“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. “Bu
t 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.”
“What was she thinking?” questioned Alexander.
Beaming, the ladies all loudly agreed, scoffing and snorting in unison. Naira said, “No granddaughter of our Anna is going to live by herself. What kind of nonsense is that? Who lives by themselves? We said, you are our family. Your beloved Deda was my first husband’s cousin by marriage. You come and live with us. It’s so much better for you here. And it is, isn’t it, Tanechka?”
“Yes, Naira Mikhailovna.” Tatiana served Alexander some more potatoes. “Are you still hungry?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I am anymore,” said Alexander. “I will certainly continue to eat.”
Naira said, “Our Tania is better now, but she has to watch herself. She still goes to Molotov every month to get checked out. TB can come back at any time. That’s why we all smoke outside—”
“Gladly,” piped up Vova, putting his arm on Tatiana’s shoulder.
Alexander was going to have to talk to Tatiana about Vova, and soon.
Axinya said, “Alexander, you have no idea how thin she was when she came to us . . .”
“I have some idea,” said Alexander. “Don’t I, Tania?”
She whispered, “Some idea, Shura.”
“She was skin and bones,” said Dusia. “Christ Himself almost could not save her.”
“It’s good that we don’t live in a collective farming village like our cousin Yulia, right, Naira?” said Axinya. “Yulia lives in Kulay near Archangelsk, and though she is fifty-seven, she works in the field all day, and then the Kolkhoz takes her food away. Here they just take our fish, but we can barter our eggs and goat milk for some butter or cheese or even some white flour.”
“Poor Yulia,” sniffed Naira. “But look at our Tanechka.”
Axinya smiled and looked affectionately at Tatiana. “We’ve fattened you up, haven’t we, honey? Eggs every day. Milk. Butter. We’ve fattened her up good, don’t you think, Alexander?”
“Hmm,” said Alexander, reaching underneath the table and lightly squeezing Tatiana’s thigh.
“She’s like a warm bun,” added Axinya.
“A warm bun?” Alexander repeated, his grinning face turning to Tatiana, who was a deep red. Her short dress wasn’t long enough to cover her thighs. His bare hand caressed her bare leg, under the table, during dinner, in front of six strangers. Alexander had to take his hand away. Had to. He lost his breath, along with his reserve, and his self-control.
“Alexander, want more?” Tatiana said, standing and picking up the frying pan. Her hands were unsteady. “There is plenty.” She smiled at him, breathing through her parted mouth. “Plenty.” Her face was flushed.
“I think I’ll have a drink instead,” Alexander said, unable to look up at her for a change.
Axinya said, “Alexander, we want you to know that we weren’t happy with Tanechka. We want you to know we were on your side.”
“Tania, what did you do to upset these nice women?” said Alexander lightly.
Why did Tania stop smiling and glare at Axinya?
Naira, mouth full of fried potatoes, said, “We told her to write to you and tell you what happened to Dasha so you wouldn’t come all this way expecting to marry your longtime love and be devastated. We told her. Spare him a trip to the middle of the country. Write to him and tell him the truth.”
“And she refused!” Axinya exclaimed.
Alexander, the fire in his heart unsubsided, but the temper in his heart also unsubsided, stared at Tatiana. “Why did she refuse, Axinya?”
“She wouldn’t say. But let me tell you, the thought of you coming here for your Dasha was killing us. We could talk about nothing else.”
“Nothing else, Alexander,” Tatiana said. “More drink?”
“Maybe if you had written to me, they would have stopped talking,” he said, less friendly. “And yes, more drink.”
She poured it for him so fast she nearly spilled it.
Alexander’s head was swimming.
“We read all of Dasha’s letters to Anna,” said Naira. “The way that girl raved about you.” She shook her head. “You were her shining knight, you know.”
He finished his glass of vodka in two swallows.
“Tania, we told you to write to him!” Dusia exclaimed. “But our Tania can be very stubborn sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Alexander took the glass from Tatiana and finished her vodka, too.
Dusia crossed herself. “I said, you can do it, you can write that letter. But she said no. Not even with God’s help she couldn’t.” She looked at Tatiana with disapproving eyes. “Alexander, we were hoping maybe God would spare you pain and let you die at the front.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows. “You were hoping I would die at the front?”
“Tania and I prayed for your soul every day,” said Dusia. “We didn’t want you to suffer.”
“Thank you, I think,” Alexander said. “Tania, were you praying for my death every day?”
“Of course not, Alexander,” she replied quietly, unable to be cold, unable to be insi
ncere, unable to lie, or to look at him, or to touch him. Unable. Whatever sat inside her rendered her unable to deal with him. He looked around the crowded table.
“Oh, Alexander!” exclaimed Axinya. “That was some letter you wrote to Dasha. You’re a poet. It was so full of love! When we read that nothing was going to stop you from coming and marrying her this summer, you just about broke our hearts.”
“Yes, Alexander,” said Tatiana. “Remember that poetic letter?”
Suddenly when he looked into her face—
He studied her. He was starting to lose focus in his brain. “Yes,” he said. He had written that letter wanting to reassure Dasha. He didn’t want Tatiana to face her sister by herself. “Should’ve written back, Tania,” he said with reproach. “And told me about Dasha.”
Bolting up, Tatiana started clearing the table.
“Never mind,” Alexander said with a shrug. “Perhaps Tania was too busy? Who’s got time to write nowadays? Especially during village life. There are sewing circles, there is cooking—”
She grabbed his plate. “How was your dinner, Alexander?” she asked. “Did you enjoy it?”
Too many things to say.
Nowhere to say them.
Just like before.
“Yes, thank you. More drink?”
“No,” she snapped. “No, thank you.”
Vova asked, “Alexander, so now what are you going to do? Are you going back?”
Another sharp intake of breath from Tatiana. Alexander held his own breath for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“You stay as long as you like,” declared Naira. “We love you like family. You might as well already be Dasha’s husband, that’s how we feel about you.”
“But he is not,” said Zoe adamantly and flirtatiously, placing her hand on Alexander’s arm and smiling. “Don’t worry, Alexander. We’ll cheer you up around here. How long is your furlough?”
“A month.”
“Zoe,” said Tatiana, “how is your good friend Stepan? Are you seeing him later tonight?”
Zoe took her arm away from Alexander, who, smiling and amused, glanced at Tatiana. So she is not entirely oblivious to Zoe, he thought.
The Bronze Horseman Page 52