The Story of Us

by Lana Kortchik

  ‘Yes. Now you have to teach me how to play well.’

  ‘So you can beat me? I don’t think so.’ Through the broken window she could hear music. ‘What’s that song?’ asked Natasha.

  ‘It’s called “O Tannenbaum”.’

  ‘What’s a tannenbaum?’

  ‘A Christmas tree. Germans are celebrating Christmas.’

  ‘Today?’ She was in his arms, and it felt so comforting, so relaxing. She let her eyes droop.

  ‘Christmas Eve is tomorrow.’

  She reached under his shirt. Pushing her away, he cried, ‘Oh my God, your hands!’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘They’re freezing. Why are they so cold?’ She took her hands away. ‘Wait. Where are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘I thought you didn’t like it.’

  ‘I never said I didn’t like it.’ He put his own freezing hands on her.

  ‘Oh no, this is torture,’ she squealed. ‘Stop it this instant!’

  ‘Never!’ He kissed her.

  When he let go, she said, ‘Christmas Eve! Is that why I saw a beautiful tree on Pochtovaya Street? It was so pretty, all baubles and lights and tinsel. Just like our New Year’s tree, but instead of a red star there was a golden figure at the top.’

  ‘An angel. It’s a Christmas tradition.’

  ‘We don’t have anything like that here. No religion in the Soviet Union. It’s a shame, really.’ Carols were playing on the radio. Natasha paused to listen. ‘Do you celebrate Christmas in Hungary?’

  ‘We’re lucky. We celebrate it twice. In December with everybody else and in January because my parents are Russian Orthodox. My mother is very religious.’

  ‘Just like my babushka.’ She hugged him tightly. ‘Happy Christmas, Mark,’ she whispered.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Natasha! I love this time of year. The whole family gathers together, and Mother makes roasts, Russian salads and Russian cakes. Sometimes we go ice skating and sometimes we sit around the fireplace and play the guitar. My father is quite the singer.’

  ‘Your Christmas sounds wonderful. A bit like our New Year’s Eve. It’s my favourite holiday. There is something magical about it. You say goodbye to the old year and welcome the new one. It’s a fresh start, a new beginning. Last New Year’s, Lisa was waiting for Alexei to propose. She interrogated me day and night. I don’t know why she thought Alexei would confide in me.’ Natasha sighed. ‘I can’t wait for this year to end. It’s been the worst year of my life.’

  ‘It wasn’t all bad. It was the year I met you.’

  Instantly she felt guilty. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t all bad.’ The street lights outside flickered. The music died away. ‘Are you doing anything on New Year’s Eve?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ll write to my parents. I’ve never spent holidays apart from them before.’

  Natasha nodded. ‘It’s our first New Year’s without Papa and Stanislav. I wish I could invite you home. They say the way you welcome the New Year is the way you’re going to spend it. And I want to spend it with you.’

  ‘Just think about me at midnight and I’ll think about you.’

  ‘You think that will still work?’

  ‘Of course it will.’ She must have looked worried because he laughed and said, ‘I had no idea you were so superstitious.’

  ‘Every Russian is. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Not in the slightest. What will you do for the New Year?’

  ‘Everyone is too sad about Papa to celebrate. Mama’s not up for much these days. Yuri cheers everyone up a bit. He’s so easy-going and funny. Nikolai absolutely adores him. He follows him around like a love-struck puppy. We all adore him.’

  There was a frown on Mark’s face. Pretend or real? Natasha couldn’t tell. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Me? Never!’ Effortlessly, as if she was a porcelain doll, he lifted her up and placed her on his lap.

  ‘I only have eyes for you. You know that, don’t you?’

  He nodded and smiled. His frown was gone.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Did I tell you that Yuri managed to tune into Moscow on his radio? Kalinin is still Soviet. And there was something about Leningrad, too, but he lost the signal.’

  ‘Be careful. You can get shot for having a radio. Where did Yuri get it?’

  ‘I’m not sure. One day he showed up with a watch and a radio. He hides it on the roof. You know what else we heard? That there are 423,000 people living in Kiev at the moment.’ His frown was back, and this time she could tell it was real. ‘Mark, how can that be? There were over a million people before the war.’ When he didn’t reply, she asked, ‘What happened to everyone?’

  ‘Some of them will have been evacuated. Others…’ He paused.

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  She wished it was darker in the room, so she couldn’t see the steely expression on his face. There was something despondent in the way he pursed his lips, in the way his jaw stiffened. ‘The Germans are planning to reduce the population of Kiev to a hundred thousand. There just isn’t enough food for everyone,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean, reduce?’ She could sense he didn’t want to tell her. ‘Mark, what are they going to do to us?’

  ‘Soon mass transportations to Germany are going to start.’

  ‘Mass transportations?’ Natasha slid off his lap. She searched his face for hidden clues. There was something in his eyes that she didn’t like. As if he knew too much and didn’t want to tell her.

  ‘To them the population is nothing but a source of slave labour. To make the most of it, they’re going to transport workers to factories all over Germany.’

  Natasha shivered. When she spoke, she tried to sound confident but failed. ‘They can’t send me to Germany. I have a job in the cafeteria.’ She fell quiet. No one else in her family had a job, not even Mother, who had stopped going to school the day Father was taken.

  ‘What I’m saying is, you might not be safe here for much longer. You need to think about leaving Kiev.’

  She blinked. Did she hear him right? Did he just say, leave Kiev? ‘What do you mean? The Germans will never let me go.’

  ‘Natasha, there’s something I need to tell you.’ His voice was grave. Where was the light-hearted smile, the teasing banter? ‘Our regiment is being recalled to Hungary. We’re going back.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ Was it her voice that sounded so hoarse? She didn’t recognise it.

  ‘I have no choice.’

  For a moment nothing could be heard but drunken German voices outside and Natasha’s breathing, heavy and irregular. She longed for Christmas carols, for a voice on the loudspeaker, a German voice, a Soviet voice, anything to fill the empty darkness. Finally, she said, ‘I’m so happy for you. You’re going home. You’ll see your family again. You can forget the Soviet Union like a horrible nightmare. You can forget all about the war.’ Through her tears she smiled.

  ‘Natasha, you don’t understand. I want you to come with me.’

  ‘Come with you?’ She thought he was joking. But his eyes were serious.

  ‘In Hungary you’ll be safe. We can be together.’

  ‘What about my family?’ She struggled to get the words out.

  ‘Didn’t you say you wanted to run away with me? To Australia, France, anywhere as long as we were together? Well, now we can.’

  ‘It was a fantasy, a dream, nothing more.’ When he didn’t reply, she added, ‘We have to think about other people.’

  ‘What about us?’ he demanded. ‘I know it’s difficult but the most important thing is your safety. And you’re not safe in Kiev.’

  ‘No one is safe in Kiev. Yet no one is leaving.’

  He raised his voice but only for a second. ‘They don’t have a choice. But you do. You can come with me.’

  ‘How could I go without my family? How could I leave them here to die?’

  What he was suggesting, it was impossible. Why couldn’t he see
that?

  He said, ‘I wish I could take all of you to Hungary. But I can’t. Gestapo checkpoints are on every major road. Taking you across will be risky enough.’

  ‘How will you hide me?’

  ‘I won’t. You’ll be out in the open, next to me. One of our nurses was killed a week ago. I have her travel documents and her uniform.’

  Natasha shuddered. Could she cross Europe pretending to be someone else? Could she travel in a truck full of Hungarian soldiers across war-torn countries wearing the uniform of a dead nurse? What if they were stopped, and she was expected to speak Hungarian? What if she was discovered? There were so many what ifs. She clenched her fists. ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘In two weeks.’

  Two weeks! Silent tears filled her eyes. Thankfully, he was staring out the window. He didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Natasha, the most important thing right now is your safety. When the war is over, we’ll come back. We’ll find your family again.’

  Natasha imagined her beloved grandfather’s smiling face. She imagined her mother’s tears as she cried night after night, not only for Father and Stanislav but for Natasha, too. ‘I could never leave them.’

  ‘I don’t understand. I thought it’s what you wanted. To be with me.’

  ‘It was.’ Her eyes pleaded with him in the dark. Pleaded for a way out, for a solution. ‘It is,’ she repeated, quieter. ‘I don’t want to upset you, but my family needs me. They wouldn’t want me to go.’

  ‘It’s not about what they want. It’s about what you want.’

  ‘I could never do anything to hurt them.’

  ‘I know. You never think of yourself, only of others. That’s one of the many reasons I love you.’ He moved away from her and immediately she felt cold. She wanted his body next to her again. ‘Promise you’ll think about it,’ he begged.

  ‘I can’t promise you that. Please, understand. I can’t leave them here. I love my family.’

  ‘And I love you. I can’t leave you here, either.’

  ‘When you leave, my heart will be broken,’ she whispered softly. So softly that he couldn’t have possibly heard. Her chest was hurting, her throat was parched. Shuddering, she pulled him close. His fingers on her bare skin felt like fire. It hurt to touch his face and it hurt to kiss him. It hurt to take deep, measured breaths, too, so she took tiny, shallow ones, all the while touching him, kissing him, soaking him up through her skin.

  Chapter 11 – The Impossible Choices

  December 1941

  Lisa slipped into the room as Natasha was getting dressed. Natasha turned away. She didn’t want her sister to notice her tears. But Lisa looked through Natasha as if she wasn’t in the room. ‘Going somewhere?’ she demanded.

  Talking, such a simple act, so why did it require all her strength, the strength she didn’t have? ‘Yes, we’re going to distribute Yuri’s leaflets. Why don’t you come? We can use all the help we can get.’

  Lisa looked at Natasha like she had just invited her to dig a trench in the Taras Shevchenko Park. ‘Are you crazy? It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘I know it is. But it’s worth it. It’s a chance to help our people fight the Nazis.’

  Lisa shook her head as if helping her people fight the Nazis was the last thing she wanted to do. Natasha didn’t say another word. She was in no mood for arguments.

  Yuri had told Natasha the market was the best place to distribute the leaflets. It was busy, and people were distracted. Therefore, it was to the market that Natasha and Nikolai headed, moving as fast as they could to keep themselves warm. Although the stores were closed, they still retained the old signs: meat, cheese, sausages, fish. Was there really a life when these items were not only readily available but taken for granted? Was there a life when Natasha could walk to the store and queue up for white, beautiful bread that didn’t crumble under her fingers and didn’t taste like cement? As she walked through eerie streets, passing ghost-like Soviets and self-satisfied Nazis, Natasha couldn’t imagine that life.

  She put one foot in front of the other silently and methodically. If only she focused on the task at hand, if only she thought of nothing but helping Yuri, she would have no space for other thoughts and other feelings. If only.

  Natasha didn’t know where to turn. On one side, there was Mark, the man she loved more than anything in the world. And on the other, her family, who were her world. She’d never spent a day without her parents and siblings before, how could she board a truck bound for Hungary and leave them behind? How could she turn her back on them? She had only known Mark for two months, but she’d been with her family for a lifetime.

  But turning her back on Mark and continuing as if she’d never met him was equally impossible. She could hardly remember the person she’d been before she’d met him. Could she go on with her life and not see his smiling face and not feel his beating heart? She didn’t think so.

  Natasha slipped on the ice and waved her arms to regain her balance. Nikolai caught her mid-fall and said, pointing across the road, ‘Look, pigeons! They’re back.’

  ‘Indeed they are. Can you believe it?’ Such a small thing, and yet, it was enough to make her look up from the frozen ground and smile. It was a victory, however small. Wait till I tell Mark, she thought. And then she remembered he was leaving, and her smile vanished.

  ‘The Nazis ordered them all destroyed but here they are. What did I tell you? It’s not just us. Everything is resisting,’ exclaimed Nikolai. ‘You still think they’re going to win?’ Sliding on ice, he zoomed down the street.

  ‘Wait, you’re walking too fast!’ Natasha caught up to her brother, hugging him. ‘I love you, Nikolai. I wish I had your optimism. What’s your secret?’

  ‘No secret. But if we give up, we’ll die. Staying positive is better than dying.’

  Yuri was right, the market was crowded. Men, women, even children were shouting, arguing and shoving each other. The Kievans brought their best clothes, their jewellery, their furniture, hoping to exchange them for something, anything, to eat. Villagers arrived with their meagre produce, knowing that food was in high demand in these dire times and eager to obtain something valuable for their withered carrots, tiny potatoes, eggs and milk.

  Natasha and Nikolai were grateful for the commotion. It made their job easier. They moved through the crowd swiftly, hiding Yuri’s leaflets in people’s pockets, placing them in their baskets and carts. It took them ten minutes to get rid of all the leaflets. Just as they were about to leave, content in the knowledge that they had accomplished their mission safely and in record time, Nikolai exclaimed, ‘Look, it’s Masha Enotova!’ He waved and shouted, ‘Masha!’

  Natasha looked at the emaciated woman Nikolai was pointing at. Crouched on the ground, her hand outstretched, her lips perched, she was begging for loose change or a piece of bread.

  ‘Nikolai, that’s not Masha. Quick, let’s go home. It’s cold,’ said Natasha.

  Nikolai hesitated. ‘I could swear it was her.’

  Natasha was about to walk away when the woman raised her head. It was Masha.

  ‘Masha,’ cried Natasha. ‘What are you doing here?’

  With great difficulty Masha’s eyes focused on Natasha. There was a long silence, and then she laughed. Her laughter scared Natasha so much that she recoiled from her mother’s friend, taking a few steps back and almost falling on the snow. Masha looked drunk. Her movements were jerky and her eyes unclear. Natasha wondered where Masha managed to find any vodka. It was one of the most sought-after commodities at the market. But when Natasha came closer, she realised that Masha didn’t smell of alcohol. She was sober, and yet, she looked deranged.

  ‘Masha, what are you doing here?’ asked Nikolai. Masha didn’t reply. She stared at Natasha as if trying to remember who she was.

  Natasha didn’t know what to say. She regretted approaching the woman. ‘Masha, where are your children? Your husband?’

  ‘Gone. Every single one of them, gone.’ Masha
slurred her words. Her body swayed.

  ‘Gone where? Are they in the village with your mother?’ Natasha asked, even though she knew in her heart that the answer would be no.

  Masha wailed, ‘Dead. They’re all dead.’

  Nikolai stepped from one foot to another. Natasha gasped. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The Germans happened. The war happened.’

  Natasha backed away from her.

  ‘Tell your mama to come and find me,’ said Masha, her body rocking. So she did recognise me, thought Natasha.

  ‘Let’s go, Nikolai.’ She grabbed her brother’s hand, and they walked back in silence.

  At home, she wanted to tell her mother about Masha but couldn’t. It wasn’t the fact that Masha had lost her entire family that stunned Natasha. She had seen death before. And it wasn’t the fact that Masha was begging for a living that shocked her. They were all doing their best to stay alive. Natasha was shaken because the woman she and Nikolai encountered at the market had nothing in common with her mother’s vibrant friend. Even though she had survived, somewhere along the way Masha Enotova had lost herself.

  *

  Natasha shuffled through the crowded cafeteria. From table to table she moved, her gaze fixed on the floor and her face blank. She didn’t want to look at the misery and the hunger, the tears and the heartbreak. If she could, she would have done her work with her eyes closed. It occurred to her that the only thing that helped her through her day was her evening time with Mark. A few hours that showed her that she was still alive and not dead.

  ‘Only ten days left,’ she whispered to him in the evening.

  ‘Don’t do that. Don’t count the days.’

  ‘Ten days with you. I’m lucky. It’s more happiness than most people have in their lifetimes. It’s more than Olga ever had.’

  ‘Natasha, I can’t go without you. If you can’t leave your family, I’ll stay too. I’ll stay here with you.’

  Her heart beating fast, she touched his face. ‘Can you even stay here if your regiment goes back?’

  ‘I’ll find a way. I could remain behind and join a partisan battalion in one of the villages. I’ll fight the Germans. In my own way I’ll help free the world of Hitler.’