Ralph Peters (35 page)

"
Let's get out of these godforsaken rags,
"
he told them,
"
and get to work.
"

13

Moscow

2 November 2020

"
You
don't have to
do
anything,
"
her friend told
Valya.
"
Just talk to them, have a drink or two. Come for the fun of it.
"

Valya told herself she could not go. There were countless reasons to decline the invitation. Since her visit to the clinic, she had resolved to behave as a wife should, to think only of Yuri, struggling to imagine that their lives together would improve. And she still had not recovered fully from the minor operation. The work had been carelessly done, and she still bled intermittently and often felt tired and weak. Standing in front of her students all day, forcing them to repeat in English,
"
I am pleased to meet you,
"
took all of the energy she had. She barely cooked for herself, yet the table in the combination living and dining room was covered with neglected plates and cups. When she came home at the end of the day, she was even conscious that the tiny apartment had begun to smell unpleasantly, nursing a dreary odor of clotted broth and clothing left unlaundered. But she could not bring herself to raise her hand to work in earnest. In lieu of a proper cleanup, she halfheartedly shifted a few items about the room. At first Naritsky had phoned her again and again, but, slowly, he wearied of her unwillingness to give him an audience. She told herself that she must write to Yuri,
while, night after night, she sat on the old green sofa, wrapped in a blanket, half-watching the television with its unkempt mixture of patriotic and sentimental programming punctuated by oddly fractured news reports from the war. She grasped that things were going very badly, and that Yuri might be in terrible danger. Yet, the recognition was merely intellectual. The small images had no real power to move her. No bombs fell in her street, and except for even greater shortages than usual in the shops, the war could not yet touch her. Absent, Yuri, too, was only an abstraction. She sat on the broken couch, staring at the livid rug hung to hide the disrepair of the opposite wall, while a songstress with mounds of chemical-soaked hair complained of the sorrows of love. Write to Yuri, she thought, I must write to Yuri. Yet, she did not write, and in her most lucid moments, she knew that she did not love the man to whom she had bound herself and that she simply feared being found out.

"
I can't go, Tanya,
"
she told her friend.
"
I really can't.
"

Tanya grimaced. She glanced instinctively at the random uncleanliness of the nearby tabletop, then forced her eyes back to her friend. But Valya was only faintly embarrassed. Things mattered less these days.

"
You can't just sit here like a cabbage,
"
Tanya said.
"
What in the world's gotten into you?
"

"
I've been thinking of Yuri,
"
Valya half-lied.
"
I've treated him so badly. I haven't even written.
"

"
Yuri can take care of himself,
"
Tanya said.
"
You're being foolish. What's he done for you? What's so special about your life?
"
Tanya scanned the feckless clutter of the room.
"
They think they're so important. All puffed up in their uniforms. And look what a mess they've gotten us into. I always told you not to get involved with a soldier.
"
This was not true. When they had begun going out together, Tanya had praised Yuri boundlessly, stressing the security of being an officer's wife, the dwindling but still considerable privileges, and even admiring Yuri's looks. Once, a two-room apartment in Moscow had seemed like a very great thing. Now the same living space felt like a prison to Valya.

"
You were better off with what's-his-name,
"
Tanya con
tinued.
"
He
at least had money.
And
he didn't mind spending it.
"

"
Please,
"
Valya said.
"
I don't want to talk about it. You don't know.
"

"
Valya.
For God's sake. You have to pull yourself together. I mean, look at this place. It's so unlike you.
"

But Valya knew that it was not really unlike her at all. She suspected that this was a truer reflection of her nature than imported perfume and careful makeup. But she also knew that she would, indeed, go with Tanya to the hotel. She only needed to delay the admission a little longer, not for Tanya's sake, but for her own.

"
I haven't been well,
"
Valya said.

"
Oh, don't be a baby.
"

"
I really should write to Yuri. For all I know, he's out there fighting or something.
"

"
Don't be silly. Yuri's clever enough to take care of himself
.
Don't you believe all that talk about 'duty' and 'officer-this and officer-that.' Men love to talk.
"
Tanya paused momentarily, as if she had to catch her breath at the thought of how many lies men had told her. Then she purged her expression of all mercy.
"
I'll bet he doesn't even think about you. He's probably sleeping with some nurse or with one of the local tramps. Those Siberian girls have no morals.
"

"
Not Yuri
"
Valya said vehemently, certain of this one thing.
"
Yuri's not that way.
"
It might have been better, she thought, if he
had
been that way.

Tanya laughed, a loud burlesque snort. You just don t understand men, my dear. They're
all
that way. You
can't
judge a man by the way he acts at home.

"
Not Yuri,
"
Valya repeated flatly.

Tanya sighed.
"
Well, time will tell. But why talk about Yuri? I came to talk about
you.
Valya, you simply
must
come out tonight. It's too good an opportunity to miss.

Valya tried to wrap herself in an aura of innocence, as though it were a second blanket.
"
I just don't think I can,
"
she said. Then she glanced off toward the television
.
A man with silver hair called for a new era of self-sacrifice. A new spirit in the people was going to win the war. F
or
a surplus moment of their lives the two women faced the
television wearing the identical sober expressions that had allowed them to drift through hundreds of official meetings without hearing a word.

"
What are they like?
"
Valya asked quietly, without looking at her friend.
"
I'm just curious.
"

"
Well
, first
of all,
"
Tanya said,
"
they know how to treat a woman properly. They're all rich, of course.
"
Tanya thought for a moment.
"
Naturally, they're just the same as any other men
that
way. They just want to get your skirt up around your waist. But . . . well, if I can't be honest with you, who can I be honest with? At least they don't grunt once and roll off you.
"

"
Tanya
.
"

"
Oh, don't act like the little innocent. I'm just saying I've never been so . . . so . . .
"
Tanya finally blushed at her own thoughts. In the moment of truth she could not overcome the force of the behavioral code. What you did was not of so much importance. But you had to be guarded in what you said.
"
They must study it at school or something,
"
she giggled, as though a decade had been wiped away and they were both teenaged girls again.

The moment of silliness passed, and Tanya primped the line of her skirt.
"
But that's not why I came. I just thought you wouldn't want to miss a chance to talk to them. To practice your English. You know. You might learn some new expressions, the latest slang.
"

Valya looked down at the floor. That, too, badly needed cleaning.
"
I wouldn't know what to say to them,
"
she told her friend. But she was already rehearsing verbal gambits in her mind.

"
Oh, they'll take care of that. They really
are
friendly. Just like in the old Western movies. All scrubbed and clean and smiling all the time. And they don't act like stupid little bullies. Really, they're just the opposite of Russian men.
"

"
But . . . I've heard they're very uncultured.
"

Tanya closed her eyes in an expression of disgust.
"
Well, if you want to go to an art museum, you can always go by yourself.
I
think the Americans are wonderful.
"
To emphasize her point, she squeezed out a few words of her best English, far weaker than Valya's drilled speech.
"
To
have fun,
"
Tanya said
.
"
Always to have fun. Darling, it is very nice.
"

"
I don't think I'd like them,
"
Valya said, already imagining dull-witted American smiles, solid shoes, and lives of unforgivable material well-being.

"
That's silly. First meet them, then make up your mind. I've already told Jim about you. He and his friends would love to meet you.
"

"
Jeem,
"
Valya said disdainfully.
"
It sounds like a name from a film. It's a foolish name.
"

Tanya shrugged in sudden weariness, as though Valya's slovenly malaise had grown contagious. Then she looked at her watch.

"
It's getting late,
"
she said.
"
I promised Jim I'd meet him.
"

Valya felt a rush of fear. Fear of being left behind, in these sour rooms, in her soured life. Who knew what possibilities might exist with the Americans? And a drink or two would do no harm. Perhaps there would even be something good to eat at the hotel. She felt herself blossoming back to life, after the long dead weeks. Surely, there would be marvelous food, gathered up just for the foreigners. Seductive, not-quite-focused visions began to crowd her mind.

"
You're right,
"
Valya said suddenly.
"
I need to get out. For some fresh air. I'll sleep better.
"

Tanya brightened again, and Valya wondered whether her old schoolmate had begged her to go along out of antique devotion, out of the need for further help in communicating with these rich men from abroad, or as some sort of procuress. But it did not matter.

"
How long are they staying in Moscow?
"
Valya asked, letting the coverlet slip from her shoulders. In the background. the television displayed a map of far-off battles.

"
A long time, I think,
"
Tanya said.
"
Jim says he doesn't know for sure. They're on business. It's some kind of trade delegation. But don't worry. They're not boring, not at all the way you'd picture American businessmen.
They're
all friends, and they're always telling stories about when they
were in the Army together.
"

It suddenly struck Valya as odd that a trade delegation
would be in Moscow for an extended stay while the country was desperately at war. But she quickly shrugged it off. A thousand articles, programs, lectures had assured her that the Americans even made money off of plagues and famines, while Naritsky had already demonstrated to her how easily money could be made off of war. Perhaps that was why they were here now, to sell the tools of death. Valya found it no cause for serious concern.

"
I'll have to wash up. And fix my hair.
"

"
That's right,
"
Tanya said happily.
"
And make sure you wash really well. They're very particular about it.
"
She wrinkled her nose.
"
While you're getting dressed, I'll just clean up some of this mess.
"

Valya hastened into her tiny bedroom and began rummaging through a pile of neglected clothing. What was clean enough to wear? She had to be cautious with colors— she had been looking very pale.

China clacked in the next room, and she just heard Tanya's musing voice:

"
You're such a bad girl, Valya.
"