"Don't worry about the doctors. I bet they'll understand. You're a young man in the middle of a world war, of course you're going to get angry." Nikolai said between bites of his sandwich. He usually didn't talk and eat but he was so terribly hungry. He'd overslept breakfast; he'd had one too many glasses of vodka last night. "And they need you. At least Wojciechowski does."
"I hope you're right."
"I'm always right." Nikolai answered with a grin. His smile caused a bit of bread to fall out of his mouth. He pierced it with his fork and returned it to the dark cavern of his mouth. "And, you never told me how it was with Marie..." He winked at his young friend who, in turn, slapped him.
"Nothing happened!" Werner said, but he flushed red. "Well, I did realize I'm in love with her and I think she loves me too...I also kissed her."
"YOU DID!" Nikolai cried out in joy. "That's wonderfull! I'm so happy for you, Killy." He patted him on the back. "Now you know what I'm going through, it's so hard not to see Darya..."
"I understand you now." He agreed with a laugh. "But I think I'll see her again, I'm sure of it...and up till then I'll have to satisfy myself with phone calls."
"Letters." Nikolai interrupted. "My wife writes me them, the one she sent for Christmas was wild. The stuff that woman writes..." Werner realized that Nikolai meant sex and wrinkled his nose. He did not want to imagine his older friend and his wife having intercourse. "Anyways, maybe you'll get lucky too."
"I guess."
"You're not eating much," Nikolai noticed, "eat up!" He was very strict with eating, with his children as well, they needed to eat enough. In his childhood he'd had far from enough for several years, and he had grown to despise the feeling of being hungry.
"I'm not hungry."
"I can hear your stomach growling from here, Killy, eat the potatoes!"
So Werner did, forcibly, and as he ate he realized that he was hungry. He finished his plate faster than Nikolai. "I told you you were hungry." Nikolai teased. Werner shrugged in defeat.
"You were right."
"Thank you." Nikolai said in mock vanity. Werner picked up his fork, forked a potatoe off Nikolai's plate and devoured it. "Are you still so hungry?" Nikolai asked with a laugh. "Get this man some more food!"
After the second plate Werner's hunger was stilled and with it, his worries. Nikolai was right, they needed him, and they were doctors, they'd understand his rage, especially given that he himself suffered from cancer. What he hadn't told Nikolai was that he'd offered to be a Versuchskaninchen and he wasn't planning on telling the soviet that. Nikolai would say he was out of his mind!
"Are you any bit closer to finding a cure?" Nikolai asked. He was genuinly interrested but he was quite sure that the answer would be no. Research takes a while. Werner just shook his head. "And why is there only desert after dinner? I think lunch should include a treat as well..." Nikolai mused. Werner snorted. He found it incredibly funny that Nikolai was so obsessed with these little things. Nikolai's face broke out into his big handsome smile. "It would be good!"
"I agree."
"Do you like poetry, Werner?"
"How did you just get from desert to poetry?" Werner asked in disbelief. He could not understand how Nikolai's brain worked; the middle-aged soviet's mind just worked differently.
"Well...actually they are similar. Poetry and deserts are to be consumed in small ammounts, that's when you enjoy them the most."
"That's true...but no, I'm not a big fan of poetry. I like books."
"Have you read good poetry?"
"I've tried. But I never really got it, maybe I will when I'm older." He shrugged. To Werner there were more important things in life, to Nikolai there weren't many.
"Have you ever heard of Sergei Kaljuschin?"
"No."
"He was a russian poet, half-ukrainian actually and I think he had some Estonian blood as well...anyway my father adored his work. It was one of the only things him and I had in commen. I memorized almost every one of his poems by heart, because my dad had."
"That's sweet."
"Yes, I think so."
"Want to tell me one of the poems?" Werner asked. He knew Nikolai well enough to be able to tell that he wanted to receite the poem. Maybe he'd been missing his father and his life in the soviet-union, or maybe he was feeling down because he missed Darya.
"Do you want a poem about cigarettes or a poem about love?"
"I think both are great."
"I'll do cigarettes, because you haven't really tasted love yet." Nikolai said thoughtfully. "I just need to think for a second, I can't remember how it starts..."