by Kelli Stuart
“I promise,” he says gently, “that the doctors there will take excellent care of you. I will speak with them myself, and as soon as I finish seeing the patients on my schedule, I’ll meet you there so that I can tell you exactly what they’re doing. Okay?”
“I can be there, too, Mama,” Nina says. “I took the rest of the day off work today, so I can stay. I want to help you.” Nina wishes she didn’t sound so childish. It makes her feel foolish. Elizaveta narrows her eyes at her daughter, and then returns her gaze to Viktor. She takes a deep breath and pulls her hand from his.
“Fine,” she sniffs. “I’ll go to the hospital for these tests, but I will not stay any longer than is absolutely necessary. Understood?”
Viktor nods and smiles, “I would not expect it,” he says. He reaches for his notepad and scribbles out a series of notes, handing them to Nina.
“Take these with you. I’ll call them now and ask them to have a room prepared for her when you arrive, okay?”
Nina purses her lips and nods her head, overwhelmed by the confliction of her mother’s hostility mingled with Viktor’s kindness.
“Spasibo,” she says, her voice trembling. Viktor nods. As she takes the slip of paper from his hand, his fingers linger on hers for a brief moment. A tremor runs up her spine.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “We’ll figure out what’s going on.”
Nina nods. Together they turn to Elizaveta, who looks back and forth between the two of them, blinking slowly. She studies Viktor for a lingering moment, and then turns her eyes to Nina.
“You need to marry this man,” she says, and Nina’s face grows instantly hot.
“Mama!” she exclaims.
“Do not ‘Mama!’ me,” Elizaveta replies. She pulls her handbag up, tucking it into the crook of her elbow and turns to open the door. Looking back, she offers her daughter a pointed look. “He is the man you and I have been waiting for.”
Nina offers Viktor an embarrassed smile and ducks her head. Elizaveta shuffles out the door and the two are left momentarily alone.
“Sorry about that,” Nina stammers, switching back to English. Somehow she feels better able to mask her embarrassment behind the syllables of her American language.
Viktor grins, amusement dancing through his eyes. “Don’t be sorry,” he says with a smile. “She is like every Russian grandmother I have ever met in my life, and I’m starting to love her for it.”
Nina blinks and clears her throat awkwardly. “So...um...I will see you later? At the hospital?”
Viktor nods, and she turns to leave. Nina catches Elizaveta’s eye across the room and bites her lip. She can sense her mother’s approval, and doesn’t quite know how to feel about it. She watches as Elizaveta tries to push open the door of the clinic, and the image immediately sobers her. Her mother, the formidable woman who raised her, the one made of iron, unshakable and strong, is now old, frail, and unable to leave on her own.
Annie
Annie stands on the curb and holds her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the glaring sunlight. The sidewalk hums around her with kinetic energy, everyone buzzing in anticipation of the upcoming homecoming dance. Annie catches snippets of their conversation, all of it swirling around her in a haze, reminding her of just how different she is—how separate from the rest of the world.
“You okay?”
Her shoulders tense when he steps up beside her. Taking a shallow breath, she shrugs before answering.
“Fine,” she mumbles. She feels him looking at her, but can’t bring herself to return his gaze.
“Sorry again,” James says quietly. He steps in front of her, blocking the piercing sun so that she can lower her hand. Her arms hang awkwardly by her side.
“It’s no big deal,” Annie responds. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. It’s just...” she stops and swallows, a lump suddenly making it a little harder to form the words. She sighs before finishing quietly. “I’m not quite myself right now.”
James cocks his head to the side slightly and gives her a crooked smile. “Well, fine,” he says. “I’m glad to know that you don’t really have it all together. I was starting to think you were a robot.” He grins, and Annie smiles back, her mouth turning up involuntarily. It’s a relief, this natural emotion. The smile feels so comfortable, like a breeze blowing through on a hot, summer day.
“I’m not a robot,” she says, a hint of amusement dancing through her words. James nods and puts his hands in his pockets.
“Well, good,” he says. “Then we can still be friends.”
Annie chuckles, and James smiles back at her, rocking back on his heels. He clears his throat and glances up at the sky.
“So...” he begins, his voice cracking. “Um...are you...I mean...were you, or I guess would you like to go with me to Home—“
Annie hears the putter of the car engine before she sees it, the familiar rumble thickening the air around her. She glances to her right and sees Toby’s car sweep around the corner. She looks back at James with wide, apologetic eyes. He glances at Toby’s car, and then back at her.
“Oh...” he says. He clears his throat, his face flushed. Stepping back, he moves away from the curb just as Toby pulls up in front of Annie. Toby gazes up at her through the window.
“Hey,” he says. There’s a grit to his voice. He glances at James, and then back at Annie, suspicion shadowing his face.
Annie steps forward and grabs the handle of the door, pulling it open and sliding into the seat in one, quick move. She glances back out the window at James who stands slumped and dejected. Raising her hand, she offers a half-hearted goodbye. He nods his head, then turns and disappears into the throng of students still milling around the pick up line.
Annie leans her head back and takes in a deep breath.
“Who’s that?” Toby asks. He shifts the car, moving it from 1st to 2nd gear with a loud grind. Annie shrugs her shoulders.
“Just a guy I know,” she offers, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice light. “He’s helping me in lit class. Some of these books we’re reading are crazy.”
Annie leans forward and unzips her backpack. Her hands tremble as she reaches in and grabs the newest literature book. “Have you read this?” she asks him, hoping that this change in subject will be enough to diffuse the tension in the air.
He grabs the book with a sigh and holds it up, shifting his eyes back and forth between the road and the cover.
“Of Mice and Men,” he reads. He hands it back to her. “Yeah, I read that in high school. Didn’t get it. All I remember is that there’s some big buffoon of a guy who kills a puppy, and then gets offed by his friend. Total downer.”
Annie looks down at the book, running her hand over the outside. She thinks of the conversation she had with James last week when they discussed this upcoming book. “You’ll love it,” he’d said. “It’s short, but there’s so much meat to the story. It’s thematically rich.”
She drops the book back in her bag and turns to Toby with a strained smile. “Oh,” she cracks, her voice thin. “Well, I guess it’s good that it’s a short book then, huh?”
Toby shrugs, and the two of them fall silent. Annie glances out the window and watches the landscape roll by. Her mind drifts to the days of her youth when she and her mom would escape to the mountains for long weekends, renting a cabin and spending entire days exploring the magic of the trees. They’d run uphill until their lungs felt like they’d burst, then find a log to sit on, both of them heaving and laughing at one another.
It was in the forest that her mother had spoken most freely and intimately, offering Annie a glimpse into her heart that she didn’t normally see in the day-to-day grind of every day life. It was as though the mountains held her mother’s whispered secrets, the bits of her past that she normally locked away, and she was free to share those secrets only beneath the protection of the trees’ canopy. Annie closes her eyes and remembers the last trip they took together to the
mountains. They’d spent the morning cutting their way through the fog, the cool, early spring air sweet and fresh after a frigid winter. They’d stepped carefully on the backs of rocks, tiptoeing across slick creek beds to explore new and unseen corners of the forest. As the final moisture burned from the air, Nina had Annie sit beside her at the crest of a hill and the two of them watched as the sky faded from grey to crystal blue.
“Your grandmother is moving to America,” Nina had said that morning. Something about the way she said it, the doubt and strain in her voice, made Annie’s heart constrict.
“She’ll be coming to live with us,” Nina said. Annie had turned and looked up at her mother, their eyes locking for a moment, and Annie knew immediately that this was going to change everything. All they’d known, everything they had enjoyed, would be different now that the grandmother she barely knew was coming to stay. Annie had heard stories of her grandmother, and she’d spoken with her on the phone. This was not welcome news.
That was the last time Annie and her mother had gone to the woods. When Babushka moved in, everything changed, and even now as she watches the trees move in and out of view through the changing landscape, Annie feels the weight of that overwhelming loss.
Toby rolls to a stop at a stop sign and glances at Annie out of the corner of his eye.
“So...” he begins. He clears his throat nervously.
“Did you, like, decide what you’re gonna...do...about the, um...” he glances at her stomach, then back up at her, his eyes distant. “The situation?” he finishes.
Annie swallows hard, her hand running self-consciously over her stomach. “No, not yet,” she answers.
“Have you even thought about it?” Toby asks. Annie bristles at the edge in his voice.
“Yes, Toby,” she snaps. “I’ve thought about it. In fact, it’s pretty much all that I think about all the time.” She blinks back tears and turns her face away from him. Toby sighs in frustration.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m sorry, alright?” Annie turns back and stares at him incredulously. “I’m just freaking out a little, Annie. You know? I’m not exactly ready for this.”
“Right,” she snaps, blinking hard. “And I am?” She draws in a trembling breath.
Toby shoves his foot down on the gas, peeling away from the stop sign and across the quiet intersection. “So if neither of us are ready, then why don’t you just...you know...end it? I’ll go with you.” He jerks the wheel to the right, taking the next corner a little tighter than usual.
“Will you slow down, please?” Annie asks, glancing out at the curved road ahead of them.
Toby pulls his foot off the pedal slightly and steals a glance at her from the corner of his eye. “So did you hear what I said or what?” he asks.
“Yeah, Toby, I heard you,” Annie responds. Her heart pounds as the gravel beneath Toby’s tires flips behind them, knocking against the bottom of the car.
“Toby, slow down!” Annie cries again, her voice raising to a yell. Toby lets out a growl of frustration and slams on the brake, yanking the wheel hard so that they skid to a stop on the side of the road. He turns to look at her, his eyes wild, fear dancing across his normally handsome features. Annie draws in short, shallow breaths. She shifts in her seat so that she is looking directly into his eyes.
“Toby,” she starts, forcing her voice to stay calm despite the continued pounding in her chest. The tears are dry now.
“I don’t expect you to be ready for this. Let’s face it, you and I both know I’m alone. This is my problem, not yours. So I’ll figure it out, okay?”
“What, so I don’t get a say in the matter?” he spits back at her.
Annie shrugs. “Do you have an opinion?” she asks.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again, his shoulders slumping.
“It’s just...” Annie stops. She reaches out and puts her hand on Toby’s wrist, squeezing it tight. “I can’t do...that, Toby,” she says. Her voice is quiet but firm. “I can’t end it. I just can’t. I’ve thought about it. I’ve done the research. But, I can’t do it.” The pitch of her voice raises and Toby pulls back.
“So then what?” Toby asks. His voice is softer now, but there’s still an edge to his words that pricks at Annie. “What’re you gonna do?”
Annie shrugs. “I don’t know yet,” she replies.
“Yeah, well, listen Annie. I am barely making ends meet right now, okay? I can hardly pay my own rent. There’s no way I can support you and a kid.”
Annie glares at him. “I get that, Toby. That’s why I told you you’re off the hook. This is my deal. I’ll figure it out, okay?”
“Whatever,” Toby mumbles. He grabs the stick and shifts the car into gear, pushing his foot down on the gas and peeling out onto the street. He doesn’t see the car coming around the bend, and by the time he registers the sound of the horn, it’s too late.
The last thing Annie hears is metal grinding and a scream filling in the empty space above her head.
Elizaveta
I am haunted, and I deserve it.
I sit in the stiff bed, back rigid, face pressed into a stubborn, hardened stare. Blinking hard, I fight against the smell that haunts me more than anything else. Death has a very telling odor, the draining of life settling in the air, suffocating the senses. It’s a smell that never quite escapes the consciousness, and even now all these years later, the memory of it sends a wave of nausea over me. Fear tickles the back of my spine. Death is coming for me. I know it, and I’m not yet ready.
The doctors poked and prodded for far too long, asking questions that didn’t make sense even after Nina translated them. I cannot relax until Viktor Shevchenko arrives. As soon as he steps into the room, I feel myself settle into the pillow.
“Good,” I bark as he steps to my bedside. “I’m glad you’re here. I think it is time for me to go home. These doctors, if they really are doctors, don’t believe anything I say. They think I’m just a crazy old woman. Tell them I am done. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
Nina looks at Viktor and he nods. “Okay, Elizaveta Andreyevna,” he says gently. “I’ll go talk with the doctor on shift and see what he says. If he’s satisfied, I will ask him to be finished for the day, okay?”
I nod at him with one, slight move of my head. He gives Nina a small smile then leaves the room, the door slowly closing behind him.
“Mama.” Nina’s voice cuts through the air, slicing the silence and causing my heart to skip a beat. I shift my eyes to her, willing them to focus on her face. Blinking hard, Nina takes a few steps forward. I lean back on the thick pillow and pull the scratchy hospital sheet up a little higher.
“Mama, who is Dima?”
This is the only question left, and Nina waited until we were alone to ask it. I glance at the door, willing it to open. Of course, now those annoying young doctors choose to give me space, no one charging through the door trailing his long, white coat behind him on the wings of his own pride. The door remains shut, confining me inside with nothing but my lies to protect me, thin veil that they have become. The stories shimmer like a mirage, softening a bit as if beckoning me to tear the sheet away and reveal the truth.
Nina sits down on the edge of the bed, and I jump at the movement. I shift my eyes back to Nina’s face. She stares back at me, bright, a longing for answers swimming in the center. I open my mouth to speak, then close it again.
“Mama,” she repeats. Nina reaches out her hand and rests it lightly on the sheet that covers my leg. Her touch feels cold. I jerk my leg away.
“Who is Dima?” she asks again, pulling her hands back and clasping them together in her lap.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I answer. The lie feels bitter on my tongue, sharp and painful. Nina looks at me for a long moment before pushing herself up off the bed. She picks up her purse and sweater, tucking them into the crook of her elbow.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say, breaking the silence between us. I
blink hard at the pain running through Nina’s eyes.
Nina reaches down and puts her hand under my elbow, steadying me as I stand to my feet. “Your clothes are hanging up on the back of the door,” she says quietly. “Do you need me to help you dress?”
I lift my chin and shake my head no, then turn to shuffle into the bathroom leaving my daughter behind. I close the door, placing a barrier between myself and her questions, and I turn to look in the mirror.
My hair stands in wild tufts around my head, bright silver shoots reaching out as if trying to escape. I turn on the sink and wet my hands, smoothing the renegade hair back into place. Standing up, I blot my face dry with a small towel and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I gaze into the eyes of an old woman. They’re bloodshot and buried in wrinkles. Turning my head from side to side, I study myself closely. Once, not so long ago it seems, I was a pretty woman. Not beautiful, but pretty enough with large, brown eyes and delicate features. My lips had been naturally pink, and my thick hair had been my crown. But time has a way of fading more than just memories.
As I stare at my reflection, the image before me swims until I no longer see my own face, but that of my mother. Her face is smooth, not confined by the weathered signs of a history of lies. As I take in the peculiar sight, the air behind me shimmers. I blink, and when my eyes open my sister is standing behind me. I clasp my hand over my heart and whirl around, coming face to face with Tanya. She’s exactly as she was the last time we saw one another so many years ago. Tanya looks hard at me, accusing and angry.
“Tell the truth,” she says. Her voice sounds like the wind, the words blowing into my ears and whistling through my soul. “Stop lying.”
My hands tremble as I try to form words in reply. This isn’t real. It cannot be real. But it feels so very real. Tanya glares at me.
“Say it!” she yells. “Say it now, out loud. Who is Dima? SAY IT! You owe it to him to say it out loud!”