On the right side of the road a village had been created with a long line of tents and haphazard structures four or five deep, all of which had appeared since the strike. Hundreds of women had come to either support loved ones or plead with them to give it up and survive at least. Some tents had chimneys that smoked idly. The women gathered in small groups, huddled over endless chores and conversation while standing in mud. All burdens were shared and no one was alone.
Pavel said, “We heard of the women’s village, but it was hard to imagine. So big! So many people.”
A loud slap on the driver’s window startled everyone inside. Arina’s face, pleading and shouting, looked into the car.
“Please stop! Please stop!” said Nina.
The car did not stop. Arina’s father glowered directly ahead without speaking. Nina opened the window and extended her hand and Arina took it. They squeezed each other’s hands as the car rolled on, Arina trotting beside.
“How’s Mama?” she asked.
“She’s fine.”
“Give her my love.”
“I will. Take care of yourself,” said Nina, as the speed increased and separated their hold on each other.
Arina shouted, “You too. I love you, Papa.” The words entered through the window and filled the car with discomfort.
Nina grasped Pavel’s hand and spoke to him. “Arina joined the trek when it came through Grand Forks.” Nina glanced at Uncle. “She was asked not to go, but she went with them to Vancouver. When the hunger strike started, the trek came to the prison. Arina helped them set the village up. She lives here now.”
Uncle said, “She’s made her choices.”
It was the last word. Uncle and Auntie were leavers, not to be trusted by the Sons of Freedom of the tent village, many of them from Krestova, and previously friends. The Orthodox community of Grand Forks were also suspicious of Uncle and Auntie because they had given a roof to Pavel before he was arrested. Pavel recalled this suspicion as the reason Nina had asked him not to go to Brilliant and suddenly felt embarrassed. Then Arina had joined the trek, against their wishes, and their daughter was lost to them. Uncle and Auntie lived on a thin edge of tolerance in Grand Forks only because of this sacrifice and Auntie’s role in ending the time in New Denver.
Some of the women of the tent village looked into the car as they passed by, curious to see Pavel and gauge the well-being of their own men, still inside, by his pallor. Others turned away to make their point. He had not been out an hour and had not travelled a mile into his new life and already, Pavel realized, the causes and sides people chose enclosed them like the chain-link fence or the walls of the prison he had just left. The causes and choices were so many that no one was free to move. Somehow, it seemed that being inside was an easier option. From the back seat, Pavel could see Nina’s uncle in the driver’s seat, reflected in the rear-view mirror. He was crying, but nothing would be done or said. No movement outside the choices made would be possible.
Pavel let time go by until they had reached the main road. “I’m sorry,” he said, loud enough to be heard in the front. Uncle tilted his head to glimpse Pavel in the mirror. “It’s kind of you to pick me up. I hope it doesn’t cause you trouble.” Uncle nodded, appreciating Pavel’s understanding. There would be trouble for this favour.
“I can’t stay with Auntie and Uncle, can I?” he said to Nina.
“No, you can’t. We’ve already thought about it. You can stay with me.” Nina’s words were plain and delivered with a tone of this having been decided. She paused long enough for it to sink in. “If I’m going to see you or be with you, neither of us can stay with them.” She waited for him to reply and when he did not, she said, “I have a little place where we can stay.” She watched him carefully. “You do want to stay with me?” It was the first time she had sounded in doubt of anything.
“Of course I do, but how will we live?”
“I have a job. You’ll get one too. It’s what other people do.”
It was simple for Nina, who saw the world clearly, and he allowed her optimism and bright eyes to see for both of them.
The trip to Grand Forks flashed by. The speed of Uncle’s car seemed extraordinary to someone who had been nearly stationary for so long. From time to time Pavel closed his eyes to escape the quickness of changing landscape. Nina insisted on opening the window in the back. It had caused his hair to flutter and the smells from fields to find their way into the car, blowing away any lingering scent of Mountain Prison.
His head filled with the machinations of being out. As they neared Grand Forks only the complexity of his situation was clear. Where was he placed among the fences and choices made by others? There was not much room for him to move. He was not Orthodox and not with the Sons of Freedom. Nina had fully joined him in this limbo, and now they would live together, which brought its own fears.
In the centre of Grand Forks, before the bridge, the car turned south off Central Avenue toward the Kettle River and stopped after a few streets. Nina said, “We’re here. This is my place … our place.” She was smiling and proud, as if nothing else mattered. “It’s around the side.”
Uncle straightened his body as he got out of the car and received Nina’s embrace. There was no one on the street to see the display of affection that might compromise any remaining trust in his commitment to a peaceful Orthodox life.
“Thank you,” she said and stepped away from her uncle.
Uncle extended his hand to Pavel, who took it firmly.
“Thanks again,” said Pavel. “I’m sorry to have caused you trouble. Not just today. You were kind to me and I should have been more grateful.”
Uncle said, “You can’t help being trouble. We’re all trouble to someone these days.”
Pavel thought for the first time that Uncle’s place in Nina’s life had been neglected. He said, “Do you mind this? Do we have your blessing?” He gestured to the door and the new life Nina had planned for them. “She’s your niece.”
“It’s not for me to mind. She wants to be with you, so it must be.” Uncle shrugged with helplessness. “Our women are stubborn as the men. That one won’t be stopped if she has something in her head.”
“I know,” said Pavel.
“Take care of each other. It’s all you have now. Each other and God.”
* * *
It was a simple arrangement, like a lean-to. Three walls tacked on the side of a single-storey house created a wooden space smelling of cedar and pencil shavings. The roof leaned under the eaves of the main house and extended past the outside wall, forming a small porch facing west. Inside, the house was divided into two rooms and a tiny bathroom. One room was a kitchen and the other a bedroom. A light bulb dangled in each space. Nina had acquired a melamine table with strip metal edges and chrome legs, and two yellow vinyl chairs. Not very Doukhobor, but it did not matter, just as it did not matter they were neither new nor matching.
In a drawer were two knives, two forks, two spoons and a pair of scissors. The top shelf of the cupboard had two plates, two cups and two bowls. The second shelf stored pots and pans. Below was a wooden box with an assortment of tools, a pair of pliers, hammer, short saw and assortment of screwdrivers, surely a parting gift from Uncle. A half-size fridge, humming and trembling, dominated one corner of the kitchen. Inside, it was stocked with enough to keep them going for a week or so. Without asking, Pavel knew the fridge, and the sewing box he had seen under the bed, would be a contribution from Nina’s aunt, who never failed to provide what was required from whatever she had. It made Pavel slump with the recollection of how good these people had been to him and how he had not returned that generosity.
Nina pulled the two vinyl chairs onto the porch and arranged them just right. “Sit with me,” she said. “The sun catches this spot.”
The evening sun shone red gold on their faces, and the stress of years began dr
aining from them.
Pavel exhaled a deep breath and kept his eyes shut against the light. “You’ve been thinking of doing this, haven’t you? You and me sitting here.”
“Yes, I have.” She smiled without opening her eyes. “What did you think about?”
“I tried not to think about outside too much. Keeping your head inside the walls is easier. Just like New Denver.”
“I’d forgotten,” she said.
“Do you ever think of the dormitory?” Pavel asked.
“Sometimes it comes, when I don’t expect it. I still don’t like swimming very much.”
“You nearly drowned sinking that flag.” They were both smiling. “That was so great.”
“Me drowning?”
“No, no, the flag. You were a hero. Everyone wanted to be like you.” Pavel stopped short of saying he had also wanted to be like her, to be brave and fight back as she had done. It had been this inspiration that had drawn him to Brilliant and to follow the commands of the Fraternal Council, but she could never know it.
“And you were the father, and took care of them,” said Nina. “You told stories at night, didn’t you?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Everyone knew,” Nina said.
For an instant Pavel was anxious of what else everyone knew.
“Let’s walk to the river.” She took his hand and tugged him off the porch.
“Why?”
“Because I want to,” she said, tugging him again. “Something else I’ve been thinking about.”
“Will we do everything you’ve thought about on my first day out?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not.”
They stepped from the porch and walked south, away from the town, between the trees and across the grassy flood plain to the stony edge of the Kettle River. Nina left shoes on the bank, rolled up her trouser legs and waded into the water. Then she turned to Pavel and waited in expectation. Like an old man he dragged his shoes off and stepped in. The sensation captured all of his attention and they began laughing. Suddenly he was young again.
The helplessness and inertia that come from confinement would not be an option for him. He understood this for certain. She would encourage and nurture him to discover that life could be good, and was starting by exposing him to sensations the earth could provide. Wind in his hair, sun on his face and the chill waters of the Kettle River on his feet were stirring his senses to feel joy again. How could she know to do this?
On the bank she picked up their shoes, then began walking toward town.
“Wait a minute!”
“Who needs shoes?” she said. “The grass will dry your feet.”
He ran to catch up with her and realized he was actually running—not like he used to as a boy, but still, he could jog. Up ahead, Nina moved like she was born to run. To his eye each step had balance and grace. Each movement flowed into the next with a languid ease. From the moment they had met in New Denver he could not stop looking at her.
At the porch, the last light was failing. Nina went inside and Pavel sat on a vinyl chair, hoping life with her would always feel like this. Nina appeared at the door.
“Are you coming in?” she asked.
“It’s been a good day. I don’t want it to end.” That was true, thought Pavel, but not completely true. As the sun set, apprehension of bedtime rattled him.
Nina said, “I’ll get ready for bed. I have work tomorrow. Don’t be long.”
There was time to think, but it would do no good, Pavel knew. This moment had been contemplated without resolution. He did not want Nina to know of Matron Cody, the things they had done and the deal that was struck. The only good thing about prison was it had delayed what Nina might learn about him and Matron Cody. She would know only if he told her, but he feared something uncovering him. Someone could know, just as they knew of his storytelling. Nina might simply be able to tell. It had no logic, but felt more likely than not.
The door opened and Nina emerged onto the porch. She wore a long, thin nightgown and was backlit by a single candle from inside. Without asking, she grasped his hand and turned to go in. He hesitated as he had done before following her to the river.
“Do you think I’m not frightened, like you?” she asked, her question sounding vulnerable. “Come on. Please. The sooner you come to bed, the sooner I can stop shaking.” Nina pulled him again and he followed.
She was shaking. Her trepidation distracted him momentarily. Hands touching lightly trembled together. Nina moved easily onto the bed and slipped under the sheet. He stopped at the edge and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. He recalled Matron Cody, her face painted and cast in blue light from a New Denver window. It had been the sureness of her every move and authority to justify it that had rendered him helpless and dogged his memory. Nina isn’t her! Even so, he feared the thoughts intruding on him and that Nina would read him like pages in a book.
Her face glowed warm in the light of the candle. She waived no authority, and nothing needed justifying. Her desire to join them together, however it could be done, was all that drove her. Nina watched him undo the buttons, her eyes appealing to him to share the need. Pavel wanted to feel it. She was beautiful, pure, inviting him to step into the water, but he was stained, and struggled to join her. The foreboding closed in on him as the buttons were undone. He hesitated to allow the shirt to fall.
“I want to fix something with you,” she said.
The horror of her knowing something stopped his breath. “What do you mean?”
“You must know what happened to some of the girls.”
His relief was immediate. “In the gym, on weekends. I heard things about girls having to play rough games with the staff. Basketballs being thrown at them and the touching that went on. It was rumours. We didn’t know if it was true.”
“It was true,” said Nina, acknowledging her place among the victims. “For every bad thing that happened to me in the gym, I want to make it better with you. Will you help me … make it better?”
Nina had thought about this too. A simple calculation to purge the memory of abuse had been constructed. She would overlay each bad memory with a good one as if it were as simple as laying a new rug over the damaged weave of an old one. Pavel thought it was as good an idea as any he had heard, and realized it was the only idea he had heard on the matter.
Nina diverted her gaze from his face to the shirt and back again. Her urgency in reaching for him, as his shirt dropped, surprised him, and he felt her desperation. She pulled him over the edge of the bed, unwilling to wait another moment to be chest to chest. Her breasts squeezed against him as if it would save them both from something.
“Wait, wait,” she said, and pushed him away before sitting up, lifting her nightgown over her head and discarding it. She drew him in again, dragging her breasts back and forth across his chest, as if to touch every part of him with every part of her. Her eyes closed and her body writhed against him, gripping one of his legs between hers and rolling back and forth.
He had never imagined her like this. The strength of her hold on him was fearsome, the intensity of her need infectious and compelling. The foreboding became lost in her passion and now his obligation to put it right. Whatever she needed, he would put it right.
* * *
Pavel lay in the dark with Nina tucked in the crook of his arm. It had been awkward and clumsy but as tender as their experience would allow. At least it was over, without trauma, and he had managed to keep thoughts of Matron Cody away for most of the time. Now he felt the bed softer than he was used to and his mind raced. The previous four years had begun to recede like a nightmare decaying from the moment one wakes. It would stay alive only if he worked to recall it and keep the details crisp. The alternative was to allow the memory to crumble, resist the recollection, the angry rehearsal of all that was unjust, and
simply let it go. As Nina had calculated, he would repair each painful recollection by overlaying it with one that was better.
This was the question Nina had asked, perhaps without knowing. It was an invitation, to start again, to leave the struggle and all that went with it. They might be happy living as independents, like the English Canadians. There was love and joy to find in things around them. God would be no less important. They could work and have a simple life. The sun would shine and the rivers would run just the same. It felt nearly right, if only he could let it go, and if only he deserved to be without obligation to the cause, whatever that had become.
It meant letting go of so much, but then here he was with Nina, away from the Sons of Freedom and shunned by the Orthodox people of his past. What was the purpose of holding memories if they no longer connected him to those people? For the first time he thought it might not be important to hang on to it all, except what, then, was the purpose of Harry being blown apart in the Chevy and Paul starving to death? It had to mean something.
Pavel shuffled gently out of bed and stepped onto the porch, hoping cool air might clear his head. The night was black as could be, and haunting sounds arrived from the woodland. His memory of New Denver, Krestova and Mountain Prison were each a crucifix of sorts. They were reminders of suffering, of Paul and Harry’s sacrifice for a cause he could not quite define beyond the injustice. Even so, his crucifixes were every bit as real to him as Jesus’s suffering was a reminder to Catholics of their faith. He tried to order his thoughts.
The Doukhobor tradition was clear. God should reside within people and not in icons of any kind. His people had rejected such objects centuries before, but it had not prevented other “icons,” like his crucifixes, from being created in their minds and held sacred among them. Was there a difference between a physical object and a memory, if their effect was the same? Both endure over time, both obstructed and distracted from the true way. There was no difference he could see.
Maybe, he thought, it was no longer an obligation for him to carry these icons in memory. He could remove them from sight and place them in a drawer. It was someone else’s task to hold that memory and keep that cause alive. He could be free to be with Nina, and not be responsible. Someone else would be.
The Kissing Fence Page 23
