Lord, how sweet it was. He’d start plucking at my heart, I’d just go numb, go numb like I was dying. My heart would flutter and stop. It would just stand there, like a horse sleeping. Then — bing! It would come alive again, quiver, and he’d start plucking at it again.
But everything on earth comes to an end eventually.
He stopped. We both sort of died. We lay there in two big lumps. Neither of us could lift a finger.
The train kept on going — chug-a-chug, chug-a-chug.
Then he loosened his hands. And collapsed on the floor.
I lay there and lay there. Then I sat up and I looked around. He was on the floor, as still as a corpse. Then he moved, suddenly embracing my legs. It was so dear and sweet!
I didn’t even have the strength to cry.
He got up and dressed. Laid me down in bed and covered me with a blanket. Then he left.
I couldn’t lie still. I got up. I pulled back the curtains from the window and looked out. I saw forest, fields, and villages. I looked at them as though I was seeing all this for the first time. I felt no fear. There was such joyous peace in my chest. Everything was clear!
Then he returned. This time he was dressed in his black uniform. He brought me some clothes: a pretty dress, all sorts of underclothes, boots, a coat, scarf, and beret. And he started dressing me. I watched him. On the one hand, I was embarrassed, but on the other, my soul was singing!
He dressed me and sat down next to me. He looked at me with his blue eyes. And I looked at him.
I felt so good!
It wasn’t that I’d fallen in love with him. It was good in a totally different way. You can’t say it in words. I felt I’d been given in marriage. To something great and good. Something that was forever and eternally my own, very dear, very beloved.
It wasn’t love, the thing you have between girls and fellows. I knew about love.
I’d fallen in love twice before. First with Goshka the shepherd. Then with Kolya Malakhov, an already married man. Goshka and me kissed, and he squeezed my breasts. We’d go up in the hayloft to do it. He wanted to paw me lower down — but I didn’t let him.
I fell in love with Kolya Malakhov myself. He didn’t know anything and still doesn’t, if he’s alive. Like Father, he was sent to the war on June 24.
Before the war he was married off to Nastenka Pluyanova. He was seventeen and she was sixteen. We worked at the haymaking together. He cut, I dried and raked. I got stuck on him. He had curly hair, he was handsome and merry. When I caught sight of him — my heart would freeze. I’d be soaked to the bone in embarrassment. I’d go beet red. I even stopped eating for two days. Then it would pass somehow. Later — it happened again. I could think only of him. I cried and cried: dumb old Nastenka was so lucky! Then it sort of let go of me. Just as well. Why should I pine after someone else’s fellow? That’s love for you.
But this — was something else.
We rode the whole day in silence. We sat side by side.
Then the train stopped. The German got up, put the coat on me. And took me by the hand through the entire car. It was full of German officers. We got off the train at the station. I looked around — what a station, I’d never seen anything of the sort! It was all iron and so high, no beginning or end to it. There were trains everywhere! People everywhere! And they all had things with them, and were well dressed. Everything was clean. Like in the movies.
He took me across the station. The other Germans followed him. Behind them a peasant with a mustache wheeled the suitcases on a cart.
I walked behind him. Everything was different. It all smelled different. A city smell.
Suddenly the station came to an end. We walked straight out into the city. It was so beautiful! All the houses were beautiful. There wasn’t any war here at all — all the buildings were whole, people strolled down the streets calmly. Some even had dogs. They sat on benches and read newspapers.
We came to some automobiles. Just as black as the other one I’d ridden in, and just as shiny. Everyone got in. The important German and I got in the first car, and it drove off. Through the whole city.
I looked out the window and suddenly said, “Was ist das?”
He laughed. “Oh, du sprichst Deutsch, Khram! Das ist schöne Wien.”
Then he started talking fast, but I didn’t understand anything. Over the two years that the Germans stayed with us, I learned some German words. I even knew swear words. But I never studied German in school.
I just smiled. Then he made a sign to the German who sat in front. He had met us at the station. And he was fair and blue-eyed, too. But he wasn’t wearing a black uniform, he was in regular clothes. And a hat.
He spoke to me in Russian, and I thought he must be Polish. He said, “This city is called Vienna. It’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world.”
He told me all about the city: when it was built and what marvelous things there were to see. But I didn’t remember anything.
Suddenly the important German ordered the chauffeur, “Stop!”
We stopped. The important one said something. And the Germans nodded.
“Eine gute Idee!”
The important one got out, opened the door, and signaled to me. I got out. I looked around: just a street. And a store with a pretty sign was right in front of us. Such a wonderful aroma came from that store! I felt faint!
The important German and I went inside. There were mirrors all around, and thousands of candies, cakes, pies, and other sweets. Very pretty girls in white aprons stood around. Behind me the Pole said, “What do you want?”
I said, “I don’t even know.”
The important man pointed to something behind the glass. The girl began to do something like mixing dough, and then — whoop! She handed me a little funnel with a pink ball on it. I took it. The ball smelled sweet. I tried it — but it was cold. It made my teeth ache. I looked at the German.
He nodded as if to say, go ahead and eat it.
And I ate it. It resembled sweet snow, but thicker. Delicious, but strange.
I ate and ate. And stopped.
Really, after everything that had happened, I didn’t much want to eat. But the smells were good. I said, “It’s cold. You can’t eat much. May I wait for it to thaw?”
The Germans laughed. And that Pole said, “It’s ice cream. You have to eat it cold. A little at a time. You don’t have to hurry, you can finish it in the car.”
I nodded. And we got back in and drove off down those beautiful streets. I looked out the window and ate slowly.
But honestly, I didn’t really like the ice cream. The caramel roosters that Papa brought from the market were tastier. I could have sucked on them day and night.
We left the city and drove into the hills. The hills got higher and higher, till they were as high as the sky! I’d never seen anything like it in my life. We had two hills between Koliubakino and Pospelovka. When the girls and I walked to the Pospelovka village store we walked across the hills. You’d climb up to the tippy-top, stand there — oh, you could see so far! You could see our house like it was on the palm of your hand. Sometimes I could even see our rooster.
These hills took your breath away. The road became a narrow, twisty snake, and when you looked down you saw enormous pits! There were fir trees growing everywhere.
I asked, “What is this?”
“These are the mountains called the Alps,” the Pole answered.
We drove through those Alps. Higher and higher.
We were so high that we reached the clouds, and drove on into them!
I kept looking down, but I couldn’t see anything — that’s how high it was!
We kept on driving and driving, there was no end to it. I was rocked from side to side, and my chest began to smart. I dozed off.
I woke up.
It was already dusk and I was being carried in someone’s arms! The important German was carrying me. It was so embarrassing! No one had carried me for a long time.
/> I didn’t say anything. He carried me along a road. The woods all around were covered in snow. The stars shone in the sky. The other Germans walked behind us. I looked to the right: Where was he taking me? And there was a large house! All made of stone, with light in the windows, and towers and everything, how beautiful!
He walked up the steps to a sort of porch. They were expecting him — the doors clanked open. The doors were incredibly heavy, all strapped with iron.
He walked in carrying me; everything was made of stone, the ceiling swam before my eyes. The lamps were lit. His boots made a sound — clok, clok, clok.
He walked and walked.
Suddenly some other doors flew open and there was a lot of light all at once.
The German stopped. He set me down carefully, like a doll. But not on the floor. He put me on a white stone, as big as a trunk. In Zhizdra an iron Lenin stood on that kind of stone before the war. Then the Germans knocked him down.
I lay on that stone. I looked around — there were lots of people, maybe forty. Men, women. And they were all looking at me silently.
The German said something to them in German. And they approached me from all sides. They came, like sheep, smiling. And they all came over to me! I was kind of dumbstruck. They walked up to that stone and suddenly all of them got down on their knees and bowed to me.
I looked around for my German — what should I do? But he had also bowed down to the floor in his black uniform. So did all the Germans who came with us. And the Polish man.
Everyone was bowing to me!
Then they lifted their heads and looked at me.
I saw that they were all blond. And they all had blue eyes.
They got up from their knees one by one. An old man came over to me and stretched out his hands. He spoke in plain Russian.
“Come down and be with us, Sister.”
And so I got off the stone.
He said, “Khram! We are happy to have found you among the dead. You are our sister forever. We are your brothers and sisters. Each one of us will now greet you heartily.
He hugged me and said, “I am Bro.”
A jolt passed to me from his heart. As though his heart was saying good day to my heart. Once again I felt the sweetness I’d felt in the train. But he soon unclasped his hands and moved aside.
All the others began to approach me. They took turns. Spoke their names and hugged me. Each time something pulsed and tugged at my heart. In all different ways: from one person it was like this, from another — like that.
It was all so sweet, it went right through me. Like glasses of wine were being poured onto my heart. One! Two! Three!
I stood there in a dream. My eyes closed. I wanted only one thing — for it continue an eternity.
Finally the last one walked up, said his name, hugged me, tugged at my heart — and stepped back. Suddenly it was empty around me — they all stood a ways off, warm and friendly, smiling at me.
The old man took me by the hand and led me off through room after room filled with expensive things. Then up a staircase. He brought me to a big room, entirely done in wood. In the middle was a bed. White, clean, fluffy, airy. He led me over to the bed and began to undress me. He shone all over. He had such an amazing smile, like his whole life he’d only seen kind things and had dealings with kind people.
He undressed me naked and put me in bed. He covered me with a blanket and sat down next to me.
He sat there and looked at me, holding my hand. His eyes were blue, oh so blue, like water.
He held my hand, then he put it under the covers and said, “Khram, my sister. You must rest.”
But I felt so good. My whole body was singing. I said, “What do you mean? I slept the whole way, like a broody hen! I’m not the least bit sleepy now.”
He said, “You have used a good deal of energy. You have a new life ahead of you. You must prepare for it.”
I wanted to argue with him, to say, I’m not at all tired. But then exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed me, as though I’d been hauling sacks or something. I fell into a deep sleep straightaway.
I came to: Where was I?
It was the same room, the same bed. The sun was blazing in through a crack in the curtains.
I slid off the bed and went to the window. I pulled back the curtain: oh my goodness gracious, what a beautiful sight! There were mountains all around. They didn’t have any forest covering them, they were naked, covered only in snow. And they reached to the sky. They were all blue. And the sky, it was right up close.
And there wasn’t a soul in these mountains.
I suddenly needed to piss bad. Then I remembered what woke me up! I dreamed that I was a baby wrapped in diapers. And some strange person was holding me on his knees. I want to piss so bad. I have to ask, so I don’t wet him. But I don’t know any words yet! And there I am in my diapers, squirming and thinking, how do you say, “I want to piss?” That’s when I woke up.
And I needed to go so bad it was as if I’d done nothing but drink water for days. But I didn’t know where to go. I went and opened the door. There was a hallway. I walked out and along it, thinking maybe there’s a bucket around somewhere. Then I saw a staircase going down, a pretty wood one with carved pinecones. I walked a few steps down and looked around — there were all sorts of doors. I pushed against one of them — it wasn’t locked. I entered.
There were three couples on their knees, embracing. Naked. And silent.
No one even glanced at me.
As soon as I saw them I remembered everything that had happened in the train. I suddenly felt so good that I couldn’t hold it anymore and pissed all over myself. It flooded out of me onto the floor. There was so much — it poured and poured! I just stood there and watched them, and everything went kind of blurry. And the puddle reached all the way over to them! I wasn’t ashamed at all — I froze there as if I was made of stone, it was good, no energy to move. I stared at them like they were sweets in a candy shop, that was all. They were standing in my urine! And they didn’t budge!
Then someone called out behind me.
“Khram!”
I came to my senses — it was a woman. She spoke to me, but the language was strange — I sort of understood the words separately, but together it was hard. It wasn’t Ukrainian or Belarusian. And it wasn’t Polish. In the camps I understood Polish.
The woman took me by the hand and led me somewhere. Naked, I walked behind her, the wet soles of my feet slip-slapping along.
She brought me to a huge room that was covered with sparkling stones. In the middle of the room was a tub — all white — filled with water. The woman unwound the bandage from my chest and took the cotton off the wound. Then she pulled me toward the tub. I got in and lay down. The water was warm and pleasant.
Then another woman came in. They began to wash me as they would an infant. They washed me all over, then told me to stand up. I stood up. There was this metal plate above my head. And this plate suddenly began to pour water on me, like a little rain shower. It was so wonderful! I just stood there laughing.
Then they dried me off. They put a new bandage on my wound. They sat me down on a stool with a cushion and rubbed sweet-smelling stuff all over me. When I was rubbed down, they combed my hair and wrapped me up in a soft robe. They picked me up like a sack and carried me off.
They brought me to an enormous room. There were all kinds of wardrobes and cabinets, and in the middle there were three mirrors, and a little table right next to them that was covered with little bottles. It smelled of perfume. They sat me down at that table, and I could see myself in three mirrors at once. Good lord! Was that really me? I’d turned into someone completely different over the last weeks. I don’t know what happened — either I’d gotten older, or smarter, but the only thing left of the old me was my hair and eyes. It was even kind of scary...But what could I do about it? At times like these my late grandfather used to say, “Live and don’t be afraid of anything.”
First they
cut my hair. They gave me a pretty hairdo, and put some smelly stuff on it. Then they trimmed the nails on my hands and feet. Then they evened my nails out with this little file. Just like you do with horses’ hooves, when you shoe them! I could barely keep from laughing, but I realized: this is Germany!
Afterward the women began dressing me: they slipped off the robe and started pulling all kinds of clothes out of the wardrobes and chests of drawers: dresses, underclothes, and brassieres. They laid them out. Everything was so pretty, clean, white!
First they measured me for the brassiere. My titties were still little. They chose the smallest bra and put it on me. Lord almighty! In our village even the grown women never wore brassieres, never mind the girls! I’d only seen these brassiere things in Zhizdra and in Khliupin in the village store where they sell dresses and bolts of dress fabric.
Then they put white drawers on me. Short, pretty ones, like on a doll. Then they hooked stockings onto the drawers. And right over it all — a short white slip. Oh, what a slip. Covered in lace and smelling of sweet perfumes! Everything was beautiful — no doubt about it. Over that they put on a blue dress with a white collar. Then they started picking out shoes. When they opened the boxes I took a look. Oh my goodness! Not ankle boots, not boots at all, but honest-to-god shoes, all patent-leather shiny! They brought me three boxes to choose from. My head almost began spinning. I pointed with my finger — and they put the shoes on my feet. Shoes with heels!
They painted my lips and powdered my cheeks. They hung a string of pearls around my neck. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror — I even squeezed my eyes shut! A real beauty stood there in front of me, not Varka Samsikova!
They took me by the hand and led me on. We went downstairs.
Downstairs there was another enormous room, made of stone. It had a huge table. The people who met me the night before were sitting around it. Only they weren’t in uniform, they were in regular clothes. Everyone was eating. The food was pretty, all kinds.
They sat me down at my place. Everyone smiled at me, like family. That old man, Bro, said, “Khram, you are our sister, share our repast with us. The rules of our family are to eat nothing living, neither boil nor fry food, neither cut nor pierce it. For all of these things violate its Cosmos.”
Ice Trilogy Page 43
