by JV Love
"So what's my cousin like?" Igor asked as they descended the stairs.
"Katya? Well, she smells considerably better than you, but other than that you two have a lot in common," Petya said.
"Really?" Igor said excitedly.
"Yes, she has this certain quality about her - just like you - that makes one wish he were somebody else."
* * *
Felix sat up in his bed and took the bandage off his wound to see how it was healing. The skin was still covered with the scaly, dark-red scab, and it looked exactly the same as the last time he'd checked. Disappointed, he put the bandage back on. In his first ever combat experience, he'd been stabbed between the thigh and groin, and not a day went by when he didn't curse the Nazis for his suffering.
He looked at the calendar on his bedroom wall for the fourth time that day, still amazed that it was August 28th already. Nearly the entire month had slipped into yesterday. Where had all the time gone? It seemed like only yesterday he was celebrating his birthday with his friends, but it had been almost ten weeks since then.
Without warning, a wave of pain made its way forcefully from his left leg, through his lower back, past his shoulders, up his neck, and into the base of his skull. He tried not to grit his teeth, to focus instead on the pain and give it a color and a frequency. But the pain was so mixed up with the story about how he was wounded that he couldn't do it. He couldn't stop thinking about how they had tried to kill him. It was war, and he knew the thought was preposterous, but every time the pain from his leg peaked, he experienced that same outrage he'd felt when the Nazis started shooting at him. As the first bullets whizzed by his head on that day in early July, he'd felt such rage he'd wanted to scream, and kill, and set the whole God-damned world on fire.
But he hadn't screamed then, and he wouldn't scream now. The pain pulsated and pounded and his body was one gigantic knot of tension. And then it was over. The pain receded, and he was alone again in his room, the sun shining faintly through the windows, a fly buzzing on the ceiling.
That's how it always was. The throbbing pain from his leg would come on without warning, torture him for ten or twenty seconds, and then dissipate.
He prepared to get out of bed, which was no longer a thoughtless task. His entire left thigh was black and blue and he could only bend his knee with difficulty. To get out of bed, he had to put his right foot under his left leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, and then swing his torso up quickly before too much pressure was put on the knee.
Felix did it all in one swift motion, then limped to the kitchen and retrieved the open newspaper from the table, careful all the while not to wake his napping father. Back in his room, Felix sat on the bed, rested his left leg on a pillow, and started suspiciously scanning the headlines. He marveled at what they said about the war, especially since he knew better.
Before he'd been released from the hospital, Felix started making inquiries about a different position, one that would keep him closer to Katya. Every job seemed to require the individual to do a lot of standing or walking, neither of which Felix could do with his injured leg. If he waited until his leg was healed, he was sure they'd opt instead to send him back to the front where they needed men the most.
Katya had asked her father for help, but he insisted there weren't any positions a one-legged man could do. Katya kept pressuring him until he finally gave in and told her about an army clerical position that was opening. "They'll be interviewing candidates tomorrow," he'd said.
"Can't you just tell them you already have somebody?" Katya asked.
"No, the commanding officer is quite particular and wants to get the person who's the best qualified. He's got some test that each candidate has to do."
"Test? What kind of test?" Katya asked warily.
"Oh, nothing special . . . just a short typing test."
"What?! Father, you know Felix doesn't know how to type!"
"Oh really," he'd said. "I thought he could. Too bad."
When Katya angrily recounted the story to Felix at lunch that day, he was unfazed. He had her borrow Petya's typewriter and then spent twenty hours straight learning how to type. It was grueling and he went the entire time without food or sleep, but he knew what he wanted and nothing could stop him. Out of the six people they interviewed the next morning, Felix had typed the least number of words per minute, but was the only one who hadn't made a single mistake. The commanding officer had been impressed with Felix's meticulousness and selected him for the job.
Typing orders to commanders on the front gave Felix a good picture of how the war was going. While the newspapers weren't necessarily printing lies, they weren't giving citizens a complete picture either. A heroic handful of factory workers holding off an entire German company for two days was a nice story, an inspiring story, but Felix thought it confused people. If the story was an indication of how the war was going, then how was it that Leningraders heard the shelling getting closer and closer every day?
The newspaper accounts certainly didn't match what Dima told him, and Dima had been on the front lines since the beginning of July. Everyone in the city seemed to know the war was going badly. Felix feared that the vague accounts of the losses in the newspapers only heightened the frustration and distrust of all things 'official.'
He set the newspaper down and looked out the window to the east. There was a large apartment building that blocked the view of what lay beyond, but he frequently saw the moon rise from behind the building. It was always a mystical sight. In a few more days, it would be September and the Harvest Moon would return to bathe the city in its peculiar orange tint. When Felix lived in Ukraine, autumn had always been a time for rest and gratefulness - the harvest rush was over, food was plentiful, and people enjoyed the remnants of the summer weather. But here in Leningrad at war, Felix felt nothing but anxiety. He knew all too well what came after the Leningrad autumn - the Leningrad winter.
He had to make sure Katya left the city now. He couldn't bear the thought of her here in the winter if the Germans surrounded the city. It didn't matter how close he was, there was only so much he could do to protect her.
The front door of the apartment creaked open, and Felix listened intently for a sign of who had arrived. Then his father's voice sounded from the hallway, yelling those three words he'd been anxiously awaiting all day, "Felix, Katya's here!"
He hobbled out of bed and made his way to the front door, joy and anticipation crowding out any remaining pain from his leg.
His father was talking to Katya, gesticulating wildly the way he always did when he was excited. He worked so much these days that he rarely ever saw Katya. "Oh you're a sight for sore eyes," his father said to her. "So young! So beautiful!" Felix looked at Katya. She was dressed in a sleeveless silk blouse with black and gold stripes. Her brown hair was short and curled up at the ends. Her long, graceful neck was seducing him already. Sometimes he just couldn't believe that her heart belonged solely to him.
"Father's been working a lot of hours lately," Felix said as he approached her, "staring at beakers and vials for days on end."
"Oh, you can't imagine. Every time the anti-aircraft guns start firing, those dogs howl like there's no tomorrow, and Tolya curses them like an old sailor. But that's besides the point, Felix. Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"
"Without a doubt, father." He kissed Katya on the lips and wrapped his arms around her. "Hello gorgeous," he whispered in her ear.
"I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," his father said and walked down the short narrow hallway back to his room.
Felix took Katya by the hand and led her to his bedroom where they embraced and kissed once more. It was a warm day and Felix swung open the large windows at the foot of his bed. Katya loved to sit in the windowsill and read, draw, or just look out over the city. On a clear day like today, you could see the Neva river and even the Spire of the Admiralty in the Peter and Paul Fortress on the other side.
"How's your leg
?" she asked.
"Much better now that you're here." He kissed her on the cheek, a big grin on his face. He saw her nearly every day, but it didn't make a dent in his affection for her.
"You're so adorable," she said. "Everybody thinks you're so tough and strong, but I know the truth. You're a puppy dog."
"Only for you," he said.
"Is Dima coming by for lunch?" she asked.
Felix nodded. "Yes, he should be here soon."
"You must be excited. You haven't seen him since you were wounded, right?"
"Yes. Did I tell you he was made a commander shortly after that?"
"Our Dima? A commander? I guess it was only a matter of time."
"Yes, apparently the first one was deemed incompetent - I can certainly vouch for that - and then the second one was killed only a week later."
Katya went over to the open windows, propped her arms up on the windowsill, and leaned out to look around. Felix admired the ravishing curves of her body and the smooth, slightly tan skin of her legs. He wished they had more time to be alone together.
"Did you remember to bring yesterday's newspaper?" he asked.
"Yes, I have your precious newspaper," she teased, retrieving it from her bag and handing it to him. "How did you manage to miss yesterday's news?"
"Father gave the paper away before I had a chance to read it."
Katya grabbed a pencil and pad of paper and situated herself, catlike, in the windowsill. She used the pencil and paper to either draw the city's skyline or write poetry, and Felix wondered which it would be today. The sun, which had been behind one cloud after another for the entire day, finally broke free and shined directly on her. Felix wasn't surprised. She had that effect on most people. Why should Mother Nature be an exception?
He set the newspaper aside and wondered how best to bring up the subject of his desire for her to leave the city. He was fairly sure she wouldn't like the idea, but it was something that needed to be talked about. Deciding on the direct approach, he took a deep breath and said, "Katya, I want you to evacuate Leningrad."
She had closed her eyes and now opened them with a start. The pencil and paper fell to the floor.
"I think it's for the best," he continued. "You'll be safer someplace else."
Katya stared at him, then turned and looked out the window. "So you want me to leave too . . .," she said.
Felix heard the "too," but it was slow to sink in that someone else might have already advised her to evacuate. "Well, it seems like the best decision at this point and time," he said.
"I think the 'best decision' is for us to stay together," she said. "I thought you might be of the same opinion."
Felix felt a tightness in his throat and a flush of blood to his face. He knew this wasn't going to be easy.
"I don't want you to leave, I would like you to stay with me," he said. He got up from the bed and limped over to her.
"I'm so sick of this damn war," she said, and buried her face in his chest. "Why are people so stupid? Can't they find any better way to prove who's right than by killing one another?"
Felix disliked anything even approaching an argument with Katya. It was a tremendous struggle for him whenever they didn't agree on something. He felt like crawling inside his shell like a turtle now, but he overcame the urge and took her hand. "What do you think, Katya?" he asked. "What do you want to do?"
"I wanted to stay with you, but now I'm not so sure you want me to."
"Nothing would make me happier," he said, squeezing her hand, "than to spend every day of the rest of my life with you."
"You mean it?"
"Yes," he said, putting his arm around her.
"But if I go," she said, "I may never see you again."
"We can't think that way. We have to trust and believe," he said. "As long as we keep our faith in one another, nothing can come between us, not even this war."
"I do believe," Katya said, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I just want us to be together."
"We need to think about what's best for the future," he said. "It will be painful to be separated in the short term, but it makes the most sense in the long term for you to go live . . ."
"In Moscow," she said, finishing his sentence.
"Sure," Felix said. "Maybe your father could pull some strings and . . ."
"He already has," she interrupted.
Felix remembered the "too" she'd said earlier and then put the pieces together. "Your father has already arranged for you to be evacuated, hasn't he?"
She nodded. "I was going to tell you after lunch," she said. "The train leaves tomorrow at 3:00 p.m.."
"So, the decision's been made already?" Felix felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, but also a sense of relief.
"No, the decision hasn't been made. It's not made until I make it."
Felix looked out the window, past Katya, at the tops of the buildings below them and the thin ivory-white clouds drifting through the sky. "I want you to be safe," he said. "I'm terrified of something happening to you."
"And I'm terrified of something happening to you," she said.
He stretched his arms around her and they squeezed tight against one another. They stayed in that position, neither saying a word, for a long time.
"It won't be for that long, right?" Katya said, breaking the silence. "The unbeatable Red Army is just off to a slow start, that's all," she joked.
Felix looked her in the eyes and smiled. "You agree then?" he asked.
"Da," - yes - she said and kissed him softly on each cheek and then on the lips.
He could hardly bear the thought of her leaving tomorrow. He started to say something several times, but no words came out.
"Felix!" his father's voice rang out again. "Dima's here."
Felix kissed Katya on the top of the head and started to leave to greet his friend.
"Wait," Katya called out.
He stopped and turned back toward her. She was staring at the ring he gave her.
"I don't want . . .." She pulled the ring off her finger and held it in her hand. "I mean this was a promise . . .." She slid the ring back on. "What I want to say is, let's get married tomorrow before I leave. I know we've been making all these plans for our wedding, but let's just the two of us go to the bureau tomorrow morning and get a marriage license."
She raised her head, and for the first time he could recall, the sorrow in her chestnut-brown eyes disappeared completely. As his eyes met hers, he felt again that he held the entire world inside his heart. He whispered, "Konyeshna" - of course - then lingered in the doorway smiling at her, his heart so full he couldn't speak another word.
He made his way to the front door, feeling light. One of his dreams was a step closer to becoming reality. The voice inside congratulated him but also sent a word of caution that it hadn't happened yet.
His father was standing in front of his best friend inquiring about the sling that held Dima's left arm.
"Oh, it's no big deal," Dima said. "The German fascists tried to take me out with their cannons. They got lucky and a piece of shrapnel hit me in the wrist. I'll be back in action soon enough, and then the Nazis will be sorry!" he laughed.
Felix was surprised at how different his friend looked. Though it had only been two months since he last saw him, Felix couldn't help but notice how straight he stood and how hard his body looked under his uniform. He seemed to be all muscle now. Felix had been confined to bed for weeks and had no doubt who would win a pushup contest if they were to attempt one today.
"I see you're limping still," Dima said to Felix.
"Yes, the healing hasn't been so smooth, but it's a hundred times better than just a few days ago. Once I walk for a minute or two, it's okay. It's just when I've been sitting or laying around for a long time that it gets so stiff. In another week or so, I think it'll be healed completely."
They hugged and then Dima patted Felix on the stomach. "I see your mother has fattened you up like a goose," he said gaily.
"Yes, and it seems you're as strong and lean as a tiger," Felix replied. He laughed and slapped Dima on the back.
"Well, they definitely put me to work. Food doesn't seem quite as important when you're in battle. I tended to completely forget about it, and only remember at the end of the day when I was completely exhausted. I would have a few bites and practically fall asleep before I finished my meal."
"Well, I hope you're hungry today," Felix's father said warmly. "I'll go get lunch ready."
"Where is your wonderful wife?" Dima asked Felix's father. "I was hoping for some of her delicious borscht soup."
"A friend of hers called. She heard that a store on Vasilevski Island was selling butter, so the two of them went over there to see if there was any truth to the rumor."
"Yes, I've heard the food situation has gotten quite out of hand," Dima said. "It's all these panic mongers and hoarders that cause so much trouble."
"Yes, some food items are hard to come by, but there's no shortage of rumors!" Felix's father started toward the kitchen. "You're in luck on the borscht," he said over his shoulder. "She knew you were coming and made some beforehand."
"Excellent! Cold, I hope."
"Of course. She never makes hot soup in the summer."
Katya came out and gave Dima a hug and kiss on the cheek. "So how's our commander?"
"A little tired," he said, "but no worse for the wear." He retrieved a small booklet from his pocket and handed it to Katya.
Katya looked it over, thumbing through a few pages. "It's in German."
Dima nodded. "Yes, it's a Leningrad guidebook. I found it in the pocket of a dead Nazi."
Katya handed the booklet to Felix who started looking through it as well. "Why can't they just leave us alone?" she asked. "This war makes no sense to me. The Germans come to our country and bomb our roads and bridges and cities and kill people - old, young, doesn't seem to matter. And for what reason? No matter how many times it's explained to me, I'll never understand it. I mean the Germans are human too."