The Silence of Trees

by Valya Dudycz Lupescu

  I shook the rattle and she laughed. I closed my eyes and blew with my breath, bidding her to leave. When I opened my eyes she was gone, and I felt somehow lighter. I crossed myself three times and continued through the other rooms, but I knew that with her departure, my home would return to its happy state.

  When I went back to the kitchen, Robin pinched the candle flames with her fingers and we sat in darkness for a few minutes. I felt myself getting tired as the drama of the last few days took its toll on my body.

  "Now let’s turn on all the lights and open all the windows." Robin instructed. "It is night, but the light of the full moon will help clear away any residual negativity."

  We did as she asked, and then sat huddled in our jackets drinking hot tea in the kitchen for an hour.

  "These stones are for you. Place them in your icon corner along with this pouch." She filled a small bag with the herbs and added a pinch of black pepper and one black stone. "The herbs are angelica and sage; the stone is black tourmaline. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble, but they will help protect you, just in case."

  "Do you have a priest from your church that you trust?"

  It had been a while since I had talked with any of them, but yes, I trusted our pastor, so I nodded.

  "I would call him and ask him to come with holy water to do a proper house blessing."

  I agreed and made a mental note to call first thing in the morning.

  "So what was it?" Katya asked, speaking for the first time since her arrival. "I felt something sweep by us at the end, then the room felt brighter and lighter."

  "Back home, we called it the unquiet dead," I answered. "Spirits, who for many reasons refuse to move on and instead choose to remain here and torment the living."

  "I call them negative entities," Robin said. "They are often attracted to people who are discouraged, afraid, depressed. They feed off guilt, doubt, despair." Robin looked at me. "Have you been feeling particularly sensitive lately?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Prophetic dreams, whispers, visions? I get the sense that there’s been a lot of activity around you lately. Your guides have been sending you messages."

  "My guides?" I asked, thinking of Ana, Liliana, Baba.

  "Yes, spirits who are there to help you in life, like guardian angels. They may be here to teach you, advise you, warn you. Sometimes they were people you knew, sometimes not."

  "Oh, yes." I answered.

  "Well, I hope you’ve been paying attention because they’re all worried about you."

  "I think I’ve gotten the message. How do you know all these things?" I asked Robin, curious about this woman.

  She smiled. "I got my Ph.D. in Comparative Religion, so I’ve studied mythologies and folklore from around the world. I also studied with shamans, wise women, and teachers from many countries. There’s so much to learn, and I’m fascinated by all of it."

  I saw Katya looking at her with admiration. She really cared for this woman, like I loved Ana. Ana would have really enjoyed our conversation. I could just imagine her sitting with us, and for a moment, she was there and winked at me. Then she was gone.

  We talked for a little while and then closed the windows. Katya and Robin got ready to leave. I walked them to the door.

  "I’ll call you tomorrow, Ma." Katya said. "Are you going to be okay?"

  "I am, thank you—for everything." I gave her a hug. Then I hugged Robin. "Thank you, too. I owe you a fabulous home-cooked meal."

  Robin laughed a great big laugh. "You’ve got yourself a deal." She looked serious for a minute. "One last message: Use the ticket. I don’t know what that means, but it’s important."

  I nodded at her and watched them walk down the stairs. I locked up and walked back to the kitchen to look at Andriy’s ticket, which I had tossed in a pile. The show opened in three nights. I went to bed and slept soundly for the first time in over a year.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Three days later, I dressed in my nicest black dress and took a taxi to the theater. I arrived early and found my seat: in the center of the third row. It appeared to be the best seat in the house, and the seats all around me soon filled. The theater was sold out, and every last seat was occupied. I listened to the voices of people around me praising Andriy’s work and expressing their excitement over this latest piece.

  "He’s influenced by Mary Zimmerman, combining mythic qualities with a Slavic twist."

  "But he also draws so much from his war experiences."

  "Have you ever met him? He’s kinda sexy for an old guy. Like Captain Picard."

  "I’ve heard that he’s really sad in person, and he uses theater as his escape."

  "No way. He’s always laughing and smiling."

  "Ah, the sad clown."

  "This play is supposed to be really dark, almost gothic . . ."

  Listening to the anonymous voices, I wondered about Andriy. It was hard to imagine that he was responsible for all these people being here. I had never been to this kind of theatrical production, only school plays in which the kids or grandkids performed. I had seen The Nutcracker once with Zirka and her family, and the kids bought Pavlo and me tickets to see the Ice Capades a few times. But never anything like this.

  The lights dimmed, and I watched a lone soldier in a Red Army uniform appear on stage. Behind him were the shadows of men who had fallen on the battlefield. The soldier spoke:

  "Follow me on a journey into heaven and hell,

  past angels and devils, into the realm of dreams.

  That is where our souls go when we sleep,

  to meet up with our soul mate, to love without abandon,

  without regret. For in the morning we must return

  to life and all its painful illusions."

  The soldier stepped back into the darkness, and his shadow merged with those of the other soldiers. A new shadow stepped forward, a man in a Nazi uniform, who said:

  "Into this realm of mortal men once fell dread angels

  from heaven, driven out by Michael and forced

  to live on earth. The fiercest fell beneath the ground,

  devils already. Others fell into trees and streams,

  homes and bath-houses—spirits content to live

  in peace, with occasional mischief in their hearts.

  Still others, lusty for blood and fear, hid and waited

  to stir the hearts of men to wage wars,

  so they could harvest hatred and feast on flesh."

  As he turned around to view the still life of the battle, we saw a small tail poking out from his uniform, a sign that he was not quite human. The Nazi walked off stage as the light gradually illuminated the battle scene on stage, which sprang to life with our young warrior among the other soldiers.

  The youthful soldier from the Soviet army, whose name was Petro, fought with fervor but lost everyone in his platoon. He realized that he was the only one left alive just as some nonhuman shapes and cries began to crawl onto the battlefield. Petro hid among the corpses and watched as the bodies of both sides were devoured by creatures of darkness: vampires and werewolves. As the sun came up, the creatures sank back into the earth. Petro ran toward the bunker and reported on the battle to his superiors. He did not tell them about the creatures. His reward for surviving was assignment to another squad, where he witnessed even more atrocities.

  Each night, he and the other soldiers wept silently into their pillows. Each night, we traveled with Petro into the land of dreams, where he met and talked with his mother. He also saw another woman, a beautiful young woman who shared the room with his mother and sung a lullaby every night. Petro fell in love with her; she gave him hope, when all around him was death.

  Meanwhile, far away from the soldiers, his mother and the woman, whose name was Vira, were living in a women’s prison camp. Each day, all the women were chained together and forced to cut down trees with small axes. The wood was used by men in a men’s prison camp to build a large fence around
both camps. At night, the trees would grow back again, under the spell of the chaklun, an evil wizard.

  Dressed in Nazi garb, the chaklun strolled through the forest of dead trees each night, his small tail poking out of his uniform. Each night, he sprinkled the blood of a sacrificed maiden onto the land so the trees would grow back. A woman had to die so the trees would live again. Each morning, the surviving women would cut down the same trees. If a woman tried to leave, she became the next sacrifice. If none tried to escape, the chaklun chose a woman at random.

  American soldiers came to liberate the camps, and the chaklun hid among the male prisoners. He saw the beautiful Vira and wanted her for his own. The chaklun cast a spell on her so Vira would be devoted to him and return to his barracks each night. While she lay sleeping, he would drink her blood to keep her weak and under his spell.

  Eventually, Petro found his mother and came to the liberated camp to bring her home. He arrived at night and saw the beautiful Vira weeping in a garden. He told her that he loved her and dreamed about her, that she had given him hope when he had nothing to live for. He begged Vira to leave with him and his mother. He told her that he would care for her always, expecting nothing from her in return. She had already given him the greatest gifts: hope and faith. In fact, Vira meant "faith" in Ukrainian.

  Vira knew that she was under the chaklun’s spell, but she couldn’t free herself. She tearfully told Petro to leave for his own safety because she had to return to the chaklun. But Petro would not leave her. He followed her and watched as the chaklun drank her blood and chanted over her sleeping body. Petro begged his mother for her precious silver cross. The mother protested at first, afraid to be without its protection, but eventually agreed. Petro then melted down the cross into a bullet.

  The next night, Petro followed the chaklun into the forest, where he saw the evil one enter a glowing yellow circle that appeared on the ground. Engrossed in his chanting, the chaklun didn’t notice Petro’s approach. Only the hoot of an owl, his guardian, alerted him to danger. The chaklun opened his eyes, saw Petro approaching, he turned himself into a bear, and lunged at Petro. Knocked to the ground Petro lost his gun in the brush.

  Meanwhile, Petro’s mother ran out of the forest with a silver knife and charged the bear, ready to save her son at any cost. The bear killed her with one sweep of his powerful paw. Then we heard a shot and saw Vira standing with a smoking gun in her hands. The bear, which had been shot to death, turned back into a man.

  Petro came to his senses and quickly cut off the chaklun’s head. The couple buried him with a silver thunderbolt and a wooden cross to keep him from becoming one of the unquiet dead.

  The play ended with Vira and Petro embracing and walking into the sunrise. In the distance, we heard the hooting of an owl.

  Petro’s Mama spoke the final verse of the play:

  "Though pain and vice roam this world,

  the soul seeks its partner above all else,

  if only in dreams. The souls will join

  to celebrate their ageless love.

  In life, illusions may keep us imprisoned

  and unwilling to change. In dreams,

  the truth strips us bare and innocent,

  Our lullaby: the sound of two hearts

  beating in harmony."

  The applause kept coming in waves as the curtains closed. The actors came back on stage, and eventually Andriy came out to take a bow. Everyone jumped to their feet to honor him for his work. I tried to see in him the man I had once met. He did seem to stare right at me and nod. I wasn’t sure how to react.

  As everyone left the stage and the spectators began filing out of the theater, I sat back in my seat. Everywhere around me, I heard critiques of the play.

  "The sets were gorgeous. I love how the lighting engineer used light to evoke the mood."

  "The music was excellent. It really captured the angst of the characters. Even the trees seemed to cry out. That violin was haunting."

  "Polotsky did it again. What a commentary on the human condition, using characters from folklore to amplify the inhumanity of war."

  I thought the play was beautiful, but I didn’t understand all the nuances to which these people were referring. I was also a little upset that Andriy had chosen to use our encounter as the cornerstone of his play. Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned the baby; that would have been unforgivable. Even so, his portrayal of Pavlo as a chaklun was harsh. Is that how he saw us? Saw me? Why did he send me a ticket?

  Soon I was the only one left sitting in the theater. I half expected Andriy to emerge from the stage and was a little disappointed when he didn’t. After all, I had made the trip downtown to see his play. All dressed up with nowhere to go, I thought to myself. It had been so long since I went out and it seemed a shame to go home so early in the night.

  Someone sat down behind me. I assumed one of the ushers had come to tell me that I had to leave.

  "I’m sorry, I was just—" I turned around and stopped when I saw it was Andriy. I could finally see what he looked like nearly six decades later. He was handsome: old age clearly suited him. His thick hair had turned grey, but his eyes still had the same intensity. He put out his hand, and I gave him mine, which he kissed. Something in me stirred, and the warmth in my body traveled up to my cheeks.

  "I am so happy that you came, Nadya." He spoke each word slowly, carefully, looking deep into my eyes.

  I looked away, "Of course, it was my pleasure. Thank you for the ticket." I played with my purse to avoid looking at him. I was a widow. Was he trying to seduce me? Was he, as the rumors reported, a gigolo? Is that why he invited me?

  "I would love the chance to talk with you and catch up after all these years. Would you like to join me for drinks at the lounge down the street? I have to make an appearance there, but then we can go someplace and have coffee."

  A drink? I felt as if I were watching television. This kind of thing didn’t happen to me. Better that I go home, feed Khvostyk, and curl up with the remote control.

  Bah, it’s time to start living, Ana whispered in my ear.

  "I will," I whispered back.

  "You will? You’ll join me? Wonderful! Let me help you with your coat. My car is waiting outside."

  I didn’t know what to do. I followed him outside to his shiny silver Mercedes. He opened the door like a gentleman, and we drove in silence to the lounge.

  As we pulled up in front, Andriy said, "I’m sorry if we’re not able to talk much here, but I have to stop in to see the cast and crew. I have to thank them for their hard work."

  We entered the Black Hat Lounge, and everyone cheered. I would have been content to stand in a corner somewhere while Andriy mingled, but he was very attentive, holding my elbow and making introductions. So many people were involved in the production. Men in tuxedoes walked around with silver plates offering snacks and drinks. I tried tiny meatballs, little pies, and other foods I couldn’t identify, but they were delicious.

  Andriy led me to the bar. "Are you all right? We’ll leave in a minute. Can I get you a drink?"

  I honestly didn’t know what to order. My most exotic mixed drink was a screwdriver, introduced to me by Ana at a Ukrainian New Year’s dinner dance many years ago.

  "Whatever you’re having," I said, not wanting to sound ignorant or sheltered.

  "You’re in luck because I prefer the so-called girly drinks."

  He ordered two Cosmopolitans, which came in frosty blue glasses with sugar around the rim. Delicious, but strong. I tried to drink slowly, but nervousness made me drink quickly.

  After the drink, I felt more relaxed and looked around the room with awe at the beautiful men and women dressed in sharp suits and sparkling dresses. I felt like I was part of a play. The people I knew didn’t dress like this, drink like this, or talk like this. Tonight was unreal, like something from a movie or a dream.

  "Are you ready to go?" Andriy asked. "I certainly am."

  I nodded, and we said our goodbyes as
we left the party.

  Once we were in his car, Andriy asked, "Where would you like to go next? Do you have a favorite coffee-shop or late-night restaurant?"

  The only place Pavlo ever took me was to Slavko’s Bar or the all-you-can-eat Polish Buffet. The only coffee shop I knew was the one Ana and I used to go to after our shift, but that was years ago. I didn’t even know if it still existed. I would have offered him some tea at my house, but I didn’t want him to misinterpret my intentions. Plus, I wasn’t sure what he’d think of my simple home, after seeing the kind of life he lived and the class of people he worked with.

  "Nadya?" He asked.

  "Sorry, I was just thinking. Honestly, I’m not sure if the diner I know is still open; it’s been years since I’ve gone there."

  "Well, let’s give it a try."

  I directed him to what used to be a highly industrial area but was now filled with converted lofts and new homes. Everything had changed; instead of homeless people, well-dressed couples walked the streets, but Chuck’s 24-Hour Diner was still there and looked largely untouched.

  We drove around looking for parking and luckily found a spot across the street. The temperature had dropped and the wind was biting. We ran across the street to the diner, where there were a few couples and groups even at that hour. Fortunately, we were able to sit in my and Ana’s regular booth. I took it as a good omen.

  "Do you mind if I eat something?" he asked. "I had to skip dinner."

  "Of course I don’t mind."

  "What do you recommend?" he asked, looking at the menu. I thought he might have felt out of place in his tailored suit and shiny shoes, but he looked completely at ease.

  "I usually only ordered coffee." I answered.

  "Is it any good?" he asked. Just then the waitress came by with a pot. We both turned over our cups and she promptly filled them.

  "Not really," I answered after she walked away. I added cream and sugar, but Andriy drank his black.

  "It’s not bad," He said.

  I tasted it and agreed. Chuck must have switched his coffee. Maybe the young diners had more discriminating tastes. I laughed and Andriy smiled, his face lighting up.