Princess of Passyunk (35 page)

The cockroach waggled its antennae.

“Well,” he said.

The cockroach rose up on its rear legs in a way that was becoming eerily familiar.

“Now what?” he asked.

The cockroach said nothing.

“Hey, Ganny, time to go home!” Nick's voice preceded the sound of his footsteps as he returned to the stockroom.

As his shadow fell across the doorsill, Ganady scooped up the cockroach and slipped it into the empty box.

“Yeah. Great.” He flipped the lid of the box closed, tucking the edges under to seal it.

Nick nodded toward a large crate by the door. “You can just toss that box back into the keeper and finish filling the order tomorrow. I don't think we're even starting that job until Thursday.”

“Huh? Oh, no, I'm taking it home. It's...just the right size for...something I need a box for.”

Nick shrugged his indifference. “You take care of that bug?”

“Sure did,” Ganny said. He tucked the box under his arm and used his elbow to turn off the stockroom light.

oOo

It seemed to him that the cockroaches knew each other. When they met atop his dresser, to which he had transferred the new insect, it was with much touching of antennae and tapping of tiny front feet. He was gratified to see them so happy (if indeed cockroaches knew happiness) and wondered if somehow the rescue of this unfortunate put him any closer to finding Svetlana.

After dinner that evening he volunteered to help Mama and Baba clear, and when he and his grandmother were alone for a moment, he had intended to ask about what she and Mr. O meant to do, but what came out was, “What happened about Marija? After Sunday dinner, I mean. No one is talking about it.”

Baba Irina did not look at him, but kept washing the serving dishes, her hands working beneath the warm, soapy water. “Marija is a child. Her parents' child. She will do as her parents wish until she is an adult.”

“Duty?”

“Duty,” she agreed. “You shall honor your mother and father. But when she is grown, then she will decide for herself.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, she will go to mass as her parents wish.” She cast him a sideways glance with just a hint of sparkle in it. “And she will go with her old grandmother to shul.”

Ganady goggled. “How did you do that?”

“I? I did nothing. But my daughter also has a parent to honor.”

“Is Marija unhappy?”

“Does she seem unhappy?”

“Not really, just...very grown up.”

“Marija is resigned to patience.”

Ganady was much impressed with his younger sister—to be so patient in following her heart. It brought to mind the seeming impatience of his own heart.

“Is that what I should be? Resigned...to not finding Svetlana?” There, he had said it, and it had hurt just as much as he had thought it would.

Baba paused in her washing to look at him, her eyebrows rising until they disappeared beneath the curly fringe of white hair that framed her face.

“Marija can be patient because she has faith. And because she is faithful. Ask yourself—do you have faith?”

Ganny opened his mouth to answer, but Rebecca Puzdrovsky chose that moment to bustle back into the room, a soup tureen in her hands.

Ganny returned to scraping plates into the garbage bowl and Baba Irina began to hum
Take Me Out to the Ballgame
.

oOo

The next day was much like the last, except that Ganady was at the machine shop earlier. He did his work dutifully and with less fog in his brain than he had the day before. It concerned him, though, that he had not dreamed in the night. Two cockroaches rescued and no dreams to decode. He had been almost certain that these cockroaches were related to Svetlana in some mysterious way—if not literally—and that saving them from death must be of merit. He whispered prayers to the Lord to give him some help in this respect and kept his eyes open for more cockroaches.

He found one just after his lunch break when he went to the bathroom sink to wash his hands. He had flipped on the tap and picked up the bar of Lava soap, eyes searching the corners of the little room for possible cockroach hideouts. Finding none, he turned back to the sink, letting the warm water play over his hands, liking how the odd rough texture of the soap made the foam feel so soft in comparison.

He was rinsing his hands when movement in the drain caught his eye. There, struggling desperately against the flood, was a small black-and-red cockroach, its front feet only barely maintaining a hold on the metal rim of the drain.

Ganny gasped and shut off the water. The little creature bobbed upward and over the lip of the drain, where it lay, spent, sodden and unmoving.

Ganny grabbed a paper towel and slipped it carefully beneath the insect, flipping the edge so that the bug rolled away from it.

Not knowing what else to do, Ganny blew on it, hoping it might dry more quickly, praying he hadn't killed it. His prayers were answered and the little creature began to move, sluggishly at first, then finally with more vigor. It wiggled its legs and antennae, began fluttering its wings, and at last flipped itself upright on the paper towel.

Ganny breathed a sigh of relief. “I'm sorry,” he told it. “I didn't see you in there. It's not really such a good place to hide. Or find water.”

The cockroach responded with the usual waggling of antennae, but did not move from the towel. Ganady wrapped it very loosely so as not to crush it and carried it to his empty lunch box, where he stashed it—towel and all—with more murmured apologies.

“I have to work the rest of the day,” he told it as he closed the lid. “But you'll be safe in here. Oh, and you're welcome to any crumbs you find.”

Ganady watched the clock after that, eager to go home and deliver this latest refugee to its comrades. It was about an hour before quitting time when he saw his brother sidle over to his lunch box and flip up the lid.

He was struck dumb, standing there behind a shelf full of machine assemblies, and could only hold his breath, praying that his brother wouldn't see the cockroach.

Alas, Nikolai let out a yip of surprise and leapt back from the lunch box. When he reached for it with both hands, a murderous gleam in his eye, Ganady shoved himself into motion, darting out from behind the shelf.

“Hey, Nick. What's wrong?”

“There's a big old cockroach in your lunchbox!”

Ganny got close enough to snatch the box out of his brother's hands. “It's not that big. Actually, it's kind of small. And a pretty shade of red, too.”

Nick goggled at him. “A pretty cockroach? Is this what you snuck into your lunchbox? I saw you sneak something, but I figured it was some of that streusel Mrs. Heinz made for us. I was going to snitch some.”

“It...it
was
a piece of streusel,” Ganady fibbed. “This thing must've been in there and ate it all up.” Certainly, it had eaten every crumb left over from lunch; the inside of his lunchbox was empty of everything but cockroach and paper towel. “I'll just go throw it out.”

“I'd wash it down the drain. Or flush it down the toilet. Make sure it stays gone.”

Ganady was already moving toward the little loading dock behind the stockroom. “That's okay. I'll just let it out back here. It'll find a nice garbage can to move into.”

Nikolai watched him all the way out the door.

On the dock, he made a show of shaking the box over a garbage can next to the dock, but with his back to the shop, Nick would not be able to see that the cockroach was wrapped safely inside the paper towel.

When Ganady came back in, Nick was gone. He hid his lunchbox under an empty bin and contrived to work within sight of it for the remainder of the day.

oOo

By the end of his second week on the job, Ganady had rescued close to one dozen cockroaches. In one day alone he carried home three in his lunchbox. He had to be very discreet, for he knew Nikolai was watching him.

He deposited each new refugee atop his dresser. He'd cleared it of everything but The Baseball and his mitt to make room for them all, then reconsidered and replaced the statue of the Virgin, which Svetlana seemed to have found of comfort.

The cockroaches were never in evidence when he first entered his room, but once they sensed his presence they would appear and watch him. But, though he had rescued so many, still he did not dream of Svetlana. He spoke to the cockroaches every day about her, but they behaved as if they didn't understand him. He began to wonder if they were not simple vermin after all.

He wasn't sure where they went when they weren't in his room, but one night as he was preparing to go down to supper, he saw two of them scuttle beneath the door, returning from some reconnaissance.

“You should be careful,” he told them. “If anyone else sees you, they might just step on you. You should especially avoid my Mama and Baba. They don't like cockroaches much.”

The two paused in their promenade and waggled at him, turning several times back toward the door.

Before he could do more than wonder what had excited them so, the door of his room flew open and revealed Rebecca Puzdrovsky. She had a broom in her hands and a wild look in her eyes, which darted to and fro as if they would leap from her head.

“Ganady, have you seen—” she began, then looked past him, her mouth forming a great O. “Oh!” she said. “Oh! OH!” and then uttered a sound Ganady was sure rivaled those of the most ghastly wraiths from Baba's tales.

Ganny turned in time to see the cockroaches atop his dresser freeze in abject terror. A second later, they were gone.

Ganady turned back to face his poor Mama, certain of his doom. His prospects brightened somewhat when Baba Irina hove into view behind her daughter.

“What is it, Ravke? You could wake the dead with that screeching.”

“There were cockroaches!” cried Mama, her eyes still seeking them in every corner. “I followed two of them into the room, and there were...
hundreds
of them. There.” She pointed, her hand shaking. “Dancing around the Virgin.”

Baba Irina's eyes met Ganady's so sharply, he was forced to take a step in retreat. He shook his head mutely.

“That's ridiculous, Ravke. What would hundreds of cockroaches be doing dancing around the Virgin?” She pushed past her daughter into the room and went to Ganny's dresser. “Here, you see, there's not even one little cockroach here. If there were hundreds of them, where could they have gone, eh?”

Mama approached the dresser with obvious trepidation. “They were there, Mama. I saw. So, maybe not hundreds, but dozens.”

“Yes? Well, where are they now, I wonder? Ganny?”

He snapped to attention.

“Are there
dozens
of cockroaches hiding in your room somewhere?”

“Oh,
no
, Baba. Of course not. Why would there be? Where would I keep them?”

“Look, Ravke,” said Baba Irina. “You can see that the street lamp casts some strange shadows on the wall here. It's just moths fluttering around the window. See?”

And indeed, there were moth shadows that seemed to meld with those cast by the objects atop the dresser. But Ganady knew that was not what his mother had seen. He felt terrible trying to deceive her. His only comfort was that he had told the literal truth; he had barely a dozen cockroaches all told.

At last Baba prevailed, and Mama left the room, grumbling, “But I saw two come in here. Those were not moth shadows. Where are those two?”

Baba Irina shrugged. “Who knows? They could be anywhere. You'll surely never find them tonight. Let the boy get some sleep.”

The two women left him then, his grandmother giving him a ferocious look as she closed the door behind her, his Mama mumbling to herself about moth shadows.

When their voices had trailed off down the stairs, Ganady returned to his dresser to see if the cockroaches would come out to him. They did. And when they had arrayed themselves atop his dresser, he saw that there were now exactly twelve. He was sure there had only been eleven before. He found the two that had drawn his Mama into the room with them. They were easily recognizable; the one with a split wing he had seen before, but the other—the smallest cockroach of all—was brand new.

He smiled. He had rescued the cockroaches and now they were performing rescues of their own.

“Well done,” he told Split Wing and then, yawning, put himself to bed.

oOo

He dreamed. Perhaps it was the twelfth cockroach, perhaps it was the scare of almost being caught out, perhaps it was neither of those things. But whatever it was, he dreamed.

He was back at Connie Mack, sitting along the first-base line at a night game with Mr. Ouspensky and his Baba Irina. The two old people sat side by side, holding hands. There were other people in the stands, but to Ganady they were merely blurs of color. He couldn't see their faces and could only hear their voices as that fuzzy, disjointed babbling one hears when one is near sleep.

The night was fine and balmy, the breeze blew in from left field. The players were warmed up and ready for the first pitch.

“Well, Ganny,” said Mr. O.

And his Baba echoed, “Well, Ganny.”

“Well, what?”

“What are you waiting for?” asked Mr. O.

“I don't understand.”

“What are you waiting for?” asked Baba Irina.

“I'm...I'm waiting for a...a miracle. For magic. I'm waiting for something to happen?”

“Like what?” asked Mr. O.

“Like...I don't know. If I knew, I guess I wouldn't be waiting for it.”

“A miracle, he wants,” said his Baba. “How many more miracles do you need?”

“One more, I guess,” he answered, and was startled by the crack of a bat—a sound so loud it seemed to tear the fabric of the night. He glanced up and saw, arcing up through the dark air along the first base line, a majestic pop foul.