Текст книги "The Bronze Horseman"

Автор книги: Paullina Simons

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Текущая страница: 37 (всего у книги 47 страниц)

Someone had to protect Alexander—not just from random death, no, but from deliberate destruction.

Without moving, without blinking, without flinching, Tatiana studied Dimitri.

She watched him put down his cup and move closer on the couch to her. Then she blinked and came out of her thoughts. “What are you doing?”

“I can tell, Tania,” Dimitri said. “You are not a child anymore.”

She did not move a muscle as he moved closer still.

“Inga and Stan out there told me you are working so much that they are convinced you are seeing a doctor at the hospital. Is that true?”

“If Inga and Stan told you, then it must be,” Tatiana said. “The Communists never lie, Dimitri.”

Nodding, Dimitri moved closer.

“What are you doing?” Tatiana got up off the couch. “Listen, it’s getting late.”

“Tania, come on. You’re lonely. I’m lonely. I hate my life, hate every minute of every day of it. Do you feel like that sometimes?”

Only tonight, Tatiana thought. “No, Dima. I’m fine. I have a good life, all things considered. I’m working, the hospital needs me, my patients need me. I’m alive. I have food.”

“Tania, but you must be so lonely.”

“How can I be lonely?” she said. “I’m constantly surrounded by people. And I thought I was seeing a doctor? Listen, let’s stop this. It’s late.”

He got up and made a move toward her. Tatiana put out her hands. “Dimitri, that’s all over. I’m not the one for you.” She stared at him pointedly. “And you’ve always known that, yet you’ve always been quite persistent. Why?”

With an easy laugh, Dimitri said, “Maybe I had been hoping, dear Tania, that the love of a good young woman like yourself would redeem a rogue like me.”

Tatiana leveled her cold gaze on him. “I’m glad to hear,” she said at last, “that you don’t think you’re beyond redemption.”

He laughed again. “Oh, but I am, Tania,” he said. “I am. Because I didn’t have the love of a good young woman like you.” He stopped laughing and raised his eyes to her. “But who did?” he said quietly.

Tatiana didn’t reply, standing in the place where the dining room table used to be, before Alexander sawed it to pieces for her and Dasha to use as firewood. So many ghosts in one small, dark room. It was almost as if the room were still crowded with feeling, with want, with hunger.

Dimitri’s eyes flashed. “I don’t understand,” he said loudly. “Why did you come to the barracks asking for me? I thought this was what you wanted. Are you just trying to lead me on? To tease me?” He raised his voice, far beyond the levels these walls could contain. He came closer. “Because in the army we have a word for girls who tease us.” He laughed. “We call them mothers.”

“Dima, is that what you think? That I’m a tease? You think that’s me, the girl who wants one thing and pretends she wants another? Is that me?”

He grumbled without replying.

“I thought so,” said Tatiana. “I’ve been very clear with you right from the start. I came to the barracks asking for you, for Marazov. I just wanted to see a familiar face.” Tatiana wasn’t going to back down, though inside she was cold and far away from him.

“Did you ask for Alexander, too, perhaps?” Dimitri asked. “Because if you did, you know, you wouldn’t find him at the garrison. Alexander would be either up in Morozovo, if he was on duty, or in every knocking joint in Leningrad, if he wasn’t.”

Feeling herself pale inside and out, and hoping Dimitri didn’t see and didn’t hear the paling of her voice, Tatiana said, “I asked for everybody I knew.”

“Everybody except Petrenko,” Dimitri said, as if he knew. “Even though you were quite friendly with him, coming around as often as you used to last year. Why didn’t you ask for your friend, Ivan Petrenko? Before he got himself killed, he told me that he sometimes used to walk you to the ration store. On orders of Captain Belov, of course. He was quite helpful to you and your family. Why wouldn’t you ask about him?”

Tatiana was stunned. She felt herself to be so ridiculously in need of Alexander, so ridiculously in need of protection against this specter of a man in her room that she didn’t know what to say.

Tatiana hadn’t asked about Petrenko because she knew that Petrenko was dead. But she only knew he was dead from Alexander’s letters, and Alexander could not be writing to her.

What to do, what to do, to end this revolting lie enveloping her life.

Tatiana was so fed up, so frustrated, so tired, so desperate, that she nearly opened her mouth and told Dimitri about Alexander. Truth was better than this. Tell the truth and live with the consequences.

It was the consequences that stopped her.

Straightening her back and staring coldly at Dimitri, Tatiana said firmly, “Dimitri, what the hell are you trying to get out of me? Stop trying to manipulate me with your questions. Either ask me outright or keep quiet. I’m too tired for your games. What do you want to know? Why I didn’t ask for Petrenko? Because I asked for Marazov first, and once I knew he was at the garrison, I stopped asking. Now, enough!”

Dimitri stared at her with uneasy surprise.

There was a knock on the door. It was Inga. “What’s going on?” she said sleepily, standing in her tattered gray bathrobe. “I heard so much noise. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, thank you, Inga,” Tatiana said, slamming the door. Tatiana would deal with Inga later.

Dimitri came up to her and said, “I’m sorry, Tania. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just misunderstood your intentions.”

“That’s fine, Dimitri. It’s late. Let’s say good night.”

Dimitri tried to come near her, and Tatiana backed away.

Stepping away himself, he shrugged. “I always wished it had worked out for us, Tania.”

“Did you, Dimitri?” said Tatiana.

“Of course.”

“Dimitri! How—” Tatiana exclaimed and broke off.

Dimitri stood in a room in which he had once spent many evenings being fed and watered. He had sat with Tatiana’s family, who had invited him into their home and made him a part of their life. He had been in this room now for an hour. He had talked freely about himself, accused Tatiana of she didn’t know what. He’d told her things that sounded like lies. She didn’t know. What he did not do was ask her what had happened to the six people who had once been in this room with him. He did not ask about her mother, or her father, or her grandparents, or Marina, or her mother’s mother. He did not ask her in Kobona in January, he did not ask her now. If he knew about their fate, he did not utter a single commiserating word, he did not make a single comforting wave of his hand. How did Dimitri think it could have worked out for him and anyone, but especially for him and Tatiana, when he could not look for a second beyond himself into anyone else’s life or heart? Tatiana didn’t care that he didn’t ask after her family. What she wanted was for him not to pretend to her, as if she didn’t know the truth.

Tatiana wanted to say this to Dimitri. But it wasn’t worth it.

Though she suspected that the truth was plain in her eyes, because bowing his head and appearing even more hunched, Dimitri stammered, “I just can’t seem to say the right thing.”

“We’ll say good night,” Tatiana said coldly. That will be the right thing.

He went to the door, and she followed him. “Tania, I think this is good-bye. I don’t think we’re going to see each other again.”

“If we’re meant to, we will.” Tatiana swallowed hard, numb inside, her legs weak.

Dimitri lowered his voice, and whispered, “Where I’m going, Tatiana, you will never see me again.”

“Oh, yes?” she mouthed, her strength gone.

He left at last, leaving black turmoil behind for Tatiana, who lay on her cot between the wall and the back of the couch, lay in all her clothes clutching her wedding ring to her chest, not moving or sleeping until morning.

3

In Morozovo, Alexander was sitting behind a table in his officer’s tent when Dimitri stepped inside with some cigarettes and vodka. Alexander was wearing his coat, and his injured hands were numb from the cold. He was thinking of going to the mess tent to get some warmth and some food, but he couldn’t leave his tent. It was Friday, and he had a meeting with General Govorov in an hour to talk about their preparations for an assault on the Germans across the river.

It was November, and after four failed attempts to cross the Neva, the 67th Army was now impatiently waiting for the river to freeze. Finally the Leningrad command concluded that it would be easier to attack with the foot soldiers in line formations on ice instead of being clustered in easy-to-destroy pontoon boats.

Dimitri placed the bottles of vodka and the tobacco with the rolling papers on the table. Alexander paid him. He wanted Dimitri to leave. He had just been reading a letter from Tatiana that was puzzling him. He hadn’t written to her for the few weeks that he’d been hurt, even though he could have had a nurse write the letter for him. Alexander knew that if Tatiana saw a letter in someone else’s handwriting, she would go insane reading between the lines into how badly he was really injured. Not wanting her to worry, he had sent her his September money and waited until he could hold a pen, writing to her himself toward the end of the month.

He wrote that his burn wounds were just God’s way of protecting him. Unable to function at his weapons, Alexander had missed two disastrous assaults on the Neva in September, which had decimated the first and second line armies so utterly that all reserves had to be brought in from the Leningrad garrison. The Volkhov front would have been glad to supply the Leningrad front with men—if only they had some. But after Hitler’s directive to Manstein to hold the Neva and the blockade around Leningrad at all costs, there were hardly any men left in Meretskov’s 2nd Army in Volkhov.

Elsewhere, Stalingrad was being razed to the ground. The Ukraine was Hitler’s. Leningrad was barely holding. The Red Army was thoroughly debilitated. Govorov was planning another attack on the Germans across the Neva. And Alexander was sitting at his desk, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with his wife.

Here it was November, and none of her letters that came with steady and conversational regularity, though without some of her usual candid fervor, mentioned a word about his injuries. He was driving himself to distraction trying to read between the lines of her letters when Dimitri had come in with the supplies. And now Dimitri wasn’t leaving.

“Alexander, can you pour me a drink? For old times’ sake?”

Reluctantly Alexander poured Dimitri a drink. He poured himself a smaller one. He sat behind his desk, Dimitri in a chair opposite him. They talked about the impending invasion and about the frightful battles with the Germans across the Neva on the Volkhov side.

“Alexander,” Dimitri said quietly, “how can you sit there so calmly knowing what’s ahead of you? Four attempts to cross the Neva, most of our men dead, and I hear that the fifth attack once the ice freezes is going to be our last one, that not a single man will be allowed to return until the blockade is broken; did you hear that, too?”

“I heard something about it, yes.”

“I can’t be here anymore. I can’t. Just yesterday I was delivering supplies to the Neva for the Nevsky Patch troops, and a rocket bomb flew all the way from Sinyavino across the river and blew up yet another fucking squadron getting ready to ferry. I was maybe a hundred meters away from the explosion. But look”—he showed Alexander the cuts on his face—”it doesn’t end.”

“No, Dimitri, it doesn’t.”

Lowering his voice a notch, Dimitri said, “Alexander, you will not believe how unprotected the Lisiy Nos area is right now! I deliver to our border troops there and see the Finns in the woods. There are maybe a dozen men in all. It’s providential. You can come with me in my delivery truck, and before we get to the border, we can dump the truck, and then—”

“Dima!” whispered Alexander. “Dump the truck? Look at you. You can barely walk on straight ground. We talked about this in June—”

“Not just in June. We talked this to death. I’m tired of talking. Tired of waiting. I can’t wait anymore. Let’s just go, we’ll go, and we’ll make it, and if we won’t make it, they’ll shoot us. What’s the difference? At least this way we stand a chance.”

“Listen to me—” Alexander said, getting up from his desk.

“No, you listen to me. This war has changed me—”

“Has it?”

“Yes!” said Dimitri. “It has shown me that I have to fight for my own life to survive. By whatever means necessary. Everything I’ve done so far just hasn’t worked. Not the moving from platoon to platoon, not the foot wound, not the months in the hospital, not the Kobona interlude—nothing! I’ve been trying to save my life until we make our move again. But the Germans are determined to kill me. And I’m determined not to let them.” Dimitri paused and lowered his voice. “Makes your little stunt with the now deceased and forgotten Yuri Stepanov even more infuriating in retrospect.” His voice barely audible, Dimitri said, “He’s dead, and we’re still here. All because you had to bring him back. We’d be in America right now, if it weren’t for you.”

Fighting with himself for control, Alexander came around on Dimitri’s side of the desk, bent down to him, and said through his teeth, “And I told you then the same thing I am telling you now. Over and over then. Over and over now. Go! Leave. Go ahead. I will give you half of my money. You know how to get to Helsinki and Stockholm like the back of your hand. Why don’t you just go?”

Dimitri pulled away on his chair from Alexander. “You know very well I can’t go on my own. I don’t speak a word of English.”

“You don’t need to speak English! Just get to Stockholm and claim refugee status. They’ll take you, Dimitri, even without English,” Alexander said coldly, backing slightly away.

“And now with my leg—”

“Forget your leg. Drag it behind you if you have to. I’ll give you half of the money—”

“Give me half of the money? What the fuck are you talking about? We are supposed to be going together, remember? That was our plan, right. Together?” Dimitri paused. “I’m not going alone!”

“If you’re not going alone,” Alexander hissed, “then you will wait until I say the time is right.” He unclenched his fists. “The time is not right. In the spring it will be—”

“I’m not waiting till the fucking spring!”

“What choice do you have? Do you want to succeed, or do you want to fail in a hurry? You know the NKVD border troops shoot deserters on the spot.”

“I’ll be dead by the spring,” said Dimitri, getting up from the chair and attempting to square off against Alexander. “You’ll be dead by the spring. What’s the matter with you? What the fuck has gotten into you? Do you not want to run anymore? What would you rather do—die?”

Keeping the torment out of his eyes, Alexander did not reply.

Dimitri glared at him. “Five years ago, when you were nobody, had nobody, when you needed me, I did you a favor, Captain of the Red Army.”

Alexander took one stride and stood so close to Dimitri that Dimitri not only backed off but fell into his chair, glancing up at Alexander with anxiety.

“Yes, you did,” Alexander said. “And I have never forgotten it.”

“All right, all right,” Dimitri said. “Don’t get all—”

“Have I made myself clear? We will wait for the right time.”

“But the border at Lisiy Nos is unprotected now!” Dimitri exclaimed. “What the fuck are we waiting for? Now is an ideal time to go. Later the Soviets will bring more troops in, the Finns will bring more troops in, the war will continue there. Now it’s a stalemate. I say let’s go now—before the battle for Leningrad kills you.”

“Who’s stopping you?” said Alexander. “Go!”

“Alexander,” said Dimitri, “for the last time, I’m not going without you.”

“Dimitri,” said Alexander, “for the last time, I’m not going now.”

“When then?”

“I will tell you when. First we will break the blockade. Yes, it will take all we have, but we will do it, and then in the spring—”

Dimitri chuckled. “Maybe we should just send Tania to do it.”

For a moment Alexander thought he had misheard.

Did Dimitri just mention Tatiana?

“What did you just say?” he asked quietly and slowly.

“I said, maybe we should just send Tania. She is quite the little blockade runner.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That girl,” Dimitri said with admiration, “I am convinced, could get to Australia by herself if she wanted to!” Howling, he threw his head back. “Before we know it, she’ll be making regular food runs between Molotov and Leningrad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m telling you, Alexander,” Dimitri continued, “instead of wasting two hundred thousand of our men, including you and me, we should have Tatiana Metanova break the blockade.”

Stubbing out his cigarette, Alexander said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hoping Dimitri wouldn’t notice, he clenched his hands around the chair posts.

“I said to her, I said, ‘Tania, you ought to enlist. You’ll be a general in no time.’ And she said she actually was thinking of joining—”

“What do you mean—” Alexander interrupted, finding it hard to continue. “What do you mean, you said to her?”

“A week ago. She made me dinner on Fifth Soviet. They finally had their pipes fixed. The apartment, well, some complete strangers are living there, but…” Dimitri smiled. “She is getting to be quite the little cook.”

It took most of what Alexander had to remain impassive.

“Are you all right?” Dimitri said with an amused look on his face.

“I’m fine. But what are you talking about, Dima? Is this another one of your little white lies? Tatiana is not in Leningrad.”

“Alexander, believe me, I’d know Tania anywhere.” He smiled. “She looks good. She told me she was seeing a doctor.” He laughed. “Can you believe it? Our little Tanechka. Who would have thought that she would be the only one left standing?”

Alexander would have liked to say stop it, but he did not trust his voice. He said nothing, his hands remaining on the posts of the chair.

He had just gotten a letter from her yesterday. A letter!

“Tania came looking for me at the barracks. Made me dinner. She said she’d been in Leningrad since the middle of October. No, and how she got there, too!” Dimitri laughed. “Literally walking through the Volkhov front, as if Manstein and his thousand-kilo bombs did not exist.” Dimitri shook his head. “When I get into the good fight, I want her with me.”

Keeping himself under barest control, Alexander said, “And when is it, Dimitri, that you think you’ll be going into the good fight?”

“Very clever—”

“Dimitri, I don’t give a shit. This doesn’t matter. But I just realized I’m late. I have a meeting with General Govorov in a few minutes. You will have to excuse me.”

After Dimitri left, Alexander became so upset in his tent that in his stricken fury he broke apart the wooden chair he had been sitting on.

Now he knew what was wrong with her letters. Alexander was weak from anger, and he didn’t have enough time to calm down before his meeting with Govorov, or after. Anger continued to cloud his judgment. After his meeting he went to Colonel Stepanov.

“Oh, no,” said Stepanov, coming from around his desk. “I see that look in your eyes, Captain Belov.” He smiled.

With his hat in his hands, Alexander nodded and said, “Sir, you have been very kind to me. I haven’t had a day off since I came back in July.”

“But, Belov, you had over five weeks off in July!”

“All I’m asking for is a few days, sir. If you like, I can drive a supply truck into Leningrad. That way it will be partly for army business, too.”

“What’s going on, Alexander?” Stepanov said, coming closer and lowering his voice.

Alexander gave a small shake of his head. “Everything is fine.”

Stepanov studied him. “Does it have anything to do with the money you’re sending out of here to Molotov every month?”

“You’re right, sir, maybe we should stop the money transfers to Molotov.”

Stepanov lowered his voice another notch. “Does it have anything to do with the stamp from a registry office in Molotov that I saw in your passport when I was signing you in?”

Alexander kept silent. “Sir, I am urgently needed in Leningrad.” He paused, trying to collect himself. “It’s just for a few days.”

Stepanov sighed. “If you don’t come back by ten o’clock roll call on Sunday…”

“Sir, I will be here. It’s more than enough time. Thank you. I’ve never let you down. I won’t forget this.”

As Alexander was leaving, Stepanov said, “Take care of your personal business, son. Forget the supplies. You won’t have another chance for personal business until we break the blockade.”

4

Tatiana was dragging her feet. She was hanging around her last patients even though it was long past her sign-out time. She was a little hungry, but cooking for herself was such a displeasure, she wished she could nourish her body intravenously, like some of the wounded. Working with critically injured men and women was preferable to being in her room by herself.

Finally she left and, not lifting her head, slowly walked home down Grechesky in the dark.

She walked through the communal apartment. Inga was sitting on the couch in the hallway and casually drinking tea. Why was she in Tatiana’s home? It was so incongruous that she and Stan should remain. “Hello, Inga,” said Tatiana tiredly as she took off her coat.

“Hmm. Someone was here for you.”

She squared her shoulders. “Did you do as I asked and not let anyone in?”

“Yes, I did as you asked,” Inga replied shortly. “He wasn’t too pleased, though. Another soldier—”

“What soldier?”

“I don’t know.”

Coming up to Inga and lowering her voice, Tatiana whispered, “Who was it? It wasn’t the same soldier, was it—”

“No. Different. Tall.”

Tatiana’s heart jumped. Tall!

“Where—” she stammered. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. I told him he couldn’t come in. He didn’t want to hear anything after that. You have quite a contingent of soldiers following you around, don’t you?”

Without even grabbing her coat, Tatiana swirled around the small hallway, swung open the door, and there in front of her stood Alexander.

“Oh,” she gasped, her knees buckling. “Oh, God.” Seeing the expression in his darkened eyes, she knew what he was feeling. She didn’t care. Her eyes filling with tears, she leaned her head into his coat.

He didn’t even put his arms around her. “Come on,” he said coldly, taking her by the arm. “Let’s go inside.”

Inga said, “Tania told me not to let anyone in, Captain– Tania, aren’t you going to introduce us?” She had put down her cup.

“No,” said Alexander, pushing Tatiana into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. She came to him instantly, her shaking arms open, her face overflowing. She could barely get his name out of her emotional mouth. “Shura…”

He put his palms out. “Don’t come near me.”

Not listening, Tatiana came to him, and said, “Shura, I am so happy to see you. How are your hands?”

He pushed her hard away, saying loudly, “No, Tatiana! Stay away from me.”

He walked through the room to the window. It was cold by the window. Tatiana followed him. Her need to lay her hands on him and to have him touch her was so desperate that she forgot the pain left by Dimitri’s visit, by the missing five thousand dollars, by her own twisted feelings. “Shura,” Tatiana said, her voice breaking. “Why are you pushing me?”

“What have you done?” Alexander’s eyes were bitter and angry. “Why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here,” Tatiana said to him. “You needed me. I came.”

“I don’t need you here!” he yelled. Tatiana flinched but did not move away. “I don’t need you here,” he repeated. “I need you safe!”

“I know,” she said. “Please let me touch you.”

“Stay away from me.”

“Shura, I told you, I cannot be away from you. I didn’t think you could feel me all the way in Lazarevo. You need me close to you.”

“Close to me? Not close to me, Tatiana,” he said nastily, standing against the windowsill. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the street. Alexander’s face was dark, his eyes were dark.

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was trembling in supplication. “Of course, close to you. Close to who?”

“What the fuck were you thinking,” he yelled, “going to the barracks and asking for Dimitri?”

“I didn’t ask for Dimitri!” she exclaimed faintly. “I went to find you. I didn’t know what happened to you. You stopped writing to me.”

“You didn’t write to me for six months!” he said loudly. “You could have waited two weeks, no?”

“It was over a month, and I couldn’t have, no,” she said. “Shura, I’m here for you.” Tatiana came a step closer. “For you. You told me never to look away from you. Here I am. Look into my eyes and tell me what I feel.” Pleadingly she opened her hands to him. “What do I feel, Shura?” she whispered.

Alexander blinked, his teeth grinding. “Look into my eyes and tell me what I feel, Tatiana.”

She clasped her hands together.

“You promised me!” Alexander said. “You promised me. You gave me your word!”

Tatiana remembered. She looked into his face. She was so weak and wanted him so much. And she could see that he needed her, if anything, even more. He just couldn’t see past his anger. Like always. “Alexander, husband, it’s me. It’s your Tania.” She almost cried as she opened her palms to him. “Shura, please…”

When he didn’t reply, Tatiana took off her shoes and came to stand in front of him at the window. She felt more vulnerable than ever, standing in her white uniform in front of him, with his black hair, black boots, and black trench coat looming over her, so emotional, so upset. “Please, let’s not fight. I am so happy to see you. I just want…” She would not lower her eyes from him, would not. “Shura,” she said, her body trembling, “don’t… push me away.”

He turned his face from her. Tatiana unbuttoned the front of her uniform and took hold of Alexander’s hand. “Kiss the palm of your hand and press it against your heart, you wrote to me,” she whispered, kissing the palm of his hand and then putting it on her bare breast, his large, warm, dark hand, the hand that had carried her and caressed her, and she closed her eyes and moaned.

“Oh, my God, Tatiana…” Alexander said, pulling her to him, his hands attacking her body. He pushed her down on the couch, his incensed lips not leaving her mouth, his hands in her hair. “What do you want from me?” He yanked off her uniform, vest, and underwear, leaving her naked except for her garters. Gripping her bare thighs above the stockings, he whispered, “Tania, God, what do you want from me… ?”

Tatiana couldn’t even answer. His body on hers was making her speechless.

“I’m furious with you.” He was kissing her as if he were dying. “You don’t care I’m furious with you?”

“I don’t care… take your anger out on me,” Tatiana groaned. “Go ahead, take it out on me, Shura… now.”

He was inside her in seconds.

Her hands clutching his head, Tatiana whispered, “Cover my mouth,” ready to scream.

Alexander hadn’t taken off his coat, nor his boots.

There was a knock on the door. “Tania, are you all right?” Inga’s voice sounded.

His hand over Tatiana’s mouth, Alexander yelled, “Get the hell away from the door!”

“Cover my mouth, Shura,” Tatiana whispered, crying from happiness. “Oh, God, cover it.”

“No, don’t get off me, don’t get off me, please,” she murmured, holding on to his coat, to his head, grasping on to any part of him. “How are your hands?” In the dark, she couldn’t see them. They felt scabbed.

“They’re fine.”

Tatiana was kissing his lips, his chin, his stubble, his eyes—she couldn’t take her lips away from his eyes—holding his head close to her. “Shura, darling, don’t get off me, please, I’ve missed you so much, stay right here. Stay where you are…” For a few dark moments Tatiana pressed herself against Alexander. “Don’t pull away from me, feel how warm I am? Don’t pull out into the cold…” She lay underneath him and tried not to cry. And failed. “Is that why you hadn’t written to me? Because of your hands?”

“Yes,” Alexander said. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You didn’t think the absence of your letters would make me crazy?”

“You know,” he said, getting off her, “I had hoped you would just wait.”

“Darling, lovely husband, are you hungry?” Tatiana murmured to him. “I can’t believe I’m touching you again. I can’t be this lucky. What can I make for you? I have some pork, some potatoes. Do you want food?”

“No,” Alexander said, helping her sit up. “Why is it so cold in here?”

“Stove’s broken. Bourzhuika is in the other room, remember? Slavin lets me use his Primus stove in the kitchen.” She smiled, her hands running up and down his coat. “Honey, Shura, do you want me to make you some tea?”

“Tania, you’ll freeze. Do you have anything else to wear? Something warm?”

“I’m burning,” she said, her hands on his coat. “I’m not cold.” She hung on to him.

“Why is the sofa in the middle of the room?”

“My bed is behind the couch.”

Alexander looked over the back of the couch to see Tatiana’s cot. Pulling a blanket off it, he covered her. “Why are you sleeping between the sofa and the wall?”

When she didn’t answer, Alexander reached over and touched the wall with his hand. They stared at each other in the dark. “Why did you give them the warm room, Tania?”

“I didn’t give it to them. They took it. There are two of them, only one of me. They’re sad. He’s got a bad back. Shura, how about a hot bath? I’ll run you one.”

“No. Get dressed. Right now.” Alexander buckled his belt and walked out of the bedroom, still in his coat. Disheveled and barely buttoned, Tatiana followed him. He walked past Inga in the hallway into the bedroom, where Stan was sitting reading the newspaper, and asked Stan to switch rooms with Tatiana. Stan said he wasn’t switching. Alexander replied that indeed Stan was, and he and Tatiana started moving all of Inga and Stan’s things into the cold room and all of Tatiana’s things into the warm room.

For fifteen minutes Tatiana heard Stan grumbling, standing with Inga in the hallway, and at one point as she passed him, she whispered, “Stanislav Stepanich, shh. Please. Don’t provoke him.”

Stan did not heed her warning. As Alexander was walking past carrying Stan’s trunk, Stan seethed, “Who do you think you are? You don’t know who you’re dealing with. You’ve got no right to treat me this way.”