Текст книги "The Bronze Horseman"
Автор книги: Paullina Simons
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 30 (всего у книги 47 страниц)
Alexander wanted to tell Dusia that having found Tatiana alive, he had nothing to worry about, but before he could say anything, Axinya asked Alexander how he was feeling, which was followed by a second round of hugs and a second round of tears.
“I’m feeling fine,” said Alexander. “Really, there is no need to cry.”
He might as well have been speaking English. They continued to cry.
Alexander looked at Tatiana perplexed. But not only did she stand off to the side, but Vova stood by her.
“You are just the—oh, I can’t, I can’t, I just can’t,” cried Naira.
“Then don’t, Naira Mikhailovna,” Tatiana said mildly. “He is all right. Look. He’ll be fine.”
“Tania is right,” Alexander said. “Really.”
“Oh, dear man,” said Naira, grabbing his sleeve. “You’ve traveled so far. You must be exhausted.”
He wasn’t until five minutes ago. He looked at Tatiana and said, “I am a little hungry.” And smiled.
She did not smile back when she said, “Of course. Let’s go eat.”
Nothing was making any sense to a tired and hungry Alexander, who found himself suddenly losing his patience. “Excuse me, please,” he said, extricating himself from Axinya, who was standing in front of him, and making his way through the sea of people to Tatiana. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Tatiana backed away from him, averting her face. “Come on. I’ll make you dinner.”
“Can we”—Alexander found himself having trouble getting the words out—”just for a moment, talk, Tania?”
“Alexander, of course,” said Naira. “We’ll talk. Come, dear, come to our house.” She took him by the arm. “This must be the worst day of your life.”
Alexander didn’t know what to think about this day.
“Let us take care of you,” Naira continued. “Our Tania is a very good cook.”
Their Tania? “I know,” Alexander said.
“You’ll eat, you’ll drink. We’ll talk. We’ll talk plenty. We’ll tell you everything. How long are you here for?”
“I don’t know,” Alexander said, not even trying to catch Tatiana’s eye anymore.
They started walking, amid all the commotion forgetting their sewing. “Oh, yes,” said Tatiana blankly and went back to the table. Alexander followed her. Zoe ran alongside him, and he said, “Zoe, I need a moment alone with Tania,” and without even waiting for a response, hurried to catch up with Tatiana.
“What’s the matter with you?” he said to her.
“Nothing.”
“Tania!”
“What?”
“Talk to me.”
“How was your trip here?”
“That’s not what I mean. It was fine. Why didn’t you write to me?”
“Alexander,” she said, “why didn’t you write to me?”
Taken aback, he said, “I didn’t know you were alive.”
“I didn’t know you were alive either,” she replied, almost calmly, if only he didn’t see through the veil. Under it there was a storm she was not letting him near.
“You were supposed to write to me and tell me you made it here safely,” Alexander said. “Remember?”
“No,” Tatiana said pointedly. “Dasha was supposed to write to you and tell you. Remember? But she died. So she couldn’t.” She gathered up the material—the needles, the thread, the beads and buttons and paper patterns—stuffing it all into a bag.
“I’m so sorry about Dasha, I’m so sorry. Please.” Alexander touched her back.
Tatiana flinched from him and blinked back tears. “Me, too.”
“What happened to her? Did you make it out of Kobona?”
“I did,” Tatiana said quietly. “She didn’t. She died the morning we got there.”
“Oh, God.”
They didn’t look at each other, and they were silent.
Dragging Dasha down the slope to Ladoga, begging her to hold on, to walk, while Tania herself could not keep upright, yet pushing her sister forward, willing her to live.
“I’m sorry, Tatia,” Alexander whispered.
“Seeing you,” Tatiana said, “brings it all back, doesn’t it? The wounds are still so raw.” That’s when she raised her eyes and looked at him. And Alexander saw the wounds.
Slowly they walked back to everyone else.
Vova slapped Alexander on the shoulder and asked, “So how’s the war going?”
“The war is good, thanks.”
“We hear our guys are not doing so great. The Germans are near Stalingrad.”
“Yes,” Alexander said. “The Germans are very strong.”
Vova slapped Alexander’s shoulder again. “I see they have to keep you fit in war. I’m joining. I’m seventeen next month.”
“I’m sure the Red Army will make a man out of you,” Alexander said, trying to sound more cheerful. He watched Tatiana carry the large bag of sewing. “Want me to carry that?” Alexander asked her.
“No, it’s all right. You’ve got enough of your own things.”
“I brought you something.”
“Me?” Tatiana didn’t look at him when she said it.
What was going on? He said quizzically, “Tania… ?”
“Alexander,” Naira said, “tomorrow is our day to go to the banya. Can you wait until then?”
“No. I’ll wash tonight in the river.”
“Surely you can wait one day?” said Naira.
He shook his head. “I’ve been on trains for four days. I haven’t had water on me for too long.”
“Four days!” exclaimed Raisa, shaking. “The man has been on trains for four days!”
“Yes,” cried Naira, wiping her face, “and for what, for what? Oh, what a wasteland this war is, what waste, what tragedy.” The other ladies sniffled in agreement.
Alexander heard a small muffled groan escape Tatiana. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted to look into her face. He wanted her to tell him what was wrong. He wanted to touch her bare arms. He wanted to touch her so badly that… but his hands were full of his things. “Tatia…” he whispered, leaning deeply into her, nearly touching her hair with his mouth.
He heard her breath stop for a moment, and then she moved away.
In slight frustration he straightened up, noticing that Vova did not stray far from Tatiana’s side, and she did not appear to move away from him.
They ambled down the road. From the small village houses, neighbors poured out in milky lines, some shaking their heads, some pointing, some dabbing their eyes. Many saluted him. One middle-aged lady came over and gave Alexander a sympathetic hug. One old man said, “You make us all proud.” Why did Alexander think it wasn’t for his effort in the war? “The way you came here for your Dasha.” The man pumped his hand. “Anything you need, anything at all, you come to me. I’m Igor.”
Alexander asked quietly, “Tania, why do I feel as if everybody knows me here?”
“Oh, because they all do,” Tatiana said flatly, staring straight ahead. “You are the captain in the Red Army, who has come to marry my sister. They all know that. Unfortunately, she has died. And they all know that, too. And everyone is very sorry.” Her voice remained almost steady.
Sobs from Dusia from behind and Naira from the front. “Alexander,” Naira said, “at home we’ll give you plenty of vodka, and we’ll tell you everything.”
“We?” He glanced at Tatiana. He was hoping the we wasn’t going to be more than two. Why did he suspect it might be?
“Tania, how have you been?” Alexander asked. “How did—”
“Oh, she’s been great,” Vova interrupted, putting his arm around Tatiana. “She’s much better now.”
Alexander stared straight ahead, his gaze clouding. The tick inside him was multiplying.
It was at that moment—when he set his teeth and turned his face away—that Tatiana moved away from Vova to Alexander and put her hand on him. “You must be exhausted, hmm?” she said gently, peering into his face. “Four days on trains. Have you eaten today?”
“In the morning,” he replied, not looking at her.
Tatiana nodded. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean and fed,” she said, smiling. “And shaved.” She squeezed his arm.
He felt better and smiled back. He was going to have to talk to her about Vova. Alexander saw unresolved things in Tatiana’s eyes. The last time they had peace or energy to resolve anything was St. Isaac’s. A moment with her alone and things would get better, but first he had to talk to her about Vova.
“Alexander,” Axinya echoed, “we pulled our Tanechka right out from the jaws of death.” There was a loud wail.
Alexander looked at Tatiana walking next to him, feeling a liquid warmth ooze through him. “Please, let me carry that,” he said.
She was about to give him her sewing bag when Vova intercepted it, saying, “I’ll carry it.”
“Tania,” Alexander asked, “you didn’t by any chance run into Dimitri in Kobona, did you?”
Naira quickly turned around and hissed at Alexander, her eyes bright imploring cups. “Shh. We don’t talk about Dimitri.”
“That bastard!” exclaimed Axinya.
“Axinya, please!” said Naira, turning to Alexander and nodding. “She is right, though. He is a bastard,” she whispered.
Alexander stared at them all, wide-eyed. “Tania,” he said, “am I to assume that you did run into Dimitri in Kobona?”
“Hmm,” she said, and nothing else.
Alexander shook his head. He was a bastard.
Zoe on his left leaned in and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Another reason we don’t talk about Dimitri is because our Vovka’s got a big thing for Tania.”
Moving away from Zoe and toward Tatiana, Alexander muttered, “Really?”
Naira’s house at the top end of the village toward the river was white, wooden, and square. And small. “You all live here?” Alexander asked, glancing at Tatiana, who walked ahead.
“No, no,” Naira said, “just us and our Tania. Vova and Zoe live with their mother on the other side of Lazarevo. Their father was killed in the Ukraine last summer.”
“Babushka,” said Zoe, “I don’t think there’s going to be room in your house for Alexander.”
Alexander looked at the house. Zoe may have been right. In the front garden there were two goats, and three chickens in a wire coop. It looked as if they had plenty of room.
Following Tatiana inside, Alexander walked up a couple of wooden steps into a roomy glassed-in porch that had two small couches at one end and a long, rectangular wooden table at the other. Coming through the porch, he stood in the doorway looking into the darkened parlor room in the middle of which stood a wood-burning stove.
Taking up nearly the entire back of the room, the stove had a long cast-iron hearth and three compartments—the center for burning wood and two side ones for baking. The chimney went up and to the left. Above the stove was a flat surface covered with quilts and pillows. In many village huts across the Soviet Union, the top of the stove was frequently used as a bed. After the fire below went out, it was very warm up there.
In front of the hearth stood a high table for food preparation, and at the back was a sewing machine on a desk, and a black trunk. On the right were two doors, leading to what Alexander guessed were bedrooms.
Tatiana was by his side. “Let me guess,” he said to her. “You sleep up there?”
“Yes,” she replied without meeting his eyes. “It’s comfortable. Come inside for a minute.” She walked through to the desk on the side of the stove.
“Wait, wait,” said Naira from behind. “Zoechka is right. We really don’t have much room.”
“That’s all right, I have my tent,” said Alexander, following Tatiana.
“No, no tent,” said Naira. “Why don’t you stay with Vova and Zoe? They have room for you; they have a nice bedroom they could put you in. With a proper bed and everything.”
“No,” said Alexander, turning around to Naira. “But thank you.”
“Tanechka, don’t you think it would be more comfortable for him? He could—”
“Naira Mikhailovna,” said Tatiana, “he already said no.”
“We know,” said Axinya, walking through the porch. “But it really would be more—”
“No,” repeated Alexander. “I will sleep in my tent, right outside. I’ll be fine.”
Tatiana motioned him to her. He couldn’t get to her fast enough. They were alone long enough for her to say, “Sleep here, on top of the stove. It’s very warm.”
He kept his voice even when he said, “And where are you going to sleep?”
Her face turned red, and he couldn’t help himself—he burst out laughing and kissed her cheek. That made her even more red.
“Tania,” he said, “you’re the funniest girl.”
She backed away practically into the porch.
Smiling at her, he said, “Listen, I’m going to go—”
“Go with Zoe and Vova?” said Naira, coming into the room. “That’s a great idea. I knew our Tanechka could convince you. She can talk the devil into a new dress. Zoe!”
“No!” exclaimed Tatiana.
Alexander wanted to kiss her.
“Naira Mikhailovna, he’s not going,” Tatiana said. “He didn’t come all this way to stay with Vova and Zoe. He’ll stay here. He’ll sleep up here.”
“Oh,” Naira said, her breath taken out of her a bit. “And you?”
Could she keep herself from blushing? No, she couldn’t. “I’ll sleep on the porch.”
“Tania, if he’s staying, why don’t you change the linen on your bed so he’ll have fresh sheets.”
“I will,” agreed Tatiana.
“Don’t you dare touch them,” whispered Alexander.
Saying she was going to get Alexander fresh towels, Naira disappeared to her room.
Instantly they turned to each other. She couldn’t manage to look up at him, but she was turned to him and close to him, and—was she smelling him?
“I’m going to go and wash, and I will be right back,” said Alexander, smiling. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to take hold of hers. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m right here. Do you need soap?”
He shook his head. “Got plenty.”
“I’m sure you do. But look what else I’ve got.” Out of her desk drawer she pulled out a small bottle of shampoo. “Found it in Molotov. Cost me twenty rubles.” She handed it to him. “Real shampoo for your hair.”
“You spent twenty rubles on a bottle of shampoo?” he said, mock aghast, taking it from her and grabbing her fingers.
“Better than two hundred and fifty rubles on a cup of flour,” she replied, quickly pulling her fingers away and trying to change the subject.
“Was that twenty of my rubles?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “The rubles in your book came in very handy. Thank you.” She did not look at him. “Thank you for everything.”
“I’m glad they did, and you’re welcome. For everything.” He could not tear his eyes away from her. “Tatiasha, you’ve gotten so blonde.”
She shrugged casually. “It’s the sun.”
“And so freckled—”
“The sun.”
“And so—”
“Let me point you to the river.”
“Wait. Look what I’ve brought for you.” Crouching near his bag, he showed her many cans of tushonka, some coffee, a large bag of lump sugar, rock salt, cigarettes, and bottles of vodka. “And I got you another English-Russian book,” he said. “Have you been practicing your English?”
“Not really,” Tatiana replied. “I haven’t had time. I can’t believe you carried all that. It must have been so heavy.” Pausing, she said, “But thank you. Come on outside.”
Taking a towel from Naira, they walked through the porch and down the steps to the back garden. Alexander stood as close to Tatiana as possible without his body actually touching hers. He knew that six pairs of eyes were on them from the porch. Tatiana pointed. Alexander wasn’t even looking at where she was pointing. He was looking at her blonde eyebrows. He wanted to touch them with his fingers.
He wanted to touch her with his fingers.
Missing a breath, he touched the faint scar above the brow where she had been injured during the fight with her father. “That’s almost gone,” he said quietly. “Can’t even see it.”
“If you can’t see it,” Tatiana said lightly, “then why are you touching it?” She didn’t look at him. “Alexander,” she said, “can you look where I’m pointing? It’s right through the pines. Will you look? Just cross the road, and there’s a path between the trees. Walk down a hundred meters into the clearing. I do the laundry there. You can’t miss it. The Kama is a big river.”
“I’ll get lost, for sure,” said Alexander, bending to her ear and lowering his voice. “Come and show me.”
“Tania has to cook dinner,” said Zoe, coming up to them. “Why don’t I show you?”
“Yes,” Tatiana said, backing away. “Why doesn’t Zoe show you? I really do have to start cooking if we’re to eat tonight.”
Alexander said, “No, Zoe. Excuse us,” and he pulled Tatiana away. “Come with me to the river,” he repeated. “You can tell me what’s upsetting you, and I’ll—”
“Not now, Alexander,” Tatiana whispered. “Not now.”
Sighing, he let go of her and went by himself. When he returned, clean and shaven, dressed in his Class-Bs, he saw that Zoe was shamelessly interested in him. Alexander wasn’t surprised. In a town with no young men, he could have had one eye and no teeth and Zoe would have been interested. Tatiana was another story. She obstinately avoided meeting his eyes. While leaning over the hearth and her frying pans, she said, “You’ve shaved.”
“How would you know?” He was staring at her back and hips as she leaned over in her yellow dress. Her waist tapered into her tight, round-as-a-moon hips, and the backs of her bare thighs peeked out below the short hem. He was pulsing inside. “Tania, this village life agrees with you,” Alexander said after a few moments.
Straightening up, she was about to walk to the porch when he grabbed her hand and put it to his cheek. “Do you like it better smooth?” He rubbed her hand back and forth against his face and then kissed her fingers.
Gently she pulled her hand away. “I haven’t seen much of you clean-shaven,” she muttered. “Either way is fine. I’m covered in onions, Alexander,” she said. “I don’t want to get you all messy. You just got so nice and… clean.” She cleared her throat and averted her eyes.
“Tatia,” he said, not letting go of her floury hand, “it’s me. What’s the matter?”
She raised her eyes to him and blinked, and he saw hurt in her eyes, hurt, and warmth, and sadness, but hurt foremost, and he started to say, “What—”
“Alexander, dear, come in here with us. Let Tania finish making dinner. Come, have a drink.”
He went out to the porch. Naira handed him a shot of vodka. Shaking his head, Alexander said, “I’m not drinking without Tatiana. Tania! Come.”
“She’ll drink the next one with us.”
“No,” he said. “She’ll drink the first one with us. Tania, come out here.”
She came out, smelling sweetly of potatoes and onions, and stood next to him.
Naira said, “Our Tanechka doesn’t even drink.”
“I’ll drink to Alexander,” Tatiana said. Alexander handed her his vodka glass, his fingers touching hers. Naira poured him another. They raised their glasses. “To Alexander,” said Tatiana, her voice breaking. Her eyes were filled with tears.
“To Alexander,” they echoed. “And to Dasha.”
“And to Dasha,” Alexander said quietly.
They drank, and Tatiana went back inside.
A dozen people from the village came by before dinner, all wanting to meet Alexander, all bringing small gifts. One woman brought an egg. One old man a fishhook. Another man a fishing line. One young girl a few hard candies. Every one of them shook his hand, and some bowed, and one woman got on her knees, crossed herself, and kissed the glass he was holding. Alexander was moved and exhausted. He took out a cigarette.
Vova said, “Why don’t we take that outside? Our Tania has a hard time with smoke in the house.”
Alexander put away his cigarette, swearing under his breath. To have Vova look out for Tania’s welfare was too much. But before he could say another word, he felt Tatiana’s hand on his shoulder and her face right in front of him as she put an ashtray on the table. “Smoke, Alexander, smoke,” she said.
Petulantly Vova said, “But, Tania, the smoke bothers you. That’s why we all go outside.”
“I know I said that, Vova,” Tatiana declared. “But Alexander didn’t come all the way from the war to smoke outside. He’ll smoke where he pleases.”
Shaking his head, Alexander said, “I don’t need to smoke.” He wanted her hand on his shoulder and her face in front of him again. “Tania, do you need help?”
“Yes, you can help by getting up and eating my food. It’s dinnertime.”
The four ladies sat on one side of the long table that was flanked by two benches. “Usually Tatiana sits on the end. So she can get up and get stuff, you know?” Zoe smiled.
“Oh, I know,” said Alexander. “I’ll sit next to her.”
“Usually I sit next to her,” said Vova.
Shrugging and not interested in dealing with Vova, Alexander looked at Tatiana and raised his eyebrows.
She wiped her hands on a towel and said, “How about if I sit between Alexander and Vova.”
“Fine,” said Zoe. “And I’ll sit on the other side of Alexander.”
“Fine,” said Alexander.
Tatiana had made a cucumber and tomato salad and cooked some potatoes with onions and tushonka. She opened a jar of marinated mushrooms. There was white bread, some butter, milk, cheese, and a few hard-boiled eggs.
“What can I get you, Shu—?” asked Tatiana, sliding in next to him. “Do you want some salad?”
“Yes, please.”
She stood up. “What about some mushrooms?”
“Yes, please.”
Tatiana spooned food onto his plate, standing near him. The only reason Alexander let her continue and didn’t get the food himself was because her bare leg was touching his trousers and her hip was pressing into his elbow. He was going to have her get him seconds and thirds to keep her standing this close to him. His urge was to put his arm around her waist. He took his fork instead. “Yes, please, some potatoes, too. Yes, that’s plenty. Some bread, yes, that’s good, butter, yes.”
Alexander thought she would sit down, but no, she walked around the table and ladled out food for the old ladies.
And then she served Vova. Alexander’s heart tightened when he saw her serve Vova with casual familiarity. Vova thanked her, and she smiled lightly, looking right at him.
At Vova she looked. At Vova she smiled. For God’s sake, thought Alexander. The only thing that prevented him from feeling worse about it was that in Tania’s eyes he saw nothing for Vova.
Finally she sat down.
“Tania,” he said, “I’m so glad to see food in front of you again.”
“Me, too,” she replied.
The rooms were so dark that he could not see her well, but he could see blood trickling from her mouth as she cut the black bread for him, for Dasha, and, last, for herself. Now she was eating white bread, and butter, and eggs. “Much better, Tatia,” he whispered. “Thank God.”
“Yes,” she said, and nearly inaudibly, “Thank you.”
Zoe’s annoying elbow intermittently and purposefully rubbed against Alexander’s. Zoe played the game very well. Alexander wondered if Tatiana even noticed Zoe.
Moving away from Zoe, Alexander scooted closer to Tatiana. “Just to give you a bit more room, Zoe,” he said with an indifferent smile.
“Yes, but look,” said Naira, who was sitting across from them, “now poor Tanechka is all squished.”
“I’m fine,” said Tatiana. Under the table her leg was flush with his. He nudged her once.
“So,” Alexander said, eating hungrily, “have I had enough to drink for you to tell me what happened to you?”
Tears. Not from Tatiana, from the four ladies. “Oh, Alexander! We don’t think you’ve had enough to drink to hear it all.”
“Can I hear some of it?”
Naira said, “Tania doesn’t like us to talk about it, but, Tanechka, for Alexander, can we tell him what happened?”
“For Alexander, yes, tell him what happened.” Tatiana sighed.
“I want Tania to tell me what happened,” Alexander said. “Do you want more vodka?”
“No,” she replied, pouring one for him. “Alexander, there is really not much to tell. Like I told you, we got to Kobona. Dasha died. I came here and was sick for a while—”
“Near death, I tell you!” exclaimed Naira.
“Naira Mikhailovna, please,” said Tatiana. “I was a little sick.”
“Sick?” Axinya cried. “Alexander, that child got to us in January and was at death’s door until March. What didn’t she have? She had scurvy—”
“She was bleeding from the inside out!” mouthed Dusia. “Just like our former Tsarevich Alexis. Just like him. Bled and bled.”
“That’s scurvy for you,” said Alexander gently.
“The Tsarevich did not have scurvy,” said Tatiana. “He had hemophilia.”
“Have you forgotten about her double pneumonia?” cried Axinya. “Both her lungs collapsed!”
“Axinya, please,” said Tatiana. “It was only one lung.”
“It was the pneumonia that almost killed her. She couldn’t breathe,” Naira stated, sticking her hand across the table for Tatiana to pat.
“It wasn’t pneumonia that nearly killed her!” Axinya exclaimed. “It was TB. Naira, you’re so forgetful. Don’t you remember her coughing up blood for weeks?”
“Oh, my God, Tania,” whispered Alexander.
“Alexander, I’m fine. Really,” said Tatiana. “I had a mild case of TB. They cured it even before I got out of the hospital. The doctor said soon I should be as good as before. The doctor said by next year the TB would be all gone.”
“And you were going to let me smoke inside.”
“So what?” she said. “You always smoke inside. I’m used to it.”
“So what?” cried Axinya. “Tania, you were in an isolation tent for a month. We sat by her, Alexander, as she lay, coughing, spitting blood—”
“Why don’t you tell him how you got TB?” said Naira loudly.
Alexander felt Tatiana shudder next to him. “That I’ll tell him later.”
“When later?” whispered Alexander out of the corner of his mouth. She did not whisper back.
“Tania!” exclaimed Axinya. “Tell Alexander about what you had to go through to get here. Tell him.”
“Tell me, Tania,” he said, looking at her with feeling. The food she made was so good; otherwise he would have lost his appetite.
As if it was a great effort to her, Tatiana said, “Look, me and hundreds of others were piled on into trucks and then driven to the train, near Volkhov…”
“Tell him about the train!”
“It wasn’t the best of trains. There were a lot of us…”
“Tell him how many!”
“I don’t know how many,” said Tatiana. “We were…”
“What happened when the people died on the trains?” said Dusia, crossing herself.
“Oh, they just threw them out. To make more room.”
Naira said, sniffling, “There was more room when they got to the Volga River.”
Axinya exclaimed, “Alexander, the railroad bridge across the Volga had been blown up, and the train couldn’t get across. All the evacuees, including our Tanechka, were told they had to cross the ice on foot in their frightful condition. What about that?”
Alexander blinked and blinked again. He didn’t take his eyes off Tatiana’s bemused and slightly wearied face.
“How many people crossed that, Tania? How many people died on the ice? Tell him.”
“I don’t know, Axinya. I wasn’t counting…”
“Nobody,” said Dusia. “I’m sure nobody survived it.”
“Well, Tania survived it,” said Alexander, his elbow pressing into Tatiana’s arm, his leg pressing into hers.
“And other people survived it,” said Tatiana. Lowering her voice, she added, “Not many.”
“Tania, tell him,” Axinya exclaimed, “how many kilometers you had to walk, tubercular, pneumatic, in the snow, in the blizzard, to the next rail station because there weren’t enough trucks to carry all of you sick and starving to the train. Tell him how many.” She widened her eyes. “It was, like, fifteen!”
“No, dear,” Tatiana corrected. “It was maybe three. And there was no blizzard. It was just cold.”
“Did they give you anything to eat?” Axinya demanded. “No!”
“Yes,” said Tatiana. “I had a little food.”
“Tania!” cried Axinya. “Tell him about the train, tell him how there was no place for you to lie down, how you stood for three days from Volkhov to the Volga!”
“I stood for three days,” said Tatiana, stabbing her food with a fork. “From Volkhov to the Volga.”
Wiping her eyes, Dusia said, “After the Volga crossing, so many people died that Tatiana had a shelf on the train to lie down on, right, Tania? She lay down—”
“And never got up again!” stated Axinya.
“Dear,” said Tatiana, “I did eventually get up.” She shook her head.
“No,” said Axinya. “There I’m not exaggerating. You didn’t. The conductor asked where you were going, and he couldn’t wake you to ask you…”
“But finally he woke me.”
“Finally, yes!” cried Axinya. “But he thought you were dead.”
Raisa added, “She got off the train at Molotov and asked how far Lazarevo was, and when she heard it was ten kilometers, she…”
Loud crying from all four ladies.
Tatiana said to Alexander, “Sorry you have to hear all this.”
Alexander stopped eating. He placed his hand on her back, patting her gently. When he saw she didn’t move away and didn’t flinch and didn’t blush, he left his hand on her for another long moment. Then he picked up his fork again.
“Alexander, do you know what she did when she heard Lazarevo was ten kilometers from Molotov?”
“Let me guess,” said Alexander, smiling. “She fainted.”
“Yes! How did you know?” asked Axinya, studying him.
“I faint all the time,” said Tatiana. “I’m a big wimp.”
Naira said, “After she came out of isolation, we sat next to her hospital bed, holding her oxygen mask to her face to help her breathe.” Wiping her face, she said, “When her grandmother died—”
The fork dropped from Alexander’s hand. Involuntarily. Mutely he sat and looked into his plate, unable to turn his head even to Tatiana. It was she who turned her head to him, gazing at him with softness and sorrow. “Where is that vodka, Tania?” Alexander said. “Clearly I haven’t had enough.”
She poured it for him and poured a small glass for herself, and then they lifted their glasses, clinking lightly, and stared at each other, faces full of Leningrad, and Fifth Soviet, and her family and his family, and Lake Ladoga, and night. Tatiana whispered, “Courage, Shura.”
He couldn’t reply. He swallowed the vodka instead.
The rest of the people at the table fell quiet until Alexander asked, “How did she die?”
Naira wiped her nose. “Dysentery. Last December.” She leaned forward. “Personally, I think that after she lost Tania’s grandfather, she just didn’t want to go on.” Naira glanced at Tatiana. “I know Tania agrees with me.”
Tatiana nodded. “She wanted to,” she said. “She just couldn’t.”
Naira poured Alexander another drink. “When Anna was dying, she said to me, ‘Naira, I wish you could see all my granddaughters, but you’re probably never going to see our baby Tania. She’ll never make it here. She is so frail.’ ”
“Anna,” said Alexander, downing the vodka, “was not such a good judge of her granddaughters.”
“She said to us,” Naira continued, “ ‘If my granddaughters come, please make sure they’re all right. Keep my house for them—‘ “
“House?” asked Alexander, instantly perking up. “What house?”
“Oh, they had an izba—”
“Where is this izba?”
“Just in the woods a bit. By the river. Tania can show you. When Tania got better and came to Lazarevo with us, she wanted to live in that house,” Naira said, widening her eyes meaningfully, “all by herself.”
