The Story of Us

by Lana Kortchik

  As a child, Natasha had loved the first snow and would hurry outside, trailed by her brothers and sister, to touch the snowflakes, to taste them, to feel them melt on her fingers. Even now, in the midst of occupied Kiev, there was something festive about the snow settling on tired earth.

  It was cold and a thousand daggers pierced Natasha’s skin despite three layers of clothes. She could see her breath, like a ghostly vapour leaving her lips, only to melt away in the icy air. The snow that fell earlier was now completely gone. Nothing covered the damaged streets. Natasha wished for fresh snow. She wished for summer. She wished it wasn’t war. But most of all, she wished she and Mark could be together, without having to hide their feelings for each other, without the lies and the deception. Out in the open for everyone to see.

  As Natasha walked past a library, she thought she caught a glimpse of something, a swatch of colour on the white snow. Slowing down, she realised the Nazis had discarded a whole collection of classics. Abandoned on the frozen ground, the books looked so pitiful, she couldn’t resist picking one up. It was Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo. Wiping the cover with her mitten, she placed the heavy-bound book in her bag.

  She saw Mark around the corner from her building and, making sure no one was watching, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could.

  ‘Ouch,’ he exclaimed. ‘I think you cracked my ribs.’

  ‘Your ribs are just fine. Is it my fault that I can’t get enough of you?’ Lately she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. Was it her imagination, or did he get more handsome every time she saw him? ‘Here, I brought you something.’ She reached into her bag and showed him the book.

  ‘The Count of Monte Cristo!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘I know it’s your favourite novel.’

  ‘Thank you. Since we moved out of the library, I haven’t had a chance to read.’ Mark’s barracks had moved to Podol and were now located on Frunze Street in what before the war was a large clothes store.

  ‘Do you have any news from the front? What’s happening in the rest of the Soviet Union?’

  ‘They don’t tell us much. I know the Nazis are a hundred kilometres from Moscow. Leningrad is in its death’s throes. The Germans talk about the war as if they’ve already won it. They think victory is only a few weeks away.’

  ‘It’s not, is it? It can’t be.’

  ‘I hope not. But Hitler is aiming to take Moscow before the 7th of November. He’s already planned the celebratory parade.’

  She shivered and pulled her hat down. She didn’t want to talk about the war anymore. ‘Have you heard from your parents?’

  ‘Not since September. Letters take weeks, sometimes months.’

  ‘We haven’t had any letters since—’

  ‘Natasha!’ came a voice from behind them.

  Her heart beating fast, she slowed down. She thought she recognised the voice. Letting go of Mark’s hand, she turned around and found herself face to face with a dumbfounded Nikolai. ‘What…’ he started saying and stopped. A thousand questions were in his eyes as he gazed from Natasha to the soldier in Hungarian uniform.

  Natasha didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. ‘Nikolai, this is Mark.’

  Mark stretched his hand out for a handshake, but Nikolai didn’t respond. Gaping at them, he turned on his heel and marched off.

  After a short silence, Natasha said, ‘I’d better go.’ Kissing Mark goodbye, she hurried after her brother.

  She caught up to him on the stairs of their building. ‘Nikolai, wait! I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Nothing to talk about.’ His voice was cold.

  ‘Please, don’t tell anyone you’ve seen us,’ she pleaded. ‘They won’t understand.’

  ‘Of course they won’t. Why would they?’

  He walked up a few steps. She followed. ‘Nikolai, stop. Slow down for a minute.’

  She caught his coat sleeve. He shook her off and spun around, glaring down at her from the step above. ‘What are you thinking?’ he snarled. ‘You’re the last person I expected this from.’

  ‘Expected what? It’s not what it looks like. We love each other.’ Nikolai stared at Natasha as if she was speaking Hungarian. She wanted to tell him Mark had saved her life. That he tried to save Babushka’s life. But to reveal this secret was to put Mark at risk. Natasha couldn’t do it, even if she knew she could trust Nikolai with her life. ‘He helps us. He brings us food. Without him we would starve.’

  ‘He fights for Hitler.’

  There they were, like a sharp slap across the face, the words she tried not to tell herself every night before she fell asleep. Natasha recoiled as if Nikolai had physically hit her. ‘It’s not like he had a choice. You think he’s happy to be here? His parents are Russian, just like us.’

  ‘If what you’re doing is right, why hide it? Why keep it a secret? I know why. Because it’s not right, and you know it.’

  Natasha had to raise her head to look into his face. She had never seen him like this before. Suddenly he reminded her of their father.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I won’t tell anyone. But not because I want to protect you. Because I’m ashamed.’

  Speechless, breathless, unable to move, Natasha watched as her brother turned his back to her. Up the stairs he ran, taking two steps at a time.

  ‘Nikolai,’ she cried, her heart racing. He didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t even pause. When Natasha heard the door slam, she leant on the wall and stared into the darkness of the stairwell. She didn’t want to go home.

  *

  When Natasha finally mustered enough strength to climb the two remaining flights of stairs, she heard loud voices coming from the top floor. She paused, wondering what was going on. The two apartments upstairs had been vacant since August when their neighbours had evacuated. The Nazis must have moved in there too, thought Natasha, and she was about to unlock the door when she recognised her sister’s voice. ‘Stop touching me! I don’t want you to touch me,’ Lisa shrieked like a woman possessed.

  Natasha dropped her keys and ran upstairs as fast as she could. Outside apartment number twelve, she found Lisa struggling against a red-faced Kurt, who had his arms around her and his face in her neck.

  ‘Let go of me! Leave me alone!’ cried Lisa. ‘Who do you think you are?’ She pushed and shoved, but wasn’t strong enough to extricate herself from Kurt’s embrace. And he looked like he had no intention of letting her go.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ exclaimed Natasha, pulling Kurt by the arm. Instantly he released Lisa, muttered an embarrassed apology and disappeared down the stairs.

  Lisa was out of breath, and her hands shook too much as she tried to button up her blouse.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Natasha, helping Lisa with the buttons and collecting her gloves off the floor.

  ‘Does it look like I’m okay?’

  ‘What were you doing up here with him?’

  ‘He said he had presents for me. A bar of chocolate. A pair of stockings.’

  ‘And you didn’t think he’d want something in return?’ Lisa’s innocence surprised Natasha. It was so unlike her sister.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking, okay? I thought he was nice. Not like the rest of them.’

  ‘He is nice. And crazy about you by the looks of it.’

  ‘He’s married, for God’s sake. I thought I could trust him.’ Suddenly Lisa looked like a little girl, lost and afraid. Natasha couldn’t help it, she hugged her sister tight, expecting Lisa to push her away. But Lisa didn’t push her away. Instead, she hid her face in Natasha’s hair and cried softly. Natasha inhaled, finding comfort in her sister’s familiar scent. She realised how much she’d missed being able to speak to her sister without seeing hatred in her eyes. How much she’d missed the closeness the two of them had once shared.

  ‘He was offering you a pair of stockings. What did you think was going to happen?’ asked Natasha when Lisa stopped sobbing.

  Lisa s
moothed her coat, placing her gloves in her pocket. She looked more composed but her voice trembled when she said, ‘What am I going to do, Natasha? He won’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘Next time he wants to give you a pair of stockings, don’t fall for it.’

  ‘I think it’s too late for that. He won’t leave me alone. Thank God you came by when you did or who knows what would have happened.’ Lisa leaned into Natasha. ‘Everything is such a terrible mess. I miss Olga so much. Remember when you would sneak out and catch a train to visit her in the village? She was your best friend. You two were so close, always whispering, swapping secrets, sharing adventures. I was so jealous. I didn’t think I would ever miss her. Oh Natasha, what are we going to do?’

  Natasha hugged Lisa. ‘You are my best friend, Lisa. You are my sister and I love you. And we are going to be just fine. We still have each other.’

  ‘I wish Stanislav was here,’ said Lisa. ‘Everything would be alright if only Stanislav was here.’

  ‘We all wish he was here.’

  ‘We are not safe anymore, not even in our own home. I can’t relax for a moment. When I go to sleep, I wonder if I will wake up with Kurt in my bed, holding me down. He’s the conqueror. He thinks everything in our house belongs to him. Including me. He’ll keep trying till he gets his way. As long as he’s here, he’ll just keep trying.’ Lisa sniffled and leaned on Natasha’s shoulder, quivering like a frightened kitten. ‘What am I going to do? I’ll have to give in because he’ll never leave me alone.’

  ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,’ said Natasha, stroking Lisa’s dishevelled head. ‘We’ll just have to hide you from him, somewhere he wouldn’t think of looking. I went to visit Olga’s grandfather this morning to see if he was okay. He’s lonely and sad, and asked us to stay with him for a while. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? He has a big apartment all to himself.’

  ‘There are no Germans living with him?’ Lisa’s eyes lit up with hope.

  ‘No Germans. And he could do with the company now that—’ Natasha’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat and continued. ‘Now that Olga and her mama are gone.’

  ‘It would be so nice to get away, to not have Kurt breathing down my neck. Thank you, sister. You saved my life. Let’s talk to Mama about it.’

  ‘Yes, let’s talk to Mama right away,’ said Natasha, smiling at the thought of no longer living with the Nazis only a thin plank of wood away.

  ‘I don’t think I can live without Alexei, Natasha. I tried. I wake up every morning and think, this is it, this will be the day I’m going to feel better. But then every evening I lie awake thinking, I can’t do this anymore.’

  And Natasha stopped smiling.

  *

  Before they even had a chance to take their coats off, they heard Mother calling them. What’s happened now? wondered Natasha as she hurried to the kitchen with Lisa. They found Mother pointing at the kitchen table, her eyes wide. ‘Where did that come from?’ So much contempt was in her voice, so much disapproval, Natasha expected to see a gun or a Nazi uniform or at the very least the latest edition of the Ukrainian Word. What she did see, however, was a loaf of bread. It wasn’t anything at all like the bread they picked up from the store. It didn’t look like it was made of reserve flour, tasteless and clay-like. This bread was white, with a golden crust, and smelt delicious.

  ‘Kurt must have left it for us,’ said Nikolai. Even though he had never met Kurt, he had a lot of respect for the German soldier because of the two bars of chocolate he had given them over the past few days.

  ‘He must be feeling guilty for what he did,’ said Natasha, glancing at Lisa, who was cowering in the door, as if expecting Kurt to suddenly jump out at her and drag her away.

  ‘What did he do?’ asked Mother absentmindedly.

  Lisa remained silent, so it was Natasha who said, ‘He won’t leave poor Lisa alone. I found him practically assaulting her on the stairs.’

  ‘He did what?’ exclaimed Mother. Anger flashed through her eyes. ‘That Nazi snake assaulted my daughter? I knew he was no good, just like the rest of them.’ She made a move as if to go after Kurt immediately and bring him to justice.

  Natasha put her hand on Mother’s shoulder, stopping her. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm. He seems to be head over heels in love with Lisa, that’s all.’

  ‘He won’t take no for an answer,’ mumbled Lisa, not meeting their eyes. ‘I’m afraid of him, Mama. I don’t know what he might do. It’s not safe for me here. Please, can’t we go somewhere else?’

  ‘Go where? Wait till I get hold of him. I’ll tell him what I think of him—’

  ‘Stop it, Mama. You don’t want to get in trouble with the Germans,’ said Natasha. ‘Mikhail wants us to stay with him. Now that Olga and Oksana are gone, he’s lonely and sad.’

  ‘I’m not leaving our apartment to the Nazis,’ said Mother adamantly. ‘This is our home.’

  ‘It is our home. But look at us. All we have left is this kitchen. Soon they’ll force us onto the streets like they did the Kuzenkos. Mikhail doesn’t have any Germans staying with him,’ said Natasha.

  ‘And I’m not safe here,’ reminded Lisa.

  ‘Come on, Mama,’ said Nikolai. ‘We’d all be better off without the Nazis in the same house.’

  ‘Mikhail needs us,’ added Natasha.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Mother. ‘But we can’t accept this bread. It’s Nazi bread and I won’t take anything from them.’ She shook her head, her eyes on the loaf. ‘We must give it back.’

  ‘Give the bread back, Mama?’ Natasha’s mouth slid open. ‘Are you serious?’

  In silence they looked at the bread that was sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty table.

  ‘We can’t eat it,’ insisted Mother.

  ‘We have to, Mama,’ said Natasha. ‘We have nothing else.’

  ‘Look at this bread. It’s just like our Soviet bread. It smells exactly the same.’ Nikolai inhaled. Suddenly he looked light-headed. ‘It’s made from Soviet flour in Soviet factories by Soviet workers. It’s our bread. Not German.’

  ‘He has a point, Mama. It is our bread. Just because Germans occupied our Kiev, it doesn’t make it theirs,’ said Natasha. She would have said anything if it meant having a slice of bread. Her stomach rumbled. When was the last time she’d had a proper meal? She couldn’t even remember. ‘If we eat it, it’s one less loaf for the Germans. And Nikolai is right. We do need it.’

  Mother brought the bread to her face. ‘It does smell just like our bread.’ For dinner, they had a large piece of bread each, and it tasted as delicious as it looked.

  *

  The next day, a miracle happened. Cold running water and electricity were restored. No more reading by the kerosene lamp. No more going downstairs to fetch a bucket of water. It was as if some degree of normality, however small, was gradually returning to their lives. Even though Natasha would never see her grandmother, Alexei or Olga again. Even though their city was ablaze. Even though the river of blood was still flowing through Babi Yar.

  The whole family was gathered in the kitchen. Lisa was drinking tea, Grandfather was reading, Nikolai was gazing out of the window, and his face was as grim as the darkened sky. Father was sleeping, and Mother was comforting their neighbour Masha Enotova, who was sobbing and wiping her face with the back of her hand. Masha and her husband had a two-bedroom apartment downstairs. They had eight children, seven of whom slept on the floor stacked next to each other like sardines. Their last child had been born only four months ago and had a crib all to himself in his parents’ bedroom.

  ‘Oh, Zoya, what was I to do? I felt so helpless. My poor baby! He melted away in front of my eyes, and there was nothing I could do.’

  ‘Shhh, shhh,’ repeated Mother.

  ‘I had no milk for him. When I finally got some on the black market, it was too late. I wish it was me and not him. Why couldn’t I have died instead?’

  ‘Don’t
say that.’ Mother rocked Masha in her arms as if she was an infant. ‘Don’t talk like that. Your children need you.’

  Masha looked up, and her eyes sparkled. ‘I swear I won’t let anything happen to the rest of my children. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them alive. Whatever it takes, Zoya!’

  After Masha left, for a long time no one spoke.

  ‘There are no stray cats or dogs left in Kiev. Did you notice that?’ asked Lisa. ‘I haven’t seen one in weeks. Have they all been eaten?’

  ‘Pigeons are gone, too,’ said Natasha.

  ‘Where did the pigeons go? They aren’t cats. They are much harder to catch.’

  ‘Apparently the Germans got rid of them.’

  ‘Got rid of them? Why?’

  ‘Who knows. In case we use them to send notes to unoccupied territories?’ Natasha looked at her brother, but Nikolai wasn’t looking at her. Mother moved around the jam-packed kitchen like a ghost, slowly packing what little belongings they had.

  Natasha made sure she packed her favourite book, Tolstoy’s War and Peace. She packed Mark’s kerosene lamp and an old black-and-white photograph of her grandmother. She looked around. Where was the thing she was searching for? There it was, on the fridge, next to Grandfather’s glasses.

  She caught up to her brother in the corridor. The Germans were out. Thank God for this small mercy.

  ‘Here, Nikolai. You might want to take this.’

  Nikolai still seemed upset, but Natasha could tell he wasn’t upset at her. If anything, he seemed relieved they were talking again. ‘The scarf Babushka was knitting,’ he exclaimed, touching the soft wool. ‘Still smells of her. Jasmine and valerian.’

  ‘I finished the scarf for you last night. It’ll keep you warm.’

  Nikolai unfolded the scarf. It was long, almost as long as him. He looked as if he was about to cry.

  Making sure there was no one else around, Natasha whispered, ‘Nikolai, I don’t expect you to understand but please trust my judgement. I didn’t ask for any of this. It happened. It was meant to happen.’