The downpour begins in earnest. Water on the camera lens. Fade to white.
This is Vasilisa’s best friend, and her personal fitness trainer, and her name is, let’s say, Masha. Masha is petite, smaller than Vasilisa, but very strong, lesbian, and also, inevitably, blond. Masha wants to be a movie actress. When Nero Golden hears this he says, “Darling, with that ambition, you’re the right size, but you’re on the wrong coast.”
The old man has extended his stay on the island and the family and entourage are staying too but there has been a rearrangement of accommodations. Vasilisa is moving into the Nero apartment with her friend and personal fitness trainer and all other persons are to be relocated in the other spaces. Nobody is very pleased except for Nero, Vasilisa and Masha. Then on the night the ladies move in Nero takes them out for a meal. There are good places to eat on the island but Nero wants the best, and the best involves getting into his Bentley sports car with Vasilisa by his side and Masha curled up in the back and taking a ride over on the ferry to the famous Italian place from which he had ordered the uneaten food on the night of the first tryst. At the famous Italian place the ladies in their excitement drink too many vodka shots; Nero, the designated driver, restrains himself. By the time the three of them are back on the island the ladies are laughing loudly and behaving flirtatiously, which is just fine with Nero. Back in the apartment he does a couple of vodka shots himself. But then, a strange turn of events. The personal trainer leans in to Vasilisa the Fair and kisses her on the mouth. And Vasilisa responds. And then a silence in the room as the two ladies embrace and Nero Golden sits in his armchair, watching, not remotely aroused, shocked, feeling like a fool, even more so when the two ladies get up without acknowledging him, turn out the lights in the living room as if he wasn’t there, and go into his bedroom—his bedroom!—and shut the door behind them.
In their absence it is the carelessness about the extinguishing of the lights that first enrages him. In his house! While he is present! As if he were nothing and no one! His anger reveals to him his dreadful error. He sees himself as a deluded old man and now his pride rears up and demands that he come back into his true self, the man of power, the financial titan, the quondam construction and steel magnate, head of his family, the colossus standing in the great courtyard of the golden house, the once and future king. He stands up and leaves the two women in the bedroom to do as they please and walks steadily toward the apartment’s front door.
There is a small closet by the door in which, on a shelf above the hanging coats, there stands a small leather valise. The old man has always believed in the mutability of things; has known that no matter how solid the ground beneath your feet may seem, it can, at any moment, turn into quicksand and suck you down. Always be prepared. He was prepared for the great move from Bombay to New York, and he is prepared for this smaller departure now. He takes down the overnight bag, makes sure the keys to the other apartments are in his trouser pocket where they should be, and quietly leaves. He does not slam the door. He knows that in the apartment next door, where Petya sleeps along with the little cloud of helpers, there is a small maid’s room that is unoccupied. Nero does not need luxury right now. He needs a door to close and a bed behind it and that is enough. In the morning he will deal with what must be dealt with and he will have all his strength then. His head will once more be in control of his heart. He enters the maid’s room, removes his jacket and tie and shoes, doesn’t bother with the rest of it, and is quickly asleep.
He has underestimated her. He has made an incorrect assessment both of his own vulnerability and of her determination. Beneath all his strength there is loneliness and she can smell that as a hunting dog smells its wounded quarry. Loneliness is weakness, and this is Baba Yaga in the skin of Vasilisa the Fair. If she wishes, she can eat him up. She can eat him up right now.