Tatiana dried off and dressed, brushing her wet hair and leaving it down past her shoulders. She put on a blue print cotton dress she had made; it was thin and sleeveless with a half-open back and a short hemline. When they all came out of the bathhouse, Alexander was waiting for them outside. Tatiana locked her relieved eyes on him for a moment and then, unable to take his expression, looked away.
“There he is!” Naira said. “Where have you been all day?”
Dusia asked, “How are the windows in the house?”
“Windows? What house?” he asked gruffly.
“Vasili Metanov’s house. Tania said you were taking the boards off the windows.”
“Oh,” he said, never taking his darkened eyes off Tatiana. She stood next to Raisa, hoping to hide behind Raisa’s shaking.
“Are you hungry? Have you eaten?” Tatiana asked him in her smallest voice. She couldn’t find a bigger one.
Mutely he shook his head.
They all started walking home. Axinya took Alexander’s arm. Zoe came up close on the other side of him, took his other arm and asked if Alexander wanted to go to the fire.
“No,” he replied, pulling away from Zoe and toward Tatiana, bending down to her and whispering, “What did you do with my things?”
“Hid them,” she whispered back, her heart throbbing. She wanted to put her hand on him, but she was afraid he’d lose his control, and they would have to have it out in front of everyone.
“Tania makes very good fish soup, Alexander,” Naira said. “You like fish soup?”
Dusia piped up, “And her blueberry pie is out of this world. I’m so hungry.”
“Why?” Alexander whispered.
“Why what?” Dusia asked.
“Never mind,” Alexander said, moving away from them all.
When they got home, Tatiana busied herself with setting the table. She looked up on her bed to see if he had read the note and taken the shirt. The note was gone. The shirt remained where she had left it.
Alexander came inside. The four ladies were out on the porch. “Where are my things?” he asked.
“Shura—”
“Stop it,” he snapped. “Give me my things so I can leave.”
“Alexander, can you come here?” Naira stuck her head in. “We need your help opening this bottle of vodka. The cap seems to be stuck.”
He went out on the porch. Tatiana’s hands were trembling as badly as Raisa’s. She dropped one of the dishes. The metal plate made quite a clang when it hit the wooden floor.
Vova arrived. The porch was filled with laughing voices.
Alexander came inside and opened his mouth to speak. Tatiana motioned to the back of him. Vova stood in the doorway. “Tanyusha, do you need help? Can I carry something to the table for you?”
“Yes, Tanyusha,” said Alexander bitingly, “can Vova carry something for you?”
“No, thank you. Can you give me a minute, please?”
“Come on,” said Vova to Alexander, who hadn’t moved. “You heard her. She wants a minute.”
“Yes,” said Alexander, without turning around. “A minute with me.”
Vova reluctantly left the room.
“Where are my things?”
“Shura, why are you leaving?”
“Why? There is no place for me here. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I can’t believe you haven’t packed for me, the way you feel. I don’t need to be told twice, Tania.”
Her lips were trembling. “Stay and have dinner with us.”
“No.”
“Please, Shura,” she said, her voice breaking. “I made you potato pancakes.” She took a step to him.
“No,” he said, blinking.
“You can’t leave. We haven’t finished.”
“Oh, we’ve finished.”
“What can I say to make it better?”
“You’ve said it all very clearly. Now good-bye would be good.”
The food table was between them. Tatiana came around on his side. “Shura,” she said quietly, “please let me touch you.”
“No.” He backed farther away.
Naira stuck her head through the open door. “Is dinner ready?”
“Almost, Naira Mikhailovna,” said Tatiana.
“I thought you weren’t going to leave until you fixed me?” she said faintly. “Fix me, Shura.”
“You told me yourself there isn’t enough of me to fix what’s wrong inside you. Well, you’ve made a believer out of me. Now, where are my things?”
“Shura—”
Coming closer to her, Alexander said through gritted teeth, “What do you want, Tania? You want a scene?”
“No,” she said, trying very hard not to cry.
His face was near her. “A loud, ugly scene like the kind you’re used to?”
“No,” she whispered, not looking at him.
“Just give me my things, and I’ll go quietly, and you won’t have to explain a single word to your friends and your lover.”
When she didn’t move, Alexander said, much louder, “Now!”
Embarrassed and upset, Tatiana led him outside to the shed behind the house, out of everyone’s view.
“Where are you going, Tanechka? Are we going to eat soo—”
“I’ll be right back!” Tatiana yelled, her shoulders shaking. When they were behind the house, Tatiana tried to take hold of Alexander’s hand, but he roughly ripped his arm away from her. She staggered but did not back off. Coming in front of him quickly, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He tried to push her away. “Please don’t go,” she said, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please. I beg you. I don’t want you to go. I waited for you every minute of every day since I left the hospital. Please.” She put her forehead on his chest.
Alexander didn’t say anything. Tatiana didn’t look up. His hands remained on her bare arms.
Holding him tightly, Tatiana said, “God, Alexander! How can you be so thick? Can’t you see why I didn’t write you?”
“Not at all. Why?”
She inhaled his smell, her face still in his chest. “I was so afraid that if I told you about Dasha, you wouldn’t come to Lazarevo at all.” She wished she were braver and could look at him, but she didn’t want to see him be angry with her anymore. Taking his hand, she placed it on her cheek, and when his warmth gave her strength, she looked up at him. “Leningrad nearly finished us all off. I thought that maybe if you didn’t know about her and came anyway, and I got healthy again, like last summer, maybe your feeling for me would come back—”
“Come back?” Alexander said hoarsely. “What are you thinking?” His hand remained on her cheek. His other hand, though, wrapped itself on her bare back, his fingers fanning her, grasping her, and moving on her flesh, pressing him to her. “Can’t you see . . .” he said and broke off. He couldn’t say any more. She felt it. And he didn’t need to. She felt that, too.
At last Alexander spoke. “Tatia, I will earn your forgiveness. I will fix everything. I will do right by you, but you have to let me. You can’t shut me out like this—you just can’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Tatiana said. “Please understand.” She hugged him tighter. “Just too many lies for me, too much doubt.”
“Look at me.”
She lifted her eyes to him.
His arms around her, Alexander said, “Tania, what doubt? I am here only for you.”
“Then please stay,” she said. “Stay for me.”
Breathing hard, Alexander bent his head to her, and she gave him her wet hair to kiss. His lips stayed on her for a few moments, and then he said, “What is this, Lake Ladoga?”
“Shura,” Tatiana said, “there is a houseful of people.”
His fingertips were pressing into her bare shoulder blades so emphatically they were making her feeble.
“Lift your face to me this instant.”
She lifted her face to him that instant.
“Tania, could we eat, please?” Naira’s loud voice fro
m the porch was hungry and irritated. “Everything is burning!”
Alexander kissed her so fiercely that for a moment Tatiana became supported only by his arms around her. Her numb legs could not hold her up.
“What is she doing out there? We’re all starving. Tatiana!”
They heaved themselves away from each other, Tatiana didn’t know how, retrieved his things from the shed, and went inside.
Tatiana poured soup for Alexander first, placing the bowl right in front of him and handing him the spoon. Then she served everyone else while Alexander waited for her to sit down before he took his first bite.
“So, Alexander,” said Vova, “what does a captain in the Red Army do?”
“Well, I don’t know what a captain in the Red Army does. I know what I do.”
“Alexander, do you need some more fish?” Tatiana asked.
“Yes, please.”
“What do you do?” asked Vova.
“Yes, tell us, Alexander,” said Axinya. “The village is dying to know.”
“I’m in heavy weapons, in a destroyer brigade. Do you know what that is?”
Everybody but Tatiana shook their heads.
“I command an armored company of men. We provide extra support for the rifle guards.” Alexander swallowed his soup. “At least, we’re supposed to.”
“What’s extra support?” asked Vova. “Tanks?”
“Tanks, yes. Armored cars. Tania, are there more pancakes? We also operate antiaircraft machine guns called Zeniths, and mortars, and other field artillery. Cannons, howitzers, heavy machine guns. I myself stand behind a Katyusha, a rocket launcher.”
“Impressive,” said Vova. “So it’s the best job. Less dangerous than the rifle frontovik?”
“More dangerous than anything. Who do you think the Germans are trying to knock out of position first—a guy with a slow, bolt-action Nagant or me with a mortar that pummels them with fifteen bombs a minute?”
Tatiana said, “Alexander, you want some more?”
“No, Tatiasha—” He stopped. She stopped. “I’m full, Tania, thank you.”
“Alexander,” said Zoe, “we hear Stalingrad is going to fall.”
“If Stalingrad falls, we lose the war,” said Alexander. “Any more vodka?”
Tatiana poured him a shot.
Dusia said, “Alexander, how many men are we prepared to lose in Stalingrad to stop Hitler?”
“As many as it takes.”
She crossed herself.
Red-faced, Vova said excitedly, “Moscow was quite a bloodbath.”
Tatiana heard Alexander suck in his breath. Oh, no, she thought. No scene, please.
“Vova,” said Alexander, leaning in front of Tatiana—who pressed into his side—to glare at Vova. “Do you know what a bloodbath is? Moscow had 800,000 troops before the battle for the capital started in October. Do you know how many were left when they stopped Hitler? Ninety thousand. Do you know how many men were killed just in the first six months of the war? How many young men were killed before Tania left Leningrad? Four million,” he said loudly. “One of those young men could be you, Vova. So don’t go around calling it a bloodbath, as if it were a game.”
Everyone at the table was quiet. Tatiana, nested into Alexander, said, “You want more to drink?”
“No,” he said. “I’m done.”
“Well, I’ll just go and clear—”
Alexander lowered his arm under the table and placed his hand on Tatiana’s leg, shaking his head ever so slightly and keeping her in place.
Tatiana remained in place. Alexander did not take away his hand. At first her cotton dress was between his hand and her thigh, but Alexander obviously did not like that, because he moved the dress up, just enough to grasp her bare thigh with his bare hand. The aching in her stomach intensified.
Naira said, “Tanechka, aren’t you going to clear up, dear? We can’t wait for your pie. And some tea.”
Alexander’s hand squeezed her a little harder and moved up.
Tatiana clenched her teeth. In exactly one second she was going to moan right at the dinner table, in front of four old women.
Alexander said, “Tatiana cooked wonderfully for us. She’s outdone herself. She’s tired. Why don’t we give her a break. Zoe, Vova—maybe you could clear up?”
Naira said, “But, Alexander, you don’t understand—”
“I understand extremely well.” Alexander’s hold on Tatiana’s leg did not abate.
Tatiana grabbed the edge of the table with her fingers. “Shura, please,” she said hoarsely.
His hand gripped her thigh harder. Her hands gripped the table harder.
“No, Tania,” Alexander said. “No. It’s the very least they can do.” He stared across to Naira. “Don’t you think, Naira Mikhailovna?”
Naira said, “I thought Tanechka enjoyed doing the small things she does.”
Dusia agreed. “Yes. We thought it brought her pleasure.”
Alexander nodded. “Dusia, it does bring her pleasure. Next she’ll be bending down and washing your feet. But don’t you think the disciples need to pour drink for Jesus every once in a while?”
Dusia stammered, “What does Jesus have to do with anything?”
Alexander’s steel grip tightened.
Tatiana opened her mouth and—
“Fine,” snapped Zoe, “we’ll clear up.”
With a gentle pat, Alexander let go of Tatiana’s thigh.
Tatiana breathed out. After a few moments her fingers managed to let go of the table. She not only could not look at Alexander but couldn’t meet anyone else’s eyes either.
“Zoe, Vova, thank you,” said Alexander, grinning at Tatiana, who remained motionless.
“I’m going for a smoke,” he said. Tatiana could not even acknowledge him.
After he left, the old ladies leaned in to Tatiana and lowered their voices. “Tania, he is very aggressive,” said Naira.
Dusia said, “There is no God in the Red Army, that’s the trouble. The war has made him hard, I tell you, hard.”
Axinya said, “Yes, but look how protective he is of our Tanechka. It’s adorable.”
Tatiana looked at them with incomprehension. What were they saying? What were they talking about? What just happened?
“Tania, did you hear us?”
She stood up. Her sole defender in the world, her rifle guard, her battle brigade would have her unqualified support. “Alexander is not hard, Dusia. He is completely right. I should not be doing everything around here.”
They had tea and blueberry pie, which was so good that soon there wasn’t any pie left. After the old women went out for a smoke, Zoe, squeezing Alexander’s arm and smiling coyly, asked once again if he wanted to go to the fire. Alexander took his arm away and said no once again.
Tatiana wanted Zoe to go away.
“Oh, come on,” said Zoe. “Even Tania goes. With Vova,” she added with emphasis.
“Not anymore,” whispered Alexander, looking at Tatiana, who was putting sugar in his tea.
“Tania, tell Alexander that awful joke you told last week. No, it was so awful, we nearly died,” said Vova.
“I thought I’d heard all of Tania’s awful jokes,” said Alexander. There was something so achingly familiar and comforting about sitting pressed against his large arm that Tatiana felt a need to put her head on him. She didn’t.
“Tell him the joke, Tania.”
“I don’t think so.”
Vova tickled Tatiana. “Come on! He is going to die.”
“Vova, stop,” said Tatiana, glancing at Alexander, who intently sipped his tea and said nothing.
“I’m not telling him,” Tatiana said, suddenly embarrassed. She knew that Alexander would not be pleased with the joke. She did not want to displease him—not even for a single stupid moment.
“No, no.” Alexander turned to her and put down his cup. “I love your jokes.” He smiled. “I want to hear.”
Sighing and looking at t
he table, Tatiana said, “Chapayev and Petka are fighting in Spain. Chapayev says to Petka, ‘Why are the people screaming? Who are they welcoming?’ ‘Oh, some Dolores Ebanulli,’ replies Petka. ‘Well, what’s she yelling?’ asks Chapayev. Petka replies, ‘She yells, “It’s better to do it on your feet than on your knees.” ‘ “
Vova and Zoe roared with laughter.
Alexander sat stonily, tapping on his teacup. “These are the kinds of jokes you now tell at the fire on Saturday nights?”
Tatiana didn’t reply and didn’t look at him. She knew he wouldn’t like that joke.
Vova shoved her lightly. “Tania, we’re going tonight, aren’t we?”
“No, Vova, not tonight.”
“What do you mean? We always go.”
Before Tatiana had a chance to say anything, Alexander, with his hands still around his teacup, looked at Vova and said, “She said not tonight. How many more times will she have to say it before you hear it? Zoe, how many more times will I have to say it before you hear it?”
Vova and Zoe stared at Alexander and at Tatiana.
“What’s going on?” Vova said in a confused voice.
“Go on,” Alexander said. “Both of you. Go to your fire. But quick.”
Vova opened his mouth to speak, but Alexander stood up from the table, leveled a look at Vova, and said calmly and slowly, “I said go on,” in a voice that invited no argument. He got none. Vova and Zoe left.
Tatiana shook her head in amazement, staring at the table. Alexander bent to her, saying huskily, “Like that?” And kissed her on the head and went out to smoke.
After laying out her bedding on the porch, Tatiana helped the old ladies into bed. When she was done, Alexander was still sitting on the bench outside the house. The crickets were noisy tonight. Tatiana could hear the distant howl of a coyote, the murmuring hoot of an owl. She went to wash the dessert dishes.
“Tania, will you stop fussing and come here.”
Her hands still wet, she nervously stepped up to him. The relentless throbbing in the pit of her stomach would not subside, not for dinner or the dishes, not for the old women or the laundry, not for anything.
“Closer,” Alexander said, watching her for a few seconds. He dropped his cigarette on the ground and put his hands on her hips, bringing her between his open legs.
The Bronze Horseman Page 56