Marusia fled, trembling, her pulse beating wildly. She wanted to get as far away from Lukeria Philipovna as she possibly could. As she paused by a lamp post to catch her breath, she was relieved to see her good friend Nadia walking out of a nearby lane. The two girls had graduated together from the gymnasium and had talked about moving to Minsk and studying at the university there. Marusia greeted her friend happily and went to kiss her on both cheeks as was the custom, but Nadia drew back, murmuring nervously and hurriedly, “Uh, I’m in a great rush today, Maria Valentynovna. I can’t talk. Good-bye!” She made off quickly without looking back.
Marusia was so shaken she was scarcely able to move. Her best friend had just shunned her; everything in her life had come crashing down. She was overcome with a bitter loneliness such as she had never felt before. Her head bent, she drifted slowly along the sidewalk until she came to a row of small shops. She stopped before Radion Smushka’s grocery store and peered through the window. Smushka had always had the best selection of rolls and breads and the tempting smell of pickles and smoked sausages always wafted from his doors. But now the shop, like all the others along this stretch, was dark and empty. Smushka had only one daughter, who, Marusia remembered, had been married off during the winter to some minor government official. Shortly after their wedding, the two were arrested one night by the secret police. No one knew whether they were alive or dead. As Marusia stood before the window, she was startled to see a man come out of the shop door. It was Radion Smushka. Looking at her with deep hatred, he spat between his feet, and disappeared into his shop, slamming the door behind him.
Marusia burst into tears. She felt shattered and powerless and in her heart there was indescribable pain. It seemed to her that she was being punished and that this punishment was pressing down upon her and suffocating her. And about Sergei?
Drawing a deep breath, Marusia walked on. The air was warm, but she felt strangely cold and could not get the damp smell of the closed shops out of her nostrils. Before she knew it she came to Market Square, which was filled with people under a sea of red flags. As she edged past a group of Komsomol members shouting to each other in Russian, suddenly a familiar figure emerged from the crowd and started toward her. It was her godmother, Olga Nikolayevna. The girl hadn’t seen her for quite some time and she was delighted to encounter a smiling face.
“Ach, Marusia.” The godmother gave the girl a hearty embrace. “Let me have a good look at you. I can’t believe it, is it really you? How grown up you are! How beautiful! I’m so terribly glad to see you.” She squeezed the girl’s arm painfully hard, her eyes welling with tears. “Marusia, you’ve got to help me, I beg you. My sister and her family have just been arrested. Please, Marusia, you’ve got to do something, I know you have influence. Maybe if you gave him a good word, if you know who I mean, he’d listen to you. Please, Marusia, talk to him. I beg you, for the sake of the children.”
Marusia was filled with dread. “What do you mean by him?”
“Why, your lover, of course. Sobakin. You’re my last resort. Please, Marusia, please help me.”
Marusia drew away from her. “My lover? He’s not my lover. We went out only once, but now it’s over. I was wrong about him, I made the biggest mistake of my life. Can’t you understand that? Why can’t anybody understand that? I despise him! He’s nothing to me! Nothing!”
Olga Nikolayevna replied with cold triumphant hatred, “My, my, what a fancy lady you are now, why, one could easily mistake you for a Muscovite. And what have you really become? An NKVD man’s whore.” The woman wanted to say more, but for some reason held her tongue, turned and walked away, all the while muttering venomously under her breath.
Marusia shook; she was helpless against a flood of tears. Completely losing her head, she began to run away from the square. But she could not get away from the emptiness surrounding her. She had made one bad mistake, which she regretted with all her heart, and now because of this, her entire existence was dissolving before her eyes, and she wondered in agony what was to become of her. The simple-hearted geniality of the townspeople was gone for good, and their once forgiving and gentle eyes now crushed her with loathing and contempt. Marusia wanted to bury herself in some deep, dark hole and forget about everything.
CHAPTER 25
A heavy black cloud had fallen over Marusia’s house; she and her parents lived in gloomy solitude. No friends came to visit, neighbors no longer stopped to chat, and passersby pointed their fingers and whispered, “The girl who’s taken up with Sobakin, the crudest and most brutal NKVD man in all of Pinsk, lives in that house. May she rot in Hell!”
Everyone avoided the Bohdanovich house like the plague.
Marusia no longer ventured into the city center or even took walks in her own neighborhood. She stayed in her own back yard, where for hours at a time she sat on a bench under an apple tree, reading or writing in her journal. At least there she found a haven.
One evening when the sun was setting, she decided to go out into the garden and catch a breath of air. She sat on a bench and noticed that along the low fence, there was a bed of geraniums that seemed to be drooping and pale. As she looked at them, wondering if she should fetch them some water, suddenly there came a loud, harsh voice from over the fence. It was Sobakin.
“Good evening,” he called out, a strange and contorted smile upon his face. “What a wonderful night. Perfect to just sit and dream.”
Revulsion and contempt surged through her. But for some reason she did not feel afraid. She continued to sit there, unmoving.
“What’s wrong with you today, Marusia? Aren’t you going to chase me off the way you always do?”
Before she could do or say anything, Sobakin stepped over the fence, and sat down beside her. He lit up a makhorka cigarette.
Marusia felt a spasm in her chest. There was only one thing on her mind and she could not contain herself. Even her parents had heard that people had seen Sergei dragging himself out of the prison. “What did you do to my cousin? Why did you beat him?”
Sobakin shrugged. “Cousin? What cousin?”
“Sergei Stepanovich Viter, the schoolteacher from Hlaby.”
“Sergei Stepanovich? Oh, yes, yes, Sergei. I remember him now. Apparently he was called into the Zovty Prison and interrogated without my knowledge. Yes, that’s how it happened. I must apologize on behalf of my creatures. They’re probably the ones responsible. I had no idea.”
“Creatures?” The girl raised her brows. “What creatures are you talking about?”
“Why, the riffraff of the secret police. They’re all just a bunch of hooligans, low-lifes, if you know what I mean. They give the NKVD a bad name. Unfortunately, I can’t control everything and be everywhere at once. Let me assure you it won’t happen again. Soviet law prohibits beatings of any kind, especially by the police. What happened to your cousin had to be an isolated incident. In any case, I’ll look into it.” Then narrowing his eyes, “Did Sergei complain to you?”
The girl turned pale and bit her lip. “No, he didn’t say a word. I happened … um—to hear from someone who saw him coming out of the prison.”
There was a constrained silence. Finally Sobakin started up again. “As I was saying, Marusia, this is a terrible misfortune and it will not happen again. I give you my word of honor.”
“Your word of honor?” shouted the girl. “And what do you do in the Zovty Prison, Lieutenant? Let me tell you what you do. You arrest innocent people, you throw them into the dungeon, you beat them and torture them, you even kill them!”
“Marusia, Marusia.” Sobakin laughed a little. “You’re working yourself up into a fit. In fact, you’re becoming hysterical. Calm down. I assure you, the Soviet government is doing all it can to establish peace and stability. Naturally, a few people get arrested now and then, but this is completely normal. Our government is merely looking out for the best interests of its citizens. I’m sure you’ll agree, there isn’t a nation on earth that doesn’t take measure
s to deal with its criminals.”
“Criminals!” Marusia shouted at him. She felt she might kill him. “What crimes did my cousin Sergei ever commit? Is the daughter of Radion Smushka a criminal? And what about her husband? Where are they now? What’s become of them? And what about my godmother’s family—are they criminals too? Even their six-year-old daughter? What are the charges against them? Tell me! Tell me!”
Sobakin began to show signs of annoyance. He said through clenched teeth, “The innocent we set free.”
But Marusia would not stop. “Why don’t you just tell me the truth? You’re a liar! A murderer and a liar!”
Sobakin looked at her coldly. “You’re a very stupid girl, Marusia Valentynovna. If you keep on like this, you’ll find yourself in a pot of boiling water. You don’t understand the first thing about Communism. Allow me to explain it. Actually, it’s very simple: if a farmer wants a good crop, he has to sow only the best seed, but first he must separate it from the chaff. Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin, the greatest architect of socialism, is this country’s ‘farmer’, so to speak—like the farmer, he wants to produce only the best. It’s with his help and only with his help that we’ll build the perfect society. Generations to come will thank us for our work …”
“You freed us from Polish oppression, that’s true. But now the shops have disappeared and the markets are empty… Why is that? What are you doing?”
Sobakin said sharply, “Marusia, you’re young and naïve and you’re walking a very fine line. I suggest you acquaint yourself with the proletariat movement, so you can understand how it works.” He took a long, deep drag on his makhorka. “In the meantime I would watch my tongue if I were you. A word of advice: before you start criticizing something, you should really have a better understanding of what it is you’re criticizing. Believe me, in time when the people get accustomed to the new order, they’ll learn to appreciate everything that’s being done.”
“And what about my brother? You promised to bring my brother from Lvov. Where is he?”
Sobakin smiled and lit another cigarette. His voice became softer and more friendly. “I’ve been trying to help your brother for quite some time. As a matter of fact, he’s one of my top priorities. If only you knew what I’ve gone through on his behalf: I’ve conferred with my contacts in Lvov, I’ve made innumerable phone calls, I’ve even written letters.” He moved a little closer, and whispered to her, “Marusia, I have some surprising news. Brace yourself. Your brother is going to get married.”
“Married?” echoed the girl, astonished. She turned toward Sobakin, and stared at him. Was he telling the truth? She thought that if she could only see his eyes, they would tell her everything. But the sun was setting over the houses and it was growing dark.
Sobakin went on more soberly. “Unfortunately, it appears there’s a problem with your brother’s engagement. His fiancée, whose name is Oriska, is the daughter of a Ukrainian nationalist—in other words, a counterrevolutionary. Lonia has gone a bit too far by getting involved with this girl. From my end, I’m doing all that I possibly can to help him out of this mess.”
“Lonia, mixed in with counterrevolutionaries? I can’t believe it!” Marusia caught her breath, and burst out loudly, “Why are you doing this? Why are you making things up? You’re just stringing me along! For what purpose?”
Sobakin grimaced. “Maybe it’s better that you don’t believe me. After all, it’s not a pleasant thing to face up to. But soon you’ll see that I’m being truthful. Your brother is planning to come home for the summer holidays, and then he’ll tell you everything himself.”
Sobakin sounded so self-assured and so in control that Marusia became uncertain. What if there was a chance he was telling the truth? What if Lonia really was coming home? She was so desperate to see her brother again that she was willing to believe anything. Drawing a deep breath, she put all her suspicions aside, and stealing a glance at him, made herself believe that he was telling her the truth.
But a second later, everything changed again. He was sliding closer to her, slipping his arm around her back, breathing heavily. When she caught a whiff of drink on his breath, she pushed at him, crying, “Get away from me and stay away from me! You make me sick! You’re a drunk and a liar! I hate you. And why don’t you ever clean your teeth?”
As he continued to grope her, Efrosinia came running out of the house, shouting, waving a broom. “Get away from my daughter right now or I’ll bash your head in!”
Sobakin, taken aback, jumped to his feet. “Mamasha.” He spread his arms in self-defense. “Marusia and I were simply having ourselves a little chat. You shouldn’t get so excited. It’s not good for your blood pressure.” Straightening his shirt collar, looking very perturbed, he flung himself around and hurried back to his yard.
Marusia burst into tears. “Oh, Mother, he touched me. I feel horrible, just horrible.”
“Calm down, dear child, calm down.” Efrosinia took her daughter in her arms and hugged her until her body stopped shaking. When Marusia finally regained herself, they went back into the house. In a corner of the living room, dim lamplight cast long, muted shadows over the walls, and from the window the pale moonlight struggled through the half-closed curtains.
Valentyn lay on the sofa in his pajamas, dozing. When he heard the women enter, he slipped his arm under his head and without looking up, gave a prolonged yawn. He crooned as if to himself, “Ah, here is my daughter, at last, my devoted daughter. And what has she gone and done? She’s rolled to the very edge. I could hear Sobakin and her cooing from outside the window, like a pair of doves.” Stressing every syllable, he went on as though she wasn’t there. “My daughter’s head has been turned by a lieutenant from the secret police. She’s completely lost her senses. And now we’ve got nothing but trouble.”
He stroked his beard, and looked directly at Marusia. “Didn’t I tell you Ivan Kulik would have been a better match? Didn’t I tell you? Ivan’s a decent, intelligent young man, and one of our own. Why couldn’t you just listen to me?”
Marusia shot back hotly, “Don’t talk to me about Kulik, Father. I told you a million times, I have no interest in him. Why don’t you just leave me alone once and for all? Why must you always attack me?”
Valentyn smiled ironically. “Don’t you have a few things confused, daughter? It’s Sobakin who’s always attacking you, not I. From what I see, he can’t seem to keep his hands off you.”
Efrosinia quickly jumped in. “Stop it, old man! Stop it right now! Leave Marusia alone. You’re only making her more miserable than she already is. And what good will it do? She’s learned her lesson all too well and now she has to find a way to deal with the consequences. We all do.”
She grabbed her daughter’s hands, and pressed them tightly to her breast. She whispered, “Is there any news of Lonia? Did Sobakin say anything to you?”
“Oh, Mother! He’s a liar; he’s been lying all along. Every word of his is nothing but a lie! He says that Lonia is getting married, but you can’t believe a thing he says.”
Efrosinia turned white. She buried her head in her hands and wept quietly, her small, thin frame shaking. “Lonia, Lonia, my poor baby, what has become of you? Are you healthy or are you ill? Are you alive or are you dead?”
She rocked back and forth, growing increasingly restless. Then she looked at her husband and it was clear something was beginning to set her off. “Did you hear, old man? Did you hear what your daughter just said? Were you even listening? Lonia is still in Lvov and he’s not coming home after all. Well, what have you got to say about that? And better yet, what do you plan to do about it?”
Valentyn scrambled to his feet, and as fast as his old legs could carry him, made for the kitchen door, calling out, “Don’t start on me again, old woman. I know exactly what you’re aiming for. Your nagging is going to be the death of me yet.”
Efrosinia caught his arm. “You’re not going to get away from me so easily this time, and you know perfectly
well what I mean. You’ll go to get Lonia if it’s the last thing you do. First thing tomorrow you’ll go to the train station and buy yourself a ticket to Lvov. Then you’ll get on that train and bring Lonia home. If you don’t, I swear, I’ll set the house on fire, I’ll hang myself, but I’ll murder you first.”
Efrosinia’s excitement grew increasingly intense. She went on for several minutes more; suddenly her voice faltered and broke. She sank into an armchair opposite the sofa, and sat unmoving, her face buried in her hands. Finally she turned gloomily to her daughter. “Oh, Marusia, what’s happening to our family? Will we ever see Lonia again? My little boy, what’s become of you? My poor little boy.”
She shook her head and said to Marusia in bewilderment, “And you, what am I to do with you? Come here, let me take a good look at you. My, my, how you’ve grown. You’re not a child anymore, you’ve become a beautiful young woman, too beautiful for your own good. If I were even half as beautiful as you when I was young, do you think I would have ended up with your father? Not in a million years! Look at him, he’s become glued to that broken-down sofa of his. And that stupid beard he’s decided to grow—it makes him look like an old goat! My word, if things had been different, I would have found myself a handsome government official or maybe even an officer in the army. But in my day officers and officials were different, they were honorable and respectable, not like today. Today, oh, God, they’re nothing more than vultures, raping and stealing wherever they go. Bandits, all of them!”
Listening to her mother go on, the color drained from Marusia’s face as if something had just occurred to her. Her single thought was of her cousin, Sergei. She cried out: “Oh, no! Sergei! Good Lord, what did I do? What did I do? I made a mess of things. Mother, I accused Sobakin of beating Sergei in prison, and I accused him straight to his face! Now he’ll finish Sergei off for sure. I had to go and open my big mouth. When will it all end? When will it all end? May God help Sergei!”
Wave of Terror Page 30
