“Disappointed I’m not dead?” I said, handing him the beets.
“That’s a sour mood,” he said.
“Are you the only one who’s allowed to be angry? I’m sick of this. I’m tired of the NKVD hounding us.”
“Bah. They don’t care if we sign,” said the bald man. “Do you really think they need our permission, our signatures, to do what they’re doing to us? Stalin needs to break our will. Don’t you understand? He knows if we sign some stupid papers, we’ll give up. He’ll break us.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
He waved me away. “It doesn’t look good on you—anger,” he said. “Now get out.”
I walked out of the shack. “Let’s go, Jonas.”
“Wait,” whispered Jonas, leaning in to me. “He brought us salami.”
I folded my arms across my chest.
“I guess she’s allergic to kindness,” said Andrius.
“That’s not what I’m allergic to. Where did you get your salami?” I said.
Andrius stared at me. “Jonas, can you leave us for a minute?” he said.
“No, he can’t leave us. My mother doesn’t want him to be alone. That’s the only reason I came,” I said.
“I’m fine,” said Jonas. He turned and walked away.
“So, is that what you’re eating these days?” I asked. “Soviet salami?”
“When I can get it,” he said. He took out a cigarette and lit it. Andrius looked stronger, his arms muscular. He drew in a breath and blew a plume of smoke over our heads.
“And cigarettes, too,” I commented. “Are you sleeping in a nice bed in that Soviet building?”
“You have no idea,” he said.
“I don’t? Well, you don’t look tired or hungry. You weren’t dragged to the kolkhoz office in the middle of the night and condemned to twenty-five years. So, are you reporting all of our conversations to them?”
“You think I’m spying?”
“Komorov asked Mother to spy and report to him. She said no.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Andrius, the crimson in his face rising.
“I don’t?”
“No, you have no idea,” he said.
“I don’t see your mother working in the dirt—”
“No,” said Andrius, leaning in, an inch from my face. “You know why?” A vein in his temple bulged. I felt his breath on my forehead.
“Yes, because—”
“Because they threatened to kill me unless she slept with them. And if they get tired of her, they still might kill me. So how would you feel, Lina, if your mother felt she had to prostitute herself to save your life?”
My jaw dropped.
The words flew out of his mouth. “How do you think my father would feel if he knew? How does my mother feel, lying with the men who murdered her husband? No, your mother might not translate for them, but what do you think she’d do if they held a knife to your brother’s neck?”
“Andrius, I—”
“No, you have no idea. You have no idea how much I hate myself for putting my mother through this, how every day I think of ending my life so she can be free. But instead, my mother and I are using our misfortune to keep others alive. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? You’re too selfish and self-centered. Poor you, digging all day long. You’re just a spoiled kid.” He turned and walked away.
40
THE STRAW PRICKLED AGAINST my face. Jonas had fallen asleep a long time ago. A soft whistle blew each time he exhaled. I tossed and turned.
“He’s trying, Lina,” said Mother.
“He’s sleeping,” I said.
“Andrius. He’s trying and you’re blocking him at every pass. Men aren’t always graceful, you know.”
“Mother, you don’t understand,” I said.
She ignored me and continued. “Well, I can see you’re upset. Jonas said that you were nasty to Andrius. That’s unfair. Sometimes kindness can be delivered in a clumsy way. But it’s far more sincere in its clumsiness than those distinguished men you read about in books. Your father was very clumsy.”
A tear rolled down my cheek.
She chuckled in the darkness. “He says I bewitched him the very instant he saw me. But do you know what really happened? He tried to talk to me and fell out of a tree. He fell out of an oak tree and broke his arm.”
“Mother, it’s not like that,” I said.
“Kostas,” she sighed. “He was so clumsy, but he was so sincere. Sometimes there is such beauty in awkwardness. There’s love and emotion trying to express itself, but at the time, it just ends up being awkward. Does that make sense?”
“Mmm, hmm,” I said, trying to muffle my tears.
“Good men are often more practical than pretty,” said Mother. “Andrius just happens to be both.”
I couldn’t sleep. Each time I closed my eyes I saw him winking at me, his beautiful face coming toward mine. The smell of his hair lingered around me.
“Are you awake?” I whispered.
Joana rolled over. “Yes, it’s too hot to sleep,” she said.
“I feel like I’m spinning. He’s so ... handsome,” I told her.
She giggled, tucking her arms under her pillow. “And he dances even better than his older brother.”
“How did we look together?” I asked.
“Like you were having a great time,” she said. “Everyone could see that.”
“I can’t wait to see him tomorrow,” I sighed. “He’s just perfect.”
The next day after lunch we ran back to the cottage to brush our hair. I nearly ran over Jonas on my way out.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“For a walk,” I said, rushing after Joana.
I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a jog. I tried not to crumple the drawing rolled in my hand. I had decided to draw him when I couldn’t sleep. The portrait came out so well that Joana suggested I give it to him. She assured me he’d be impressed with my talent.
His brother rushed up to Joana, meeting her in the street.
“Hey, stranger,” he said, smiling at Joana.
“Hi!” said Joana.
“Hi, Lina. What do you have there?” he said, motioning to the paper in my hand.
Joana looked over toward the ice cream shop. I moved around her to find him.
“Lina,” she said, reaching out to hold me back.
It was too late. I had already seen. My prince had his arm around a girl with red hair. They were cozy, laughing, sharing an ice cream cone. My stomach plunged and twisted.
“I forgot something,” I said, backing away. My fingers wrenched the portrait in my sweaty hand. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Joana.
“No, that’s all right,” I said, hoping the blotches of heat I felt on my neck weren’t visible. I attempted a smile. The sides of my mouth trembled. I turned and walked away, trying to keep my composure until I reached a safe distance.
Clenching my jaw didn’t stop the tears. I stopped and leaned against a trash can on the street.
“Lina!” Joana caught up to me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. I opened the crinkled portrait of his handsome face. I ripped it up and threw it away. Stray pieces escaped my grip and blew across the street. Boys were idiots. They were all idiots.
41
AUTUMN APPROACHED. The NKVD pushed us harder. If we so much as stumbled, they reduced our bread rations. Mother could close her thumb and middle finger around my forearm. I had no tears. The sensation of crying would fill me, but my eyes would only dry-heave and burn.