The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman #1)

The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman #1) Page 38

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Tatiana was in the hallway when she heard Dasha, Alexander, Marina, Mama, and Babushka all arguing heatedly inside the room. She was about to open the door and walk in with the tea when she heard Alexander say, “No, no, you cannot tell her. This is not the time.”

And Dasha’s voice spilled through the crack in the door. “But, Alexander, she is going to have to know eventually—”

“Not now!”

“What’s the point?” said Mama. “What does it matter? Tell her.”

Babushka said, “I agree with Alexander. Why weaken her now when she needs her strength?”

Tatiana opened the door. “Tell me what?”

Everyone fell mute.

“Nothing, Tanechka,” Dasha said quickly, glaring at Alexander, who lowered his gaze and sat down.

Tatiana was holding the tray of teacups, saucers, spoons, and a small teapot. “Tell me what?”

Dasha’s face was streaked with tears. “Oh, Tania,” she said.

“Oh, Tania, what?” said Tatiana.

No one said anything. No one even looked at her.

Tatiana looked from her grandmother to her mother to her cousin to her sister and stopped on Alexander, who was smoking and looking at his cigarette. Someone lift your eyes to me, Tatiana thought.

“Alexander, what don’t you want them to tell me?”

He raised his eyes. “Your grandfather died, Tania,” he said. “In September. Pneumonia.”

The tray with the teacups fell from Tatiana’s hands, and the cups broke on the wood floor, and the hot tea spilled on her stockings. Tatiana knelt on the floor and picked up all the shards without saying a word to anyone, which was just as well, because no one could say a word to her. And then she put all the broken pieces on the tray, picked the tray up and went back out to the kitchen. As she was closing the door, she heard Alexander say, “Happy now?”

Dasha and Alexander came out to the kitchen, where Tatiana was standing next to the window, numbly grasping the sill. Dasha went to Tatiana and said, “Honey, I’m sorry. Come here.” She hugged Tatiana and whispered, “We all adored him. We are all devastated.”

Tatiana hugged her sister back and said, “Dasha, it’s a bad sign.”

“No, Tanechka, it isn’t.”

“It’s a bad sign,” Tatiana repeated. “It’s as if Deda died because he couldn’t bear to see what was about to happen to his family.”

Both girls looked at Alexander, who stood nearby watching them and said nothing.

The next morning Alexander and Tatiana walked in silence to the ration store and waited in silence for their bread. When they were outside by the Fontanka Canal, Alexander stuck his hand into his coat pocket and said, “I have to go back up tomorrow, Tania. But look. Look what I brought you.” He held a small bar of chocolate. She took it from him and managed a weak smile. Her eyes filled up.

Alexander took hold of Tatiana’s hand and said soothingly, patting his chest, “Come here.”

She stood for a long time — her face pressed into Alexander’s chest, his arms around her — and cried.

Anton’s leg was not getting better. Anton was not getting better.

Tatiana brought him a piece of Alexander’s chocolate. Anton ate it, but listlessly.

She sat by his bed. They didn’t speak for a while.

“Tania,” he said, “remember summer before last?” His voice was weak.

“No,” said Tatiana. She only remembered last summer.

“In August when you came back from Luga, me, you, Volodya, Petka, and Pasha played soccer in Tauride Park? You wanted the ball so much, you kicked my shin to get it? I think it was the same leg.” A faint smile passed over Anton’s face.

“I think you’re right,” Tatiana said quietly. “Shh, Anton.” She took his hand. “Your leg will heal, and maybe next summer we’ll go to Tauride Park and play soccer again.”

“Yes,” he said, squeezing her hand and closing his eyes. “But not with your brother. Or my brothers.”

“Just you and I, Anton,” whispered Tatiana.

“Not even me, Tania,” he whispered back.

They’re waiting for you, Tatiana wanted to say to him. They’re waiting to play soccer with you again.

And with me.