CHAPTER THIRTY
New York, April 1945
IN APRIL THE AMERICANSand Russians swarmed over Germany, and in the first week of May, Germany unconditionally surrendered. The European war was over. In the Pacific theater, the Americans continued to suffer bloodletting even as they beat back the Japanese from every beach head, from every island.
June 23 quietly came and went. Tatiana turned twenty-one. How long did they say you would mourn before the years dulled your pain? How long before the hand of time, tick, tick, tick, relentless days and nights and months and years chipped away at the stone of sorrow inside your throat until it was no more than a pebble with smooth sides? Every time you think his name, the air can't get past it, every time you look at his son, the air can't get past it. Every time it's Christmas, your birthday, his birthday, March 13, you can't breathe for a day, another day, another year. They fly by, the years, and yet the grief remains lodged in your throat, through which everything else in your life has to pass. Everything else: happiness for yourself, affection for other people, joy at living, at comfort, at convenience, laughter at your child, food on your plate, drink at your table, every prayer, every clasping of the hands, past it, past it, past it.
In the summer of 1945, Vikki agreed to go to Arizona by train with Tatiana and Anthony. Tatiana wanted to take a vacation to celebrate her becoming a U.S. citizen.
On the way, Tatiana told Vikki they needed to make a short stop in Washington DC.
She did not go inside the State Department building this time but sat patiently on the bench on C Street under the trees while Vikki smoked and Anthony played on the grass, and Vikki finally said, "This is your idea of a short stop? We took only two weeks off."
Tatiana watched the workers saunter out for lunch. She watched Sam Gulotta come out and walk past her bench. Tatiana did not acknowledge him. He walked another ten yards, slowed down, then stopped. Turning around, he stared at her for a few moments, and slowly came back.
Raising her eyes to him, Tatiana said, "Hello. I don't want to bother you." She introduced him to Vikki.
Gulotta smiled and sat down next to her. "You're not bothering me. It's nice to see you. I have nothing new to tell you." Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/ab*.html
"Nothing at all?"
"No. Europe is becoming an awful mess." He paused. "I know I told you that when things relaxed a bit, I could perhaps make inquiries...but I was wrong about things becoming easier. They've become worse than ever. Us, France, Britain, the Soviets, all in Germany, and worse--all in Berlin. One diplomatic faux pas and we're in another world war next week."
"I know." She stood up. "Well, thank you."
"Have you become an American citizen yet?"
"Yes, just."
Gulotta said, "Do you want to go have a bite to eat? It's lunch, we can get a sandwich."
"I'd like to, maybe another time. But I brought you something. I made them this morning." Tatiana took out a bag full of meatpirozhki . "Last time you said you liked them..."
"Very much, thank you." He took the bag from her. "I would have liked lunch, too."
Tatiana and Sam said goodbye.
Vikki pinched Tatiana very hard after Sam was out of sight. "Tania, you vixen! You strumpet! You libertine! All this time you've been up to this!"
"Vikki, up to nothing," Tatiana said calmly.
"Oh yes? Is he married?"
"He was, yes." Tatiana paused, wondering if she should tell Vikki about Sam. She decided to tell. "His wife died three years ago in plane crash carrying medical supplies to our troops in Okinawa. He is raising his two boys by himself."
"Tatiana!"
"Vikki, I don't have time to explain to you."
"You've got two weeks. But we have thirteen million troops abroad, and as soon as we win this war, they're all coming home through the Port of New York."
"Oh yes? Because United States has no other coastal city?"
"That's right. Now tell me why you have to go all the way to Washington to find a man when our beautiful New York is going to have thirteen million?"
"Not speaking to you about it."
After spending five days at the Grand Canyon, Tatiana drove a rented car south through Arizona, headed for Tucson. Vikki, being a city girl, did not know how to drive. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/ab*.html
They stopped in Phoenix. "Just a dusty, one-horse village," Vikki called it. One scorching summer evening they were sitting on a blanket on the hood of their car, looking at the sunset. The Sonoran Desert, covered with white saguaros, stretches for hundreds of miles across southeastern Arizona. Home to 298 varieties of cactus, it is the largest desert in North America, spanning much of Arizona and New Mexico. In the near distance are the foothills of the Maricopa mountains. The indigo blue sky stands in stark contrast to the brick and cream hue of the earth. Except for the flickering of an occasional jackrabbit chasing a previously motionless Gila monster, the desert is silent.
They sat on the hood of the sedan, their backs to the windshield, northwest of the Superstition Mountains. Anthony crawled on the ground, at two years old interested in only two things: getting as mucky as possible and finding a snake, not necessarily in that order.
"Anthony," called Vikki, wiping the perspiration off her face. "Get off the ground. Do you know that snakes swallow their food whole?"
"All right, Vikki," said Tatiana. "Enough."
"Whole, Anthony," Vikki repeated.
"But I big boy. I want small snake." Anthony was verbal for a boy of two.
"You're not a big boy. You're a small boy."
"Vikki."
"What?"
Tatiana said nothing, just stared at Vikki.
"Why do you do that? You call out my name, as if that's enough for me to know exactly what you want. Vikki what?"
"You know what."
"No, I'm not going to stop. Aren't you at all concerned?"
"Not really," said Tatiana. "Anthony, you find snake, you let me know. We take snake back to New York and cook it."
"That'll be a nice change from bacon. For your next birthday," said Vikki, leaning back and taking a drink, "I'm going to buy you a book on mothering, a book on cooking, and also some `a's and `the's. You don't seem to have any."
"Some what?"
"Never mind. But seriously though, Tania, you eat Planter's peanuts, don't you?"
"What?"
"Planter's peanuts." Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/ab*.html
"No, I don't like peanuts."
"What does the ad for them read in Times Square? We passed it the other day."
"I don't know. I think it reads,`Planter's peanuts: a bag a day for more pep.' "
"Exactly. Very good. Now, if you had your way with that line, it would read,`bag day for more pep.' Do you see the difference?"
"No." With a straight face.
"Oh, God."
Tatiana turned away and smiled. She got out a bottle of Coke from her bag and passed it to Vikki, saying,"`Drink Coca Cola. A pause that refreshes.'"
"Very good!" Vikki said, her eyes, her teeth gleaming at Tatiana.
Anthony did not find a snake but did become exhausted by his search efforts. He climbed onto the car, onto Tatiana's lap, dusty, hands grimy, and nuzzled his head into her chest. She gave him a drink of water.
Sitting close against Vikki with Anthony cradled on her lap, Tatiana said, "Quite beautiful, no?"
"Your son?" Vikki leaned over and kissed him. "Yes. The desert's barren." She shrugged. "It's nice for a change of pace. I wouldn't want to live here, there's nothing but cacti."
"In spring all wildflowers bloom to life. It must be even better here in spring."
"New York is beautiful in the spring."
Tatiana didn't say anything at first. Then she said, "The desert is amazing--"
"Desert is okay. Have you ever seen a steppe?"
Tatiana paused before replying. "Yes," she said slowly. "It's not this. The steppe is cold and bleak. Here, yes, it's over ninety degrees now, but in December, near Christmas, it will be seventy. The sun will be high in sky. It won't be dark. In December, all I will wear for cover is long-sleeve shirt."
"What do they wear in this Arizona in the winter?" Dasha asks Alexander.
"A long-sleeve shirt."
"Now I know you're telling me fairy tales. Tell them to Tania. I'm too old for fairy tales."
"Tania, you believe me, don't you?"
"Yes, Alexander."
"Would you like to live in Arizona, the land of the small spring?" Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/ab*.html
"Yes, Alexander."
"So?" said Vikki. "It's broiling here right now. We're going to become scrambled eggs if we don't start driving."
Tatiana shuddered briefly, to shake off the memories. "I'm just saying. It's nothing like steppe. I like it here."
Shrugging, Vikki said, "But Tania, it's the middle of nowhere."
"I know. Fantastic, isn't it? No people anywhere."
"That's fantastic?"
"A little...yes."
"Well, I can't imagine anyone wanting to buy this land or live here."
Tatiana cleared her throat. "What about your friend?" she said.
"Which one?"
"Me."
"You want to live here?" Vikki paused and turned her head. "Or do you want to buy this land?" she said incredulously.
Quietly, Tatiana said, "Imagine I purchased some saguaro cactus and sagebrush land in Sonoran Desert."
"Not for a second."
Tatiana was silent.
"Did you buy this land?"
Tatiana nodded.
"This very land?"
She nodded.
"When?"
"Last year. When I come here with Anthony."
"I knew I should have come with you! Why? And with what?"
"I liked it." She looked at the expanse of earth stretching out to the mountains. "I never own anything in my life. I bought it with money I brought with me from Soviet Union." With Alexander's money. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/ab*.html
"But God, whythis land?" Vikki looked at her. "I bet it was cheap."
"Itwas cheap." It cost only four lives. Harold's. Jane's. Alexander's. And Tatiana's. Tatiana pressed Anthony closer to her chest.
"Hmm," Vikki said, studying Tatiana. "Are you going to be full of these kinds of surprises? Or is this it?"
"This is it." Tatiana smiled and didn't say anything after that but stared west into the valley, into the sunset, into the mighty saguaro cactus, into the desert, into four thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars that had bought ninety-seven acres of the United States of America.