Emily is a rather oldfashioned young woman who desperately wants to get married. Nowadays most girls arent keen on marriage: why drag a whole pig into the house when a single sausage will do? And sausages are everywhere these days all sorts, all sizes. Cohabiting is even acceptable now, no longer a scandal like it once was. Back then there were still notions of honour, pride and propriety that feel pointless today. Even the lazy Obolonsky isnt seen as a villain any more after all, he receives regular payouts from his estate, a proper rentier! If you handed a smartphone to Ian Ilyich, hed instantly become a successful blogger whos landed a good gig. As for family life, people do as they please: meet in hotels, rent rooms by the hour the world has invented all sorts of guest marriages so you dont have to march straight to the registry office. Nobody knows what might surface after a wedding; before it was a missing sock or a bad borscht that was a tragedy. Nowadays there are scarier things: childishness, mummysyndrome and chronic nothingdoing among suitors. And the nothingdoing isnt just for men; ladies love to worship their own beauty, too. Of course both sexes have endless demands beyond bread and entertainment you can eat your own bread. And theres always shopping.
Emily is a pleasant exception: pretty, with no trendy bodymodifications, educated at a prestigious university, holding a solid job that pays a decent salary in pounds. Yet, oddly, men ignore her, passing her by in tidy rows as they pair off with others theyre all stumbling onto the same old traps. That doesnt mean she never meets men; shes quite pretty. Its just that none of them end up at the registry office, and shell be turning thirty this year. In the old socialist talk theyd have called her a latefirstborn; today the equivalent would be a young mother under sixty. She doesnt want to have a baby on her own.
Emily also believes in horoscopes or rather, in astrological forecasts, which is a more precise term. Horoscopes were invented by clever merchants to swindle cash, after all. In these uncertain times the predictions are all upbeat: On Tuesday morning youll meet a billionaire! So she keeps a toothbrush handy, just in case he has serious intentions.
She looks for a partner whose zodiac sign matches hers; Emily is a Sagittarius, a fire sign. Aries and Leo share that element, and Sagittarius is the calmest of the lot. Her first great love blooms in her first year at university an age now dismissed as infantlike, barely eighteen. They did learn about sex back then, but not like today, when sexual education is more straightforward. Then the creative block hits.
She has to pay for utilities, travel and food, and discovers she must buy groceries herself instead of raiding a shared fridge as was once assumed. Her parents used to support her financially, but she now lives alone and two people cant stretch the budget. Her boyfriend, Dave, is surprised.
Shouldnt you be buying the food? he asks, genuinely puzzled.
Why me? Emily retorts.
But the fridge is yours, and Im not the owner! Dave explains, his logic oddly sound.
If thats the only issue, Emily says cleverly, Ill hand you the keys to the household feel free to run the place yourself!
Predictably, Dave disappears and stops greeting her, even though they share a lecture group. As a fire sign, she chalks it up to coincidence.
The registry office never materialises, but Emily still makes plans. Shes sad because she loves Dave; after all, he was her first boyfriend. Youth and time move on, and a second steady lover appears when shes in her third year. He isnt from the same university hes a bit of a swimmers crowd.
Simon, over thirty, declares hell marry her, calling her darling. Hes divorced, but love knows no barriers. Yet Simon has no steady job; this is before the latest economic slump and special operations that now trouble the country. Still, he faces perpetual difficulties: bosses are impossible, demands absurd, hours unbearable. When hes stuck at home, he tells Emily hes searching for a partner. She feels sorry for him.
Maybe you could work as a courier? she suggests timidly.
Im an analyst! he boasts.
Cant an analyst be a courier? Emily replies reasonably. Drive and analyse as you wish I bought food with my last penny yesterday.
Ask your mum! Say its a temporary problem, he protests.
Ive been telling her that for two months, she sighs.
Time is a long thing, he quotes Mayakovsky, looking proud. What do you think of my erudition, love? You should be grateful Ive taken you on!
Emily retorts, Then dont ask for food! She adds, Since the old days are over, get a move on! Shes both witty and sharp.
Who are you telling to get rid of my legs? Simon snaps. Did you propose that yourself? Hes never broken up with a lady before; this is his first time hearing such a thing.
No, I suggested it to Mayakovsky! Emily laughs. You can both go away let him feed you now.
That insult is something a respectable man cant bear. Simon, a Capricorn, is supposed to be diligent and reliable a reminder to trust horoscopes. The third suitor, Liam, also believes in zodiac signs; they meet on an astrology forum and their chats blossom into genuine affection. Yet he keeps calling them zodiacs instead of signs.
Why? Emily asks. Why deliberately twist the word?
Come off it! he jokes. Its funny!
Her grandmothers wise words echo: You cant have everything, love, without a bit of chaos. Simons slang is endless Snoodur, sterdaess, Dubina Regovitch spilling from his mouth like a ceramic fountain. He thinks hes witty at fortyone, but the twentysixyearold Emily finds it irritating. Apart from that, theyre fine: both have good jobs, are single, and Simon has an adult son.
Initially Simon is shy, then he settles into his role. A scandal erupts when, in the presence of Emilys grandfather a retired MI5 officer the fiancé calls a police officer Zerdzinski and bursts out laughing. Jesus, Mary! the grandfather shouts, his Polish roots showing. Off with you, you rogue!
The family gathering turns awkward; the registry office plan collapses. Liam, a Taurus, shares Earth as his element, as does Simons Capricorn, and Taurus is known for being touchy. Then Emily meets Peter, a man without any annoying quirks. Divorced, childless, goodlooking, comfortably off, educated, with a sharp sense of humour, and living in a tidy onebed flat. Hes economical, a bit stingy, born under Virgo another Earth sign, famed for thrift.
They register their relationship, Peter moves in and rents out his old flat. He asks Emily to register him at her address.
Why? she asks. Youre already registered at your place! I get why youd need it if you had no registration at all you cant get anything without it nowadays. So why now?
What do you mean why? Peter replies, surprised. We love each other, were a family, everything should be shared!
Emily recalls a joke: Rewrite my flat in my name, please! Oh, sorry not that one. Do you believe in God? The love conversation begins: We love each other
Alright! Peter agrees after a pause. You said it nicely about love, family and togetherness, so Ill register you and youll register me.
Where? he asks, baffled.
In my flat now everythings ours!
But you dont live there! he protests after a moment.
If thats the only issue, lets alternate months: one month here, one month there, Emily suggests, still hopeful but already a touch disappointed, feeling the emptyempty of the arrangement.
Peter falls silent; nothing clever comes to mind. He hadnt anticipated her cutoff. He cant argue.
What now? Emily presses, eyeing his previously confident face. Seems sensible, doesnt it?
Nothing more to add; registering a stranger in your flat feels absurd. If he could register with his future wife, perhaps something would work out
Peters old flat had a first wife who vanished, and hes become painfully stingy and mercenary. Both sit in silence, unsure how to proceed. The old way pretending nothing happened wont work.
Emily leaves the kitchen for the sittingroom while they eat, giving Peter space to think. After fifteen minutes, he returns and, as if nothing changed, asks, Emily, want to go to the cinema?
Sure! she says, relieved. He sighs, Ive already put a deposit on a restaurant
She adds, So will you register me, Peter? I didnt quite catch that. We havent finished the discussion.
Peter looks away, fidgets, and leaves. Emily doesnt stop him; at least they didnt waste money on a wedding, and the conversation ends before any official registration.
Do all women end up like this? Some do. Two of Emilys three friends have married one for six months, another for a year. The third, as a joke, slipped away quietly. Emily herself has had civil partners she lived with for over a month, and there was love there too.
But love isnt just feelings; its actions. Most of her suitors never truly loved her. As the saying goes in a notsofriendly country, there are no fools. Even though most of her admirers werent Aries, they all seemed alike.
It hurts, yes, but it isnt fatal, Emily. She, now past thirty, stops yearning for marriage. How? She gets a promotion, upgrades her grandmothers tiny flat to a twobedroom, buys a new foreignmake car, and takes a short break away. She concludes life is working out. Plus, today women can have children up to sixty, so she could still have a baby for herself. Sausages are still everywhere plenty to go around.
