Milana didn’t often allow herself to think of Alikhan’s real father, but she couldn’t help it, here, watching the dancing. After all, it had been in a dance group just like this that she’d first met Azamat.
Azamat.
She didn’t allow herself to think that name.
Azamat.
Something inside of her tightened. Was it guilt stabbing her heart again? Azamat should be here, clapping his son, being proud of him too. But he wasn’t, and that was all her doing. She’d made him promise to stay away, to never see his child or try to contact him.
How many times in the years gone by had she wondered if she’d done the right thing? Did Alikhan have a right to know who his real father was? Should she tell him? No, that would be silly. They hadn’t seen each other in years. He’d probably moved on. Maybe he was married with his own children by now. She pushed her thoughts down and focussed her attention back on the stage. They would be announcing the winner soon.
2
The mountains will be overturned,
the cliffs will crumble
and every wall will fall to the ground.
Ezekiel 38:20
Chapter 8
Bela
“Are you okay, honey?” Michael’s concerned voice floated through the door of the bathroom from the hallway outside. “You’ve been in there quite a while.”
“Have I? Sorry, just daydreaming.” Bela quickly flushed the toilet. She watched the water swirl down the drain and made sure all trace of the red blood had swirled down with it. Another month. Another disappointment. She’d felt different this month. She could have sworn she’d had a bit of nausea, could have sworn there was a slight swelling in her belly. Her period had been two days late, and she’d even considered going to get a pregnancy test from the apteka. She’d allowed herself to start hoping, but now all her hopes had come crashing down. Again.
Why, God, why? Why are you doing this to us? I don’t understand. I thought you were kind and loving and good, but now I’m beginning to think you’re cruel and malicious and that you don’t care.
She choked back a sob. Michael would be hovering around somewhere, and she didn’t want him to know how upset she was; how this trial was affecting her faith. His faith was so strong, she didn’t want to rock his boat too. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Hey?” Michael was still there.
“Hey.” She focussed her eyes down on the mottled piece of carpet that ran the length of the hallway. “Not pregnant.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” He enveloped her in a deep hug. She appreciated his effort, but right now she just wanted to be by herself. She stood there for a few seconds, tense and rigid in his strong arms, and then pushed herself away.
“I just need a minute,” she mumbled, making for the small bathroom next door where there was a bit more space to breathe than in the narrow, cramped toilet room. She was beginning to feel trapped in her own home. It had seemed so beautiful at first, but now it seemed small, dark and shabby. All those girls who thought that marrying a foreigner was the answer to their money worries!
She’d been daydreaming again, staring at the bathroom mirror, lost in thought. She must have been in there at least ten minutes. She looked at her face in the mirror one more time and forced her lips into a smile. She had to be strong for Michael and Angelina’s sake. If she had to endure this trial, then so be it. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and walked back into her normal, usual, familiar life. She found Michael in the kitchen checking email on his laptop. His forehead was furrowed as he stared at the screen. She went over and smoothed her fingers across his forehead. “You’ll get wrinkles if you’re not careful.”
“What’s that? Oh, yeah. That’s the least of my worries.”
Bela sat down in the chair beside him. “Money running out?” she guessed.
“Yeah, something like that. I don’t think I can carry on just doing research after this year. I’m going to have to find some other source of income. It’s been great while it lasted, but I can’t be a student for ever.”
“I think,” Bela drew her mouth into a sympathetic smile, “that we both need to get away for a bit. Have a break.”
Michael closed his computer lid and looked at her.
“You know, I’ve been thinking the same thing. Where shall we go? The mountains?”
“Well, actually, I was thinking Moscow.”
“Moscow? Hardly a restful place!”
“Hey, come on,” Bela teased. “You’ve only been there once, and I could show you around a bit. There’s lots of great sights to see. You’ve lived in Russia for nearly three years now and you’ve never actually been inside the Kremlin, or been to the Bolshoi ballet, or...”
Michael laughed and kissed her. “Okay, you’ve won me over. Let’s do it.”
“Great!” Finally, something to look forward to, something else to do other than sitting around this dreary apartment waiting for a pregnancy that was never going to happen.
“Would we take Angelina with us?” Michael asked.
“No, we couldn’t take her out of school. She can stay with Mama for a few days, it won’t be a problem.”
“So, it’ll just be the two of us?” He drew her onto his lap and showered her neck with kisses. Bela laughed and pushed him away. “I’ll sort out the details as soon as I can!”
MAMA WAS LOOKING TIRED. The stress of all that had happened this summer had clearly been weighing her down. Or was there more to it?
Bela brought the two glasses of compote out into the garden and handed one to Mama.
“Let’s enjoy the end of the summer before it gets too cold to sit outside anymore,” Mama said as she settled herself onto the garden bench. “It’s been warm, this September.” Her smile looked a little forced, and the light had gone from her eyes.
“Is everything alright, Mama?” Bela asked, placing her hand gently on Mama’s arm.
Mama looked at her. “Yes, of course, lapochka. Your father is almost back to full health, it’s a real miracle.” She glanced back towards the house, where Bela knew her father was sleeping in the main bedroom on the lower floor.
“It’s been hard on you, though, hasn’t it?” Bela asked. Did Mama catch what she really meant? If she did, she showed no sign of acknowledging it.
“Yes, of course, looking after someone who’s just come out of hospital is always hard work.”
“I mean...”
“I know what you meant.”
They both sipped their compote. Bela glanced across to the neighbour’s backyard, which was only separated from their property by a chicken wire fence. She blinked back the tears that had suddenly welled up in both eyes. Such happy memories of playing there with Zalina when they were growing up. Zalina’s parents had sold the house soon after their daughter had died, and now another Circassian family lived there. Today, however, they didn’t seem to be at home.
“Mama? Please talk to me. You know that I know, can’t we just acknowledge that? You know that I know about Ma...”
“Never mention that woman’s name!” Mama snapped, jumping half up out of her seat and spinning around towards Bela, her eyes narrow and dark, her voice betraying deep pain behind the outward anger.
“Okay, okay,” Bela soothed. “But I think it would be good for you to talk about it with someone. Her son tried to murder your husband. That’s got to make you angry. Why are you being so calm about it? You’re acting as if this was just an unfortunate accident, nothing more.”
“It’s not my place to cast judgment.” Mama said slowly and decisively. She gave Bela a look that meant that she really didn’t want to continue this conversation. Bela sighed and gave in. One day she’d get to the bottom of whatever was going on inside Mama’s mind.
“I actually came here to ask if you know anyone who lives in Moscow. I mean...” Oh dear, she’d mentioned Moscow. She was trying hard to lighten the air, but the shadow of Maria and Pavel hung over them like a dark thun
der cloud. Pavel had been released a few weeks earlier and had been put on a bus back home. Papa had refused to take the matter any further and had obviously pulled strings to get the whole affair dropped. Mama now knew that Pavel and Maria were living in Moscow.
Bela took a deep breath and started again. “Michael and I were thinking of taking a break for a few days. He’s only been to Moscow once, and I thought it would be fun to show him around, you know? Be tourists, go to the ballet, visit the Kremlin.”
Mama’s eyes brightened and her shoulders relaxed. “Oh, that sounds like a lovely idea. Would you like me to look after Angelina? She’s welcome here anytime; such a sweet girl.”
“Thanks, Mama, that would be great. I know she loves staying here with you. So, do you?”
“Do I what, lapochka?”
“Do you know anyone who lives in Moscow who we might be able to stay with? Any distant relatives? The hotels there are so expensive, and it’s a bit short notice.”
Mama looked at Bela in a very strange way, as if she were deciding whether to divulge the information or not. Eventually she nodded.
“Actually, yes. I have a cousin. Her name is Lida. She lives in Moscow with her husband. Perhaps she has children too by now. We haven’t been in touch for years.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it seems a bit silly now. She became a Christian, like your Michael. She was shunned by her family and decided to stay in Moscow after she finished her studies.”
Bela nearly objected that it wasn’t just Michael who was a Christian, but she held her tongue instead. Even if her family had worked out that she had converted, they had chosen to pretend that nothing had changed and never mentioned it. It was one of those situations that she felt a bit guilty about. Should she have been more upfront about her faith? She’d held back because of what had happened to Zalina, but now the moment had passed, and everybody skirted around the ‘religion’ issue like an invisible elephant in the room. But this? This was new information. She had a distant cousin somewhere out there who had also converted. Was she still a Christian? How wonderful it would be to talk to her about it all. Bela suddenly wanted more than anything to go and visit this Lida.
“Do you think you might be able to find some contact details for her? An address? A telephone number?”
“I’ll see what I can do, lapochka. Now, finish your compote and come and help me get dinner ready.”
Chapter 9
Azamat
Azamat came home from work to find a pair of shoes he recognised as belonging to his sister Bela. He kicked his own shoes off by the door and switched to house slippers. Bela, Mama and Madina were all in the kitchen peeling potatoes.
“Hey, little sis!” Azamat gave Bela a hug. “Good to see you. How’s everyone?”
“Michael and Angelina are both well, thank you. How are things with you?”
“Good. Are you staying for dinner?”
“No, I need to get back. Angelina will be home from school soon.”
Bela turned back to Madina. “I heard Alyona’s dance ensemble won the regionals this year.”
Madina’s face flushed with pride. “Yes, they were amazing! Alyona really enjoyed it too. It’s been a lot of hard work, but she loves being up there on the stage.”
Madina turned to Azamat. “You would have loved it, Azamat. You used to enjoy dancing, didn’t you? You should come next time.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been up there on the stage,” he said, his mouth turning up in a sad smile. He grabbed a stool and joined them at the table.
“Milana’s son Alikhan was particularly good,” Madina said, turning back to Bela. “He’s got real talent, that boy.”
Bela’s eyebrows furrowed. “Remind me who Milana is?”
“Oh, you remember, she was my best friend from the village. She lived just down the road, and Alyona and Alikhan were playmates. He’s just a year younger than Alyona.”
Bela looked thoughtful. “I remember you talking about her, but I don’t think we ever met.”
“No, perhaps not,” Madina continued, “But it’s been great fun seeing them again. We bumped into each other at one of the dance practices last year and have been meeting up regularly at the café afterwards.”
They hadn’t seemed to notice that the colour had drained from Azamat’s face at the mention of Milana. His body had frozen rigid but his mind was doing overtime.
“And do they still live in your old village?” he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice neutral. Could they see his hands shaking?
“Yes, they’re still there. Alikhan goes to school number twelve, on the other side of Shekala.”
Azamat shifted his chair back. Perhaps he should excuse himself. He needed space to think. But the conversation had already moved on.
“Mama, let me make dinner tonight,” said Madina, rising up out of her seat. “Why don’t you go and put your feet up?”
“No, no need. You go and have a rest; you must have had a long day at work.”
“Oh, but Mama, I need to make my way here. Alyona and I have been living with you for several years now. I should be doing more.”
“Don’t be silly, lapochka. You work, and you pay for your food. You help enough around the kitchen. Besides, I enjoy cooking for you all.”
Madina sat down on her stool again. “Musa found me,” she said after a moment’s silence. She glanced at Bela and Azamat, assessing their reaction.
Mama stopped what she was doing, her body frozen for a brief moment as she too absorbed the news. She returned to her chopping board, but the knife seemed to be cutting more quickly and forcefully. “What did he want?”
Azamat understood why Mama had an edge to her voice. Musa had been sleeping with other women before Alyona had even been born, and he’d asked for a divorce as soon as one of his floozies had shown an interest in a more permanent relationship. As far as Azamat knew, Musa had never bothered to check up on Alyona or tried to see to her in the seven years they’d been living here in Awush with his parents.
“I’m not sure, actually. He was courteous and polite.”
“Did he ask after Alyona?”
“Yes, he did. He asked me if he could get in contact with her.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I needed to talk to Alyona first, but that I had no objections myself.”
“It’s about time he was a proper father to that child,” Mama muttered under her breath. The rhythmic sounds of the kitchen knife forcefully hitting the chopping board filled the awkward silence.
Azamat excused himself properly this time. This was women’s conversation, and he could tell his presence wasn’t wanted. Mama said she would call him when dinner was ready. He slumped in the chair in front of the television but paid no attention to the show that was on.
His body and mind were tense as he thought about Madina’s ex-husband. What right did he have to barge his way back into their lives after the way he’d treated them? His niece, Alyona, was so special to Azamat, he couldn’t bear the thought of her having to go through all that pain again. As far as he was aware, she’d moved on and barely thought of her father anymore. She was happy now. What was this news going to do to her? What would it do to his sister, Madina? She was the happiest now that he’d seen her in a long time. How dare this man...
But then he caught himself. The irony struck him. How was he any different from Musa? Okay, he hadn’t ever cheated on Milana while they were together, but he’d still walked away from his child and had made no attempt to contact him until now. He was about to do exactly the same thing. What if Alikhan was happy and carefree, and he was about to come into his life and shake everything up. Could he do that? Would he be that guy? He despised Musa, but was he any better himself, really? Perhaps it was best to drop the whole idea about trying to be reunited with his son.
Mama called out that dinner was ready. As he got up to go into the kitchen a thought struck him. School number twelve. He knew wh
ere that was. It wasn’t all that far from where he worked.
Chapter 10
Milana
Milana sat in the waiting room at the clinic. She looked around her at the tiled floors, the water cooler in the corner, the immaculately dressed receptionist. This was definitely one of the best clinics in Shekala. Surely, they’d be able to tell her what was wrong.
She glanced around at the other women waiting there. They were all well-dressed. Some were heavily pregnant, others, perhaps, coming for their first ultrasound. A door opened and a young woman came out, carrying a slip of paper, relief and joy plastered all over her face. Good news, no doubt.
Her own pregnancy, fifteen, no sixteen, years ago, was a bit of a blur. It had been unexpected and then quickly hushed up while wedding plans were hastily put in place. She remembered having one ultrasound over at one of the sanatoria hotels. The doctor had announced with great pleasure that she was expecting a boy and that everything was looking healthy. Milana had been surprised to feel happy herself. As she had watched the shadowy blur on the screen moving around, suddenly her maternal instincts had kicked in. She was going to have a baby. She was going to be a mother. She might have made a few mistakes in her young life up to that point, but she’d resolved that day that she was going to be the best mother ever. Her son deserved that much.
“Who’s last in line?” A new girl had come into the waiting room to join the queue. Milana put up her hand and the young woman acknowledged her and sat down.
Milana watched as another expectant mother came out of the consultation room. There were still at least another five girls ahead of her. Looking around, she suddenly felt old. She was only thirty-three, but anyone over the age of twenty-five was considered a ‘geriatric mother’ and treated with extra caution. She checked her bag to make sure that the results of the blood tests she’d had done last week were still there. Of course, they were. They hadn’t made any sense to her, but the doctor today would hopefully tell her what the problem was. Why hadn’t she been able to get pregnant a second time?
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