Daughters of the Resistance

by Lana Kortchik

  ‘If we had anything to eat, we wouldn’t waste it on a traitor like you,’ said Danilo.

  ‘I might have joined the Nazis but I’ve never killed anyone. I’m not a killer. Please, don’t hurt me. I’ve never harmed a living soul.’

  ‘You were captured with a machine gun in your hands, ready to fire at us. And you would, given half a chance.’ Turning to Alex and Sergei, Danilo added, ‘I told you what to do. Tie him to a tree and shoot him.’

  The two men steered the traitor towards a tree, looking as pale and shaken as he did. The prisoner resisted, shouting, ‘I’ve worked for the Germans for a long time. They trust me. I can help you.’

  Azamat hesitated. ‘If what he says is true,’ he said to Danilo softly, ‘he could be very useful to us.’

  ‘And you trust him?’

  ‘He would do anything to save his skin.’

  They brought the man into the cafeteria and gave him a raw potato. Gratefully, he grasped it, shoving it into his mouth like he hadn’t seen food in months. He didn’t stop talking the whole time. ‘My name is Matvei. You must think I’m a terrible person for turning my back on my people but I’m not. Weak, yes, a coward, yes. I was afraid, you see. You don’t joke around with the Germans. I’m young, I have a family. I don’t want to die.’

  ‘Why didn’t you join the partisans?’ asked Maxim.

  ‘I’m not cut out for combat. I’m not brave.’

  Pointing at Lisa and Masha, Azamat said, ‘Look, traitor, our girls are eager to go out and fight. They learn how to shoot, they are not afraid to join us. And you …’ He shook his head in disgust.

  ‘I will help you. You’ll see. Please, don’t kill me,’ repeated the man.

  As Lisa lay awake that night, all she could think of was the man’s face with his tiny eyes and square mouth pleading for his life. Matvei was a Soviet man, just like everyone at the battalion. And yet, he was not like the rest of them. Shivering in her underground bed, waiting for much-needed sleep to come, Lisa had never felt so helpless. What was the point in what the partisans were doing if the people they were trying to protect, people like Matvei, chose to turn their backs on their country and betray them?

  Chapter 12

  At work that morning, as she listened to a husband whose wife was killed in front of him for selling some eggs outside their front door, Irina felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, as if a dozen needles were piercing her insides. On shaking legs, she staggered to the bathroom. When she got there, she leant on the wall and tried to catch her breath. Looking down at her white skirt, she saw blood. The loud German voices outside and the distant humming of aeroplanes subsided. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears. Was she losing the baby? ‘Please God, no,’ she whispered, sliding to the floor.

  *

  She didn’t remember how she had left work or made it to Tamara’s house but there she was, in her friend’s bed, curled up under a threadbare blanket, howling in agony, still bleeding. Tamara nursed her like a child, rocked her head in her lap, spoon-fed her soup and wiped her tears away. At first Irina couldn’t speak, mutely staring into space with vacant eyes. Tired and spent, she felt numb inside, and only her heart was a pulsing ball of pain inside her chest.

  Tamara sent Dmitry to Zina to tell her what had happened and to ask her to look after Sonya. Hours later, when Irina could speak again, in a hoarse, alien voice she said, ‘I wanted this baby so much. It was to be our salvation. A sign from God that He hasn’t forgotten us.’ She thought she had run out of tears but they came to her now and she cried silently.

  ‘Sh-sh-sh,’ whispered Tamara, stroking her hair.

  ‘It’s all my fault.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. How is it your fault? These things happen.’

  ‘I was supposed to keep this baby safe. And I didn’t. How will I tell Maxim?’

  ‘Maxim would never blame you for something like this. Besides, how do you know you’ve lost the baby? Some bleeding is normal during pregnancy. Maybe you should see a doctor.’

  ‘Some bleeding, yes. But not like this.’ How could she explain to her well-meaning friend that she felt hollow inside? She knew in her heart that her baby was gone. ‘I feel like there’s darkness all around me. Like there’s no point in anything anymore.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You still have Sonya and she needs you.’

  The thought of her daughter filled her with warmth and the iceberg of grief inside her melted a little. She had to see her, to hold her in her arms, so she could feel like she was still alive, like there was hope. But the thought of facing her mother-in-law made her groan out loud. ‘I can’t go back there. Not after what Zina told me. A few weeks ago she said …’ Irina struggled to get the words out. ‘She said I should get rid of the pregnancy. That it’s not the right time to have a baby.’ Her teeth chattered.

  Tamara widened her eyes and stared at Irina. ‘What kind of person says something like that?’

  ‘She wished my baby harm and now …’ Irina couldn’t continue. ‘I don’t think I could ever look at her again.’

  Tamara’s arms tightened around Irina. ‘You are not going back there. I’m going to get Sonya and the two of you can stay here for as long as you want.’

  Irina had no energy to argue or even to think of Maxim’s reaction when he came home one day and found his wife and daughter gone. She wished she could close her eyes and sleep for a thousand years. She longed for forgetfulness, for oblivion. For the first time in her life, she understood her mother’s actions. Sometimes, simply to go on required more strength than one possessed. What a relief it would be, what a perfect way out, if she could just drift away and not feel and not think.

  But she couldn’t do it to her daughter. She knew only too well how Sonya would feel if her mother deserted her.

  *

  Irina’s life was divided into a series of before and after. She had been so happy once – before she lost her mother, before the Nazis arrived in Kiev, scorching the very earth they walked upon, before Maxim left for the partisan battalion, before she lost her baby. She had been happy and didn’t even know it. How ironic it was that she only realised how lucky she had been when something terrible happened.

  It took everything she had not to stumble under the enormous weight of her loss as she walked to work with Sonya in her arms and sat at her desk all day with her little one balanced in her lap, talking to people, consoling and trying to help. It was easy to lose herself in someone else’s heartache. And there were so many heartaches. She saw people who had lost their loved ones, people who had no means of supporting themselves, who were desperate for a piece of bread to give to their children and those who’d had those children taken away from them. Everyone had a story to tell and each filled Irina with dread, making her own ghosts retreat a little in the face of so much suffering.

  But the ghosts never retreated far enough. For a week, at her friend’s house, Irina would wake up and for a few blissful moments not know where she was or what had happened. And then, sitting up in her makeshift bed on Tamara’s living-room floor, she would remember, and her shoulders would cave and her eyes would dim. Moving slowly as if in a fog, she would kiss her daughter good morning, give her some oats and a little bit of water, read and play with her, the whole time waiting for the oppressive weight to lift, so that she could breathe easier.

  Sometimes Dmitry came to visit in the evenings. He didn’t ask any questions, not even why she wasn’t staying with Zina and Kirill anymore. Irina suspected that Tamara had told him. Could she blame her? If the situation was reversed, she would have told Maxim everything. Irina was grateful to Dmitry for not prying and not looking at her with pity. All he and Tamara talked about was their upcoming wedding. They seemed incapable of keeping their hands off each other. When they sat in the kitchen next to Irina, their cups of tea going cold in front of them, their hands, knees and shoulders touched. But even the sight of the happy couple didn’t penetrate the wall of grief Irina had built around herself. Only Sony
a’s smile could do that. The little girl, who seemed to have grown up so much in the last few weeks, showered her mother with kisses and put her chubby arms around her, as if she could sense her need for affection.

  Every day on the way home, Irina stopped at the little church where she had seen Maxim last. She sat in the spot where she had sat then, closed her eyes and prayed. Frantically she prayed for a ray of light in the sea of darkness. She imagined Maxim’s arms around her and felt a little less alone.

  Day and night, she could hear the distant drone of German aircraft, hovering over Kiev without a reprieve. How she hated them! What were they doing in her city, above Tamara’s house, watching over them as they lived and grieved and tried to forge a normal life? There was no escape from the ominous shapes moving through the bright Ukrainian sky, just like there was no escape from the dark thoughts whirring inside her head.

  One evening, when Dmitry and Tamara had gone out and it was just Irina and Sonya at home, painting on some old newspapers, there was a knock on the door. Irina’s hair was messy. Her hands had red oil paint on them, like blood streaks from her fingers to her elbows. Out of breath, thinking it was her friend coming home early, she opened the door to a grim Maxim standing outside. For a moment when she saw him – tall, unsmiling and imposing – she forgot how to breathe.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked before he even stepped over the threshold. ‘I came home and you weren’t there. Mama told me they hadn’t seen you in a week. They are beside themselves. I didn’t know what to think.’ She didn’t trust her voice, so she motioned him in. ‘What happened?’ he asked quietly, stepping inside.

  She couldn’t take the intensity of his eyes on her. Looking away, she started crying. He dropped his bag on the floor and pulled her to him, while Sonya bounced through the bedroom door, shouting ‘Daddy’.

  Maxim let go of Irina and picked up Sonya, throwing her up in the air, covering her face with kisses. Then he turned back to Irina. ‘Ira, you are scaring me. Is everything all right with the baby?’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, unable to say anymore.

  His face darkened, as if a light had gone out. ‘Please, don’t cry,’ he said, holding her close, tears in his eyes. ‘We’ll have another. We’ll have a dozen. As many as you want. You’ll see.’

  It should have been comforting but wasn’t. Because Irina would never have this baby. She didn’t know how to explain it to him, so she didn’t say anything, nor could she meet his gaze. He led her to the kitchen and made a strong cup of tea for her. In his rucksack he found a radish and some bread. She didn’t touch the food but gave a large chunk of bread to Sonya.

  A few moments passed. ‘When did it happen?’ he asked.

  ‘A week ago, at work.’ She shuddered at the memory of herself on the floor of that bathroom, feeling life seeping out of her.

  ‘You poor girl. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you. I feel so bad. You were here all by yourself. Why didn’t you stay home, so Mama could look after you?’

  A tremor ran through Irina at the thought of Zina. ‘I just needed some time to myself. To think, to be alone.’

  ‘Why would you want to be alone at a time like this?’ He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingertips. ‘My parents are frantic with worry. They don’t understand why you just left. Mama is especially upset. I told her you didn’t mean to offend her.’

  ‘Offend her? I’m sure she understands perfectly well why I had to go,’ exclaimed Irina, a wave of sudden anger making her hands tremble. Zina, whose every word was hurtful and unkind, was offended because Irina no longer wanted to be the target for her cruelty. She took a deep breath. Who cared what Zina thought anyway? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

  Visibly taken aback by the tone of her voice, Maxim let go of her hand. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s cruel to me all the time. Nothing I do is ever good enough for her. She told me I should get rid of the baby. And now he’s gone.’

  ‘You misunderstood. The last thing Mama would have wanted was to hurt you. She was so happy when we told her about the baby.’

  ‘You see her through rose-coloured glasses, always have. As far as you are concerned, she can do no wrong. She’s made my life hell since the day we met. You have to be blind not to see it. Well, I can’t do it anymore. I can’t stay in the same house as her.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Mama’s done nothing but support you. She insisted you live with us …’

  ‘So that she has someone to pick on.’

  He turned away from her, lowered his voice. ‘No, Ira. So that you have a place to stay. You’ve lost both your parents. Why can’t you get along with mine? I know you are hurting. What happened is terrible. But don’t take it out on us.’

  ‘Us! Exactly! It’s always you and her against me. You always take her side.’ Irina was shouting. She was horrified at herself, at the overwhelming anger towards the man she loved more than life itself. But she couldn’t help herself. All the pain and heartache of the past week was bursting out and she was powerless to stop it.

  ‘Against you? No one is against you. Mama took you in. Gave you a roof over your head. Treated you like a daughter. And this is how you repay her.’

  ‘I can’t believe you are raising your voice. When I need your love and support the most, when I feel like my heart is breaking, you are turning away from me because of her.’

  ‘Not because of her. Because of you. Listen to yourself. So much poison inside you. Where did it all come from?’

  She couldn’t believe they were fighting. In all their years together, she had never spoken to Maxim like this. ‘Why don’t you ask your mother? You can’t even imagine what she puts me through every day. And you left me alone with her.’ She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

  ‘Please, don’t cry. You’ll scare Sonya. I’ve never seen you like this before. I don’t understand what’s happening. My parents love you. I love you. Why are you so upset?’

  ‘Yes, you love me and God knows how many others.’

  He looked hurt and confused. Her heart aching, she looked away from him. ‘You’re a man. And men are not to be trusted around a pretty face.’

  ‘I live in the woods with the partisans. What pretty faces are you talking about?’

  She opened her mouth and almost said Lisa’s name out loud but the disappointment on his face stopped her. He looked like he couldn’t believe she would say such a thing at a time like this. She didn’t want to hurt him with her suspicions. They were both already hurt enough.

  ‘Get your things together; we are going home,’ he said.

  She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want to go back, but knew there was little point. He wasn’t going to stay here with her, and she didn’t want to waste any more of the time they had together arguing.

  While she wrote a short note for Tamara; Maxim threw some clothes in a small bag. In silence they walked outside. Irina was carrying Sonya, who had fallen asleep in her arms. Maxim walked so fast down the road, she couldn’t keep up. At first she tried to match his speed, then she slowed down and stopped. When he noticed that she had fallen behind, he came back for her but still didn’t say a word.

  A quiet and dark house greeted them. Maxim’s parents were asleep, thank God. She wouldn’t have to deal with Zina until tomorrow.

  After settling Sonya, Irina got straight into the bed she shared with Maxim and her daughter, and waited for him to join her. When he finally came in an hour later, she held her breath, waiting for his arms around her. Whenever they’d had an argument in the past, they made sure they never went to bed upset. Maxim was not the one to hold a grudge forever or punish her with his silence. And she couldn’t stay angry with him for long.

  He got into bed quietly and turned to the wall. Irina shivered, unable to sleep, unable to bear the space between them. She wondered if he felt sad and lonely like her, if he was waiting for her to touch him and te
ll him how sorry she was. In the dark she felt for him in their bed and placed her hand on his arm. He didn’t stir. Was he pretending to sleep, so he wouldn’t have to talk to her?

  They had mere moments together, snatches of time the war allotted them. Was this how they chose to spend them, silent and turned away from each other? Tomorrow he would leave and it would be weeks before she saw him again. What if today was all they had? What if he walked out the door and never came back and the last words he’d heard from her had been angry and unkind?

  It was all Zina’s fault they were fighting. Everything bad in Irina’s life happened because of Zina. Black hatred spread like mould inside her until there was no other feeling left, until she could think of nothing else. Again and again she went over Zina’s words in her head. The words that hurt like daggers, that stayed with her and continued to cut long after they had been uttered. Irina had a collection of the most hurtful incidents put away safely in her mind to be recalled at will, anytime she wanted to feel sorry for herself.

  Sometimes she heard voices in her head that sounded just like Zina. You are useless. Maxim deserves better. No wonder your father left you. Irina wished she could ignore the voices, but they knew just what to say and how to say it to make her believe. Every time she heard them, she hated Zina a little bit more, for making her doubt herself, for poisoning her with self-loathing.

  She didn’t want life to be ruled by her demons. They robbed her of happiness with her husband, of the joy of motherhood, sucked all the light out until there was nothing but darkness. She didn’t want to hate anyone but she especially didn’t want to hate Zina, her husband’s mother, her daughter’s grandmother. Surely even Zina had redeeming qualities? Irina tried to look at Zina the way a stranger might look at her – objectively. What would someone who didn’t know her see when they met her for the first time? She was a good mother – loving, loyal, indulgent, unselfish and a little obsessive. Maybe that was the problem. Zina hated sharing her son with another woman. She couldn’t accept the fact Maxim had a family of his own, that his allegiance was to someone else, that she no longer came first.