Vita Nostra

by Marina Dyachenko

  How much of a problem was Mom’s visit?

  Actually, it was not that threatening. Not that Sasha could see. Sasha did not break a single rule dictated by Kozhennikov. Maybe only her session with Sterkh… Sterkh always makes the schedule himself, and hates it when students shuffle things around. But then Sterkh does not normally write reports because of small indiscretions. Sasha would explain the situation to him; it was a force majeure, a special circumstance, after all.

  She did the right thing by leading Mom away from the Institute. But theoretically, what would Mom see there? What sort of compromising thing? Limping, wretched-looking second years? But don’t cripples have rights to higher education?!

  The Institute was encased in a thick layer of informational cotton-wool, and in two years Sasha had had plenty of chances to be sure of that. A protective layer of stable living conditions, tangible provincial mediocrity. A casual bystander wouldn’t see anything suspicious. Just like Kostya’s mother came for his wedding and saw nothing unusual. Students, lectures, exams. Love, the wedding. The difficulty of getting the superintendent to assign a room to the newlyweds. Striped mattresses in dorm rooms. A student dining hall…

  Gradually, thickening with every year, the same informational vacuum enveloped everyone who ended up here for a long period of time. It was simple, ordinary, provincial: “A student in Torpa.” And no one cared. The world is full of someone’s acquaintances and relatives who exist—and yet they don’t. People don’t write or call for years, and no one really cares, but they do exist—somewhere.

  Sasha drew a deep breath. Mom came—this was out of character; no one expected this turn of events. Of course, there was nothing tragic about it…

  But Mom had to return home tonight!

  She waited. Kostya was with Sterkh in the fourteenth auditorium. She hoped his session was going well… the first session this year. Kostya took off immediately, without asking questions, just took off at a run—to cover for Sasha.

  But what about Mom?

  Sasha squeezed the pink phone in her hand. She could see the street out of the round window: if Mom decided to sneak out of Sasha’s loft and turn up at the Institute to hold some sort of an inspection, Sasha would notice.

  A minute before her—or Kostya’s—official time slot, she went down to the auditorium. Kostya came out; Sasha scrutinized his face, trying to discern: were things normal? Good? Did everything work out?

  Kostya was smiling:

  “Everything is fine.”

  “Thank you,” Sasha whispered gratefully and, holding onto the phone case on her chest, she entered the auditorium:

  “Good afternoon, Nikolay Valerievich, I apologize for rescheduling, it’s my fault, there are circumstances…”

  “Calm down, Sasha, no need for such excitement…. It’s all perfectly fine, Kostya and I had a terrific session. Just don’t do it again. What happened?”

  Sasha sat down and laced her fingers together:

  “My Mom came to Torpa.”

  Sterkh raised the eyebrows. His triangular face remained impassive, but Sasha could tell right away that her news made a much bigger impression that she anticipated.

  “She’s leaving tonight,” she rushed to say. “I’ll take her to the station.”

  “But… why, do you know?”

  “We had a fight in the summer, before I went back. She… Well, I convinced her to change her mind, at least I think so, but she really wanted me to drop out, to transfer,” Sasha lowered her eyes.

  “Why did she come—for what, exactly? Did she tell you?”

  “She wants to make sure that I haven’t been involved with some religious cult,” Sasha admitted after a pause.

  “It is strange,” Sterkh said pensively. “Are you two very close?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean… it’s different… it used to be. She got married, had a baby…”

  “I know. Sasha, there is no reason to worry and no reason to upset her. You can introduce her to Oleg Borisovich, to me… to other professors. Give her a tour of the Institute. But the sooner she goes back home, the better it will be for her and for you.”

  “Right,” Sasha said. “Nikolay Valerievich… I have one more question.”

  “Yes?”

  “What is a verb in the subjunctive mood?”

  “Do you have a young man named Yegor Dorofeev in mind?”

  Sasha sat up straight.

  “Yes.”

  Deep in thought, Sterkh touched his sharp chin:

  “It is a fairly rare specialization. All verbs are extremely valuable, but the subjunctive mood has its own specific nature. When it comes to Speech, it specifies projecting structures that unfold a fan of possibilities. You and Yegor are no longer together, am I correct?”

  Sasha frowned:

  “Is that important?”

  Sterkh stretched, rearranging his folded wings:

  “You don’t think that is any of my business? Just as you wish. Let us repeat the step-by-step inner transformations…”

  “Yes, we broke up,” Sasha said through gritted teeth. “And so we have nothing in common any longer.”

  “You are on edge,” Sterkh sighed. “You are worried about the situation with your mother. Fine, let us continue this discussion. Verbs in the subjunctive mood are very vulnerable. The uncertainty of such verbs… Sometimes—during the formative period—a person like that, especially a young person, may become a shadow of another verb. A verb in the imperative mood. The imperative entity leaves imprints, the subjunctive entity accepts them. Like stamps and sealing wax, like molds and putty, like two DNA strands… Thus, the subjunctive entity lives and acts the way the imperative entity wants it to, whether consciously or subconsciously.”

  Sasha’s jaw dropped.

  “I said ‘may become,’ I did not say “that is what always happens.’ But this much is certain: the boy fell in love with you when you needed it, and broke up with you when it was necessary for you.”

  “I didn’t want him to break up with me! It’s just the opposite, it was important that he stay with me! Because at that moment…”

  “I understand perfectly. You did not want him to. But you needed for him to break up with you. You had to be alone.”

  Sasha was silent for a long time. Sterkh did not rush her; he leafed through his daily planner, rubbing his chin.

  Only a year ago Sasha may have had a breakdown over such news. She would have tried to not believe it. She would have surrendered to despair.

  Now she found herself perfectly calm. As if everything Sterkh was talking about she knew or had predicted in advance.

  “Nikolay Valerievich. Are you sure I influenced Yegor?”

  “I am not sure,” Sterkh looked her in the eyes. “But I cannot exclude such a possibility.”

  “Is this… Will this have an impact on his fate?”

  “He’s long been removed from under your influence. I spoke with his Introduction to Applied Science professor, she consulted with me. He is a talented but a very complex student. Unfortunately he is not particularly diligent. He needs to study harder; he missed a lot during his first year.”

  “He will study,” Sasha said firmly. “I will talk to him.”

  ***

  Mom sat at the table, half-turned to the window, at the same place where Sasha loved to spend her evenings. The cardboard silhouette of Mom’s face stood out against the background of pink sunset.

  Sasha stood still. For a second she thought that Mom was a wax sculpture placed in front of the window. Even her eyes appeared dull and immobile.

  “Mom?”

  Mom turned her head.

  “It’s so beautiful here… the pavement, these buildings… the lanterns are so picturesque. Did you have your class?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The usual student stuff. Textbooks, notes… let’s go downstairs to the café and get some food.”

  “I am not hungry. I had some tea, washe
d my cup… You are so good, everything looks so neat. Such a nice apartment,” Mom spoke looking at Sasha—and at the same time not seeing her.

  “Did you call home?”

  “Yes… Everything is fine, but it’s hard for Valentin, obviously. He has some issues at work, he’s missed quite a few days, and taking time off right now is not very convenient. And I feel so anxious…”

  Sasha took the plunge:

  “You should go home tonight. I will take you to the station.”

  “Sasha…”

  “You came to see how I live and where I go to school, right? Well, now you have seen that I live well, and I study like any normal student. Or are you planning a full inspection?”

  “Sasha…” Mom faltered.

  “Let’s not fight anymore,” Sasha said firmly. “Forget everything I said, it’s all nonsense, and it’s just words. You should go tonight, otherwise… who knows what could happen while they are at home by themselves.”

  Mom took a deep ragged breath. Not letting her say another word, Sasha picked up her overnight bag:

  “Let’s go. It takes time to get to the station, then we have to get you a ticket…. Get some supper at the café…”

  Sad but determined, Mom shook her head:

  “Sasha, I made a decision. You are coming with me.”

  Sasha dropped her bag on the floor:

  “You know, I am a student here. I have classes tomorrow!”

  “Who are you trying to deceive?” Mom asked gently. “Your endless and very complex studies, additional lectures, even in the summer… For what? To prepare you for teaching philosophy at some vocational school?”

  Sasha found herself at a loss.

  She had an unshakeable belief in the informational “fog” surrounding the Institute and everything connected to it. Mom’s calm logic left her unarmed in the middle of the playing field.

  “Sasha, I bear all the guilt here. But you are my daughter, and I am not leaving you here. I don’t know what is going on here, but I feel that something is wrong. I don’t want you to have anything to do with Torpa. If it is necessary, I will find a lawyer. Or a doctor. Or… if I need to, I will sell our apartment, I will withdraw all our money from the saving account, but if you are in trouble—I will help you!”

  The pink phone on Sasha’s neck rang sharply.

  She had never heard its ringtone before. “This old granny had two jolly geese…” It was loud, shrill, reedy.

  Mom stopped talking and looked at Sasha in surprise:

  “Answer it. What’s with you?”

  Everything had already happened. Everything just happened. Holding onto the edge of the bureau, Sasha lifted the phone to her ear:

  “Hello.”

  “Sasha! Sasha, it’s Valentin!”

  The screaming voice was full of terror.

  “Is your mother there? With you? I can’t get hold of her!”

  “She’s here,” Sasha said. At least she tried to say it.

  “Hello! Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. She’s here.”

  “Give her the phone!”

  Moving her dead fingers, Sasha pulled the pink cord off her neck and gave the phone to Mom.

  “Hello, Valentin? My battery went… What? What?!”

  Sasha clutched the bureau with both hands.

  “There were nine! I took one yesterday… yes… God, how could you… Nine, count them, there should be nine pills…”

  Mom choked. Her face went white in the light of the setting sun. Sasha shut her eyes.

  “Nine,” Mom exhaled. “Did you count them? Nine… I’m sure. Yes, I took one, I am positive. There were only nine. Are you sure? Oh god…”

  Mom caught her breath. Inhaled deeply—exhaled. And one more time. Valentin kept talking, rapidly, almost choking.

  “Calm down,” Mom said finally. “I’m leaving now. Relax, everything is fine. You can explain to the ambulance. It’s a lesson to both of us. I left it there… I just didn’t think he’d reach as high as the shelf. It’s all right, wait for me, I’ll be home in the morning… I love you.”

  The pink phone fell onto the bed. Mom sat down next to it and went limp like a snow pile in the spring:

  “The baby got hold of my sleeping pills. They are so brightly colored, you know, those pills… He tried to pluck them out, one after another. And then he put them in his mouth, but Valentin caught him. He did not know how many of the pills were in the jar, and he called the ambulance right away… The baby just didn’t have enough time to swallow any. Simply not enough time. It was sheer luck. I’m leaving, Sasha, leaving right now.”

  ***

  Sasha bought a compartment carriage ticket and refused to take money from Mom.

  At the station cafeteria they bought hot dogs, two portions of cabbage salad and a couple of pies that were still hot and smelled really good. Mom called home a couple more times using Sasha’s phone. Baby Valentin was doing great. The ambulance team reprimanded his father for being absent-minded and confirmed that the baby was just fine. “Shaken but unhurt,” Valentin made an attempt at light-hearted comments.

  Sasha and her mother came out of the waiting room toward the platform and sat down on a bench. The night was warm, filled with a cool wind and the scent of grass and moisture—an autumn and at the same time summer night.

  “How are you getting home? It’s so late…”

  “Cars go back and forth here,” Sasha said with as much confidence as she could master.

  “It must be expensive…”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine. Trust me, I’m all grown up!”

  Sasha made a feeble attempt at smiling.

  She was still shaking, and she tried to conceal the tremor. The fear refused to back down; everything was fine, Mom repeated every ten minutes, but the phone was still there, hanging from her neck, and the little stylized globe rotated on its display.

  The fear suspended over the universe. It’s impossible to live in the world where you exist. It is impossible to live in the world when I do not exist... Although it’s hard to resign oneself to my existence, I understand that.

  Crickets sang.

  A freight train rolled by drowning out all the sounds, but as soon as the roaring subsided, the crickets started up again.

  “You were right,” Mom said. “They need me. It is as if you knew. ‘Who knows what could happen while they are at home by themselves…’”

  Sasha looked down.

  “It looks like I jinxed them.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “But everything is fine now, right?” Sasha nervously touched the phone on her neck.

  “Everything is fine.”

  Forty minutes remained until the train’s departure. Mom spoke in short declarative sentences:

  “It is a very nice town. I didn’t expect it to be so old. It is strange that no one really knows about Torpa. Although there is a tourist center. I saw it, there is a tourist center, and the little shop sells landscape photos…”

  A local train arrived. The doors opened and women with large checkered bags came out, then an old man with a sheathed scythe. The train started and melted into the dark.

  The semaphore went green.

  Three bright lights came on in the darkness: the long-distance train was approaching the station.

  “Mommy,” Sasha whispered. “Don’t leave them alone for long. Don’t leave them alone at all. Stay with them, I will be fine. I… I will come and visit during the break.”

  The train stopped. The locks slid open with a grating sound, the doors opened one after another, and the train attendants stepped down onto the platform, pushing back the curious passengers:

  “Standing for five minutes! This stop is five minutes only! Don’t let children get off the train! Don’t go too far!”

  A man in sweatpants and a wife-beater looked around, inhaled deeply, murmured “Such air!” and immediately lit up a cigarette.

  Mom handed her ticket to a fat uniformed
train attendant, who nodded: “Come in… Seat number fifteen.”

  Sasha stepped inside with Mom. For one minute she dove into the smell, the life, the temporary nature of the train—but this time the train was somebody else’s, it was transitory, this ghostly, dream-like way of life was about to take off, and Sasha would remain here…

  They went back onto the platform and stopped not knowing what else to say.

  “Departing in one minute,” the train attendant rushed them. “Take your places.”

  Then Sasha hugged Mom’s neck just like she did when she was a little girl:

  “Mommy, I really, really love you.”

  The cursed pink phone, stuck between them, cut into Sasha’s chest.

  “The train is departing! Go back on the train!”

  They did not let go of each other’s hands. They could not let go.

  “Ma’am! The train is leaving.”

  “I love you,” Sasha whispered choking on her tears. “I love you… Good bye…”

  The train started moving. Sasha ran alongside it, waving, and for a long time she kept up with the train. Mom waved out of the open window in the corridor, and Sasha saw her hair flowing in the wind. The train gathered speed, Sasha ran faster, Mom leaned further out of the window, and kept waving, and shouted: “Good bye!”

  And then the platform ended.

  The windows of the moving train merged with the faces. The roaring was replaced by a distant noise. Sasha watched the train until she could no longer see the last of its lights.

  Then she walked over, moving her aching feet and sat down on the tracks.

  ***

  “Sasha?”

  The moon was high up in the sky. Farit Kozhennikov stood over Sasha.

  “It’s late. You have classes tomorrow. Shall we?”

  “Please, Farit… Leave me alone.”

  “You need to control yourself. You have to get back to town somehow, it’s very late and very cold. Let’s go.”

  He spoke so calmly and with such authority that Sasha could not resist. She got up and followed Farit, dragging her feet slightly. The heels of her shoes broke, the heel taps were lost. The shoes would have to be thrown away. No matter.

  Kozhennikov opened the door of his white Nissan for her. Sasha shrunk on the seat as usual.