes a cigarette. The wind catches at a piece of black film and it flies up above the pavement. The man chucks the end of the cigarette over the balcony and goes back into the room. The FOREMAN stops on the steps of a convenience store and gets his phone back out. He can’t see the screen because of the light, and he screws up his eyes as he runs his thumb over the buttons. Then he lifts his hand and his phone disappears into his palm, as if it had sunk out of sight. A stout elderly woman comes out of an entrance in the block. She is followed by some children in high vis jackets. A girl with her hair in a plait holds the door open. She waves at the FOREMAN and he nods back. The FOREMAN holds the phone to his ear with one hand, the other is in his trouser pocket. He waits. The children are noisy. When all the children have come out, the girl shuts the door. She and the elderly woman arrange the children in pairs and lead them along the side of the house. They pass the FOREMAN, the girl smiles at him and he nods. When all the children have passed, the FOREMAN follows them. He walks quickly. He catches up with them as they reach the white bus.

The wind sucks his trousers to his legs.

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IGOR. Are you going to get on with it?

PAVEL and ALEKSEI are silent. ALEKSEI’s leg twitches.

IGOR. Dunno what’s going on down Lermontov. Come on get on with it.

SERGEI. If you can’t undo the fuckers, use your teeth.

PAVEL and ALEKSEI are both slightly hunched. They go to the railings and start trying to undo the ribbons.

They can’t loosen the tight knots. The policemen stand to one side, hands on their belts. ALEKSEI gets out a lighter and attempts to use it to unpick one of the knots. The knot is damp, ALEKSEI digs at it with the lighter.

PAVEL. We need a stick. A twig or something.

The ribbons won’t come undone. PAVEL takes hold of the red ribbon with two hands and tugs it. He tries it a second time. He takes both ends and pulls harder. The knot won’t loosen. ALEKSEI presses a finger to one nostril, turns away and clears his nose. He pulls a cheap cigarette from his pocket and bends it. There is no filter in the cigarette and specks of tobacco sprinkle over his green work jacket. PAVEL lights his own cheap cigarette.

A queue of traffic has formed out on the road. A woman in a red coat and a white skirt walks to her car. The sweet scent of perfume. The woman turns off the car alarm, and the back lights stop flashing. She throws open the door and, gathering up her coat, climbs into the car. PAVEL and ALEKSEI turn away. They are no longer watching the woman. The policemen are both staring straight ahead silently. Clouds swell to cover the sky and the passing cars put on their sidelights so the road is a sudden necklace of lights. PAVEL brings the cigarette to his mouth and drags on it. ALEKSEI is also smoking. Exhaling, PAVEL knocks the smouldering tobacco off the cigarette then flicks the cigarette away with a snap of his fingers. He gets a piece of bread out from the canvas bag hanging on his shoulder, turns and walks towards the steps. As he walks the pigeons rise up from under his feet and, cooing, land a little way ahead. PAVEL walks in a cloud of pigeons, throwing them bread as he goes. Then he stops and brushes his hands; he has finished the bread. ALEKSEI sees a coin. It is lying on the ground and shining, but he can’t go to pick it up yet. At last he lifts it from the grey paving slabs and puts it in his pocket. The cigarette hangs between his teeth all this time. He follows PAVEL and catches up with him, throwing away the cigarette as he goes. Together they go down the steps and pass behind the policemen. The pigeons fly up around them as they walk. The policemen see the birds flying up, and the workmen walking off towards the trees. PAVEL and ALEKSEI step into the grassed area. They walk among the trees and kick up twigs with their feet.

SERGEI. What are the fuck are they doing now? Collecting litter, for fuckssake.

IGOR. When their boss gets back I’ll tell him what they’ve been up to.

SERGEI. They know exactly what they’re up to.

IGOR and SERGEI discuss PAVEL and ALEKSEI’s behaviour in low voices.

SERGEI. Where are the rest of the useless fuckers?

IGOR. This lot is a waste of space.

The chestnuts are falling from the branches. They land with a crack in a pile of leaves. IGOR pulls his mask up to the bridge of his nose.

PAVEL. Did you see that meme with the riot cops?

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ALEKSEI nods PAVEL. I fucking roared. Specially when the back up, you know, the traffic police arrived.

Fucking bus load.

PAVEL sings along to Tom Jones ‘Sex Bomb’ PAVEL. police man police man you’re my police man and baby you can turn me on ALEKSEI grins. He’s seen the big green police van, too. The van turns at the crossroads and overtakes the bus.

It drives in the inner lane through the constellation of vehicles. All the cars have their lights on. PAVEL and ALEKSEI stand under a tree near the neatly-gathered pile of leaves and watch the police van disappear.

PAVEL holds a wet black twig.

ALEKSEI. Mm. ALEKSEI drops his hand and makes a gesture as if he were dismissing the whole world and everything in it.

The workers are speaking quietly so the policemen can’t hear them. PAVEL makes a joke about the policemen in the van.

PAVEL. Escaping to Poland eh.

ALEKSEI. Out by fucking Christmas. That’s what they said.

PAVEL nods and throws aside the branch he was holding. ALEKSEI walks over to the high pruned-back bushes. The bushes are prickly and covered in tiny yellow leaves. ALEKSEI bends down and tugs on a piece of metal sticking out of the earth among the roots. ALEKSEI rips the metal out of the ground. It’s a rusty wire with a kink in it.

PAVEL. You gonna use that to undo them?

ALEKSEI. Ah fuck it.

ALEKSEI walks past PAVEL carrying the wire. PAVEL adjusts the bag on his shoulder and follows him.

He quickly catches up with him and they walk together. A strong gust of wind lifts the dry leaves from the ground and blows ALEKSEI’s hair. ALEKSEI pats his hair back down with his free hand as he walks.

There are dry leaves everywhere, circling and flying, landing on the ground. One lands on PAVEL’s head and he brushes it off. The wind quietens. The grassed area is big, but the men are walking fast and soon they can make out the faces of IGOR and SERGEI, standing motionless under a tree, their fingers curled around their belts, watching them with narrowed eyes. PAVEL and ALEKSEI walk past them. The fallen leaves rustle under their feet. They disappear behind the backs of the policemen and the trees, and walk towards the steps. On the steps they see a single-use blue facemask. It’s lying on the ground among the leaves and other rubbish.

ALEKSEI. Coronavirus. You ought to take that. New mask.

PAVEL grins and stops on the step. He waits expectantly. ALEKSEI holds the metal rail and gives a deep sniff. PAVEL begins climbing the steps. ALEKSEI spits and climbs two steps at once. PAVEL continues climbing, grinning all the while. ALEKSEI reaches the yard and bends over, pressing his nose with his fingers and blows out. He wipes his damp fingers on his jacket. He is still holding the metal wire in the other hand. They go over to the railing with the ribbons fluttering on them. PAVEL and ALEKSEI stop by the ribbons.

ALEKSEI turns and begins poking the end of the wire into the knot of ribbon to loosen the fabric. But even the wire has no purchase on the tight knot. PAVEL stands and looks at ALEKSEI. The huge housing block behind them looks like a tall fortress. It looms over the yard, its grey wall disappearing into the overcast sky above.

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On every floor, in almost every window, along the whole length of the building, white-red-white paper and fabric flags are waving. ALEKSEI turns away and places the wire on the pavement. He gazes around, taking sly glances at the policemen as he does so. PAVEL stands with his hands jammed deep in his pockets. Then he too begins glancing over at the policemen. IGOR and SERGEI don’t notice they’re being watched. IGOR arches his back and straightens his shoulders. SERGEI scratches his face through his mask, then pulls the mask up higher on his nose. IGOR arches his back again and wiggles his shoulders back and forth, then back and forth again.

PAVEL. My sister calls them smugglies ALEKSEI (indicates the ribbons). What them?

PAVEL. Uh-huh.

ALEKSEI. Fuck. Smugglies.

ALEKSEI shoves his hand in his pocket and does a few dance steps. He takes out a cigarette and straightens it, still dancing around. He gets out a lighter and lights the cigarette. He stops jiggling about. PAVEL looks at him and grins. Then he too gets out a cigarette and lights it. The natural world is still wild and profligate around them: the trees along the roads are covered with green, yellow and brown leaves. But above them a wan nicotine sky, as if all the colour had been washed from it. A gloomy day.

The FOREMAN comes along the opposite pavement carrying a spray can of paint. He hurries towards them, and soon his two employees are within sight, standing by the railings. As he comes closer a heavy lorry passes him and drenches him in water, leaving damp and dirty stains on his light-grey trousers. He stops and runs a hand over one leg and then the other, then straightens up and goes to the traffic light. A tractor passes with a thunderous growl. A trailer crashes along behind it, filled with sacks of leaves and sawn-off branches. The tractor is overtaken by an ambulance, and then a white minibus overtakes the ambulance. The light turns green and the FOREMAN steps into the road.

PAVEL and ALEKSEI watch the FOREMAN crossing the road a little further down, behind the trees.

Their faces immediately fall and they hunch the shoulders a little more. The FOREMAN passes the yellow bus and then steps onto the pavement near the glass bus shelter with the toothpaste advert, and then he crosses the grass, walking without looking back. ALEKSEI grins, throws down his cigarette end and heels it into the ground.

ALEKSEI. So he says: ‘where’s your mask?’ and he’s straight back at him: ‘all I’d transmit is vodka’ PAVEL. When?

ALEKSEI. This morning.

PAVEL takes a long drag and then, breathing out, he throws down the cigarette end into a drain. He catches the FOREMAN’s eye. The FOREMAN is glumly approaching the policemen below, shaking the paint spray can continuously as he walks. The policemen are forced to step aside and the FOREMAN stops where they were standing. He turns to face the writing. He stops shaking the spray can, takes the lid off and begins spraying the paint, moving his hand quickly. The writing disappears from the wall. In its place there is a damp grey stain.

PAVEL and ALEKSEI look down. PAVEL’s cigarette end is lying across the grid of the drain cover and blue smoke is rising from it. PAVEL pushes it with his foot and it falls through the gap.

FOREMAN. Well lads, we’ll deal with this. You can go.

SERGEI. We’re guarding you.

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The FOREMAN frowns. He sighs deeply and makes a cutting movement through the air in front of him with his open palm. But then his shoulders droop and he doesn’t actually say anything. He closes the empty spray can and goes towards the block. He looks down at the ground as he walks. Stopping by a bin he drops the spray can in it, then he picks up the facemask on the ground and drops that in, too. The sound of a dog’s high-pitched bark is added to the general noise level. It is coming from not far away. The policemen turn, the FOREMAN turns – a short woman stands in piles of leaves under a tree, holding a lead. A little dog is tugging on the end of it. The woman is looking away demonstratively. The woman is wearing a red jacket, white gloves and a white hat. The long thin dog lead is also red. At last the woman unclips the lead and the dog rushes off to chase leaves, barking happily. The dog runs in circles through the leaves, leaping and barking. The FOREMAN puts his hand on the metal rail and begins climbing the steps. He lifts his hand from the rail to push his hair back off his forehead and climbs on up the steps. He climbs with his head lowered. Through all the noise of the dog barking and the traffic on the road, the policemen stand, gazing steadily ahead. PAVEL has been leaning on the rails and now he halfstands. ALEKSEI darts a few looks in the direction of the FOREMAN and does his jiggly dance again, then scratches his face. The FOREMAN stands alone in the windswept yard of the building. The grey wall of the building rises behind him and the sky above him is one massive cloud. He smiles, making a sign to someone by placing his fist to the side of his head. Then he pushes back the hair from his forehead and moves on. The handles of two pairs of scissors are poking out of his jacket pocket. When the FOREMAN reaches ALEKSEI his expression changes. He gets the scissors out and begins to unwrap the paper sheaths from the sharp points. He puts the creased paper back in his pocket and gives the scissors to his two employees. ALEKSEI and PAVEL stand by the rails. They hold the scissors against the ribbon and begin cutting. The FOREMAN gathers up the bits of ribbon. When about half of the ribbons have been cut off, IGOR straightens the angle of the truncheon hanging at his waist and sets off in the direction of the bus stop. SERGEI follows him. As he goes he pulls his black mask up higher on his nose. They walk further and further away from the railings, getting closer to the road. They don’t look back.

FOREMAN. I’ve never in my whole life seen such divisions in society.

Red and white ribbons hang out of the FOREMAN’s pocket. He has his hands in his trouser pockets and he is looking down and away. His face is indignant. On the other side of the street people are replacing an advert on a billboard. Some young people are ripping down a picture of a doctor doing an HIV test and in its place they are sticking up a picture of a tank driver in a helmet, and a policeman’s girlfriend. A group is standing around the lifting platform with necks craned, watching the worker who is working alone in the basket above them. The wind is catching the corner of the poster and he can’t attach it neatly to the board. The doctor’s form lies in tatters on the pavement. The wind takes the scraps of paper, lifting them from the ground.

Forty-five minutes pass.

PAVEL. They won’t ever give in. It’ll be like Venezuela. My brother-in-law says he’d have voted for a cat, for anything, only not him.

The FOREMAN lifts his mobile to his ear. PAVEL drops his gaze. PAVEL is leaning with his palms resting on the railings. A sea of grey paving slabs stretches away under his feet. The FOREMAN lifts his head and gazes at a point somewhere beyond PAVEL. His pockets are stuffed with bits of chopped ribbon. The ribbons hang down, red and white, from his pockets. PAVEL stands up, turns around, running a palm over the seat of his trousers at the same time. He stares at the road and places a finger under the strap of the canvas bag hanging from his shoulder. Cars and buses drive along the road, nothing unexpected or surprising there. PAVEL turns to the FOREMAN and sees only his back. The FOREMAN has turned away towards the fortress of the block. He is waiting for an answer to his call. The FOREMAN lifts his head in expectation and gazes up.

PAVEL looks at the FOREMAN’s back in its light-coloured jacket. Then he turns away and looks to the side. He sees a tree, a fir tree, and ribbons are tied into its topmost branches. They hang on the highest fronds like blossoms among the pine needles, like lilac, like an astonishing white-red-white wreath. There are lots of them and they are all hanging from high branches. When PAVEL sees them he grins to himself. He looks back at the

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FOREMAN who is shoving his phone into his trouser pocket. He is frowning with his usual expression of irritation and indignation.

PAVEL. Eh! PAVEL lifts his brows and then his eyes up at the ribbons, indicating them to the FOREMAN. The FOREMAN follows his gaze, lifts his head and sees the ribbons amongst the branches and needles. The FOREMAN looks back down and goes over to PAVEL, his face expressionless. He stands next to PAVEL and holds onto the railings they have just cut all the ribbons from. His face is turned to the road.

FOREMAN. Think we’ll keep quiet about those. Right, Pavel?

PAVEL. Right, boss.

From the road the sound of cars tooting their sharp insistent demands. All the drivers are hoping that the tractor will turn off the road soon. The tractor turns, but the trailer can’t quite make the tight corner and bounces against the kerb. The wheels jump up onto the pavement and the trailer bounds after the tractor. The FOREMAN and PAVEL see ALEKSEI. He’s sitting in the open trailer and looking at the trees, he’s being bounced all over the place. They can see other men sitting with him. They’re all wearing the yellow jackets of the municipal cleaning service and only ALEKSEI is wearing a green jacket. The tractor stops among the trees and the engine cuts out. The men start getting up. They’re all on their feet now. The tractor driver gets down, he’s a curly-haired man, cleanshaven, in a worn blue boiler suit. Down on the ground he pulls on protective gloves. The men begin jumping down from the trailer. PAVEL raises a hand in greeting to ALEKSEI. The men roll a steel drum out of the trailer. Some are already standing ready with shovels and brushes. Yellow spots among the black tree trunks. ALEKSEI pulls a long stick with both hands. The men catch the drum and lay it on the earth.

PAVEL and the FOREMAN watch two men lift the drum and carry it away. The stick ALEKSEI was tugging on turns out to be a long shaft with a fluffy round brush at the top. ALEKSEI throws it over his shoulder and follows the men carrying the drum.

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