The Last Paradise

Jack interpreted as well as he could.

“She’s fascinated,” Jack translated for Sue. “Now she’s asking whether you’d trade your skirt for her fur coat.”

“Seriously?” Sue replied, unconvinced. “It’s worn-out.” She looked down at it. “And anyway, I don’t know if he’d approve . . .” She gestured at the space that Walter had left when he had gone off to have a cup of tea in the buffet car at the rear of the train.

“Nonsense! You’ve been complaining about the cold since we left. Go for it!” Jack encouraged her.

“You think?” Her tone was like a naughty girl’s. “That coat doesn’t exactly look my size.”

“Ha! And your skirt isn’t hers. What does it matter? You can trim off the extra and use it to make a hat.”

Despite not understanding the conversation, the Soviet peasant woman took off the fur coat and held it out to Sue with a smile. Sue carefully stroked the garment, marveling at the soft fur. “Will you help me try it on outside?” she asked Jack. “There’s no space in here.”

“Sure.” He took the coat and followed Sue out into the corridor. In a swift movement, she slid an arm into the sleeve and let Jack help her with the other one.

“How does it look?” She posed like a vaudeville showgirl.

“They’re going to see you,” Jack replied, gesturing at the passengers crowding the corridor. He went to return to the compartment, but Sue stopped him.

“Wait. I still have to give her the skirt.”

Without letting Jack respond, she turned toward him, and using him as a screen, she took off the skirt, revealing pale legs topped by tight-fitting white panties. Sue’s brazenness made Jack feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t prevent a stab of desire.

“Hurry up,” he said, looking away.

Sue quickly buttoned up the coat, and they went back into the compartment, where Olga, mumbling, “Krasivy, krasivy,” impatiently snatched her new acquisition.

“What’s she saying?” Sue asked.

“That even if it doesn’t fit, it’s beautiful,” Jack translated as he took his seat.

Sue slumped back onto the wooden bench, and her half-open coat allowed Jack to see her thighs. He took a deep breath to shake off the discomfort that was making him flush red, and tried to distract himself by looking at the chickens in their cages. But his eyes disobeyed him, lured by the whiteness of Sue’s firm, slender legs, contrasted against the dark of the coat. It had been months since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman. As his breathing accelerated, he forgot his reserve and fixed his eyes on Sue’s legs. Nobody seemed to notice what was happening; the two Soviet children dozed, and their parents were absorbed in exploring every last stitch of the American skirt. Jack squirmed in his seat, discomforted by an intense heat that he didn’t know whether to attribute to the crude radiator at the window or Sue’s exposed skin. He thought of Walter. Finally, he unbuttoned his shirt neck and stood.

“I can’t stand this heat. I’m going to see what your fiancé’s up to,” he said, and left the compartment.

On the way to the buffet car, Jack had to fight his way through the dozens of passengers who filled the corridors, some wrapped in so many rags that they were barely distinguishable from the bags in which they transported their meager belongings. He looked at them with pity. Unlike him, none of them had paid the provodnik the five rubles that it cost to reserve a seat, or the five extra for blankets. However, as the train clattered along, what surprised him most was the smell that came from many of the compartments, even the first-class ones, occupied by Russians and Finns.

As he made his way through the rearmost cars, wondering what caused the pungent aroma, he came across Walter, who was returning from the buffet.

“Hey, Jack! I was on my way to let you know. Some locals just told me we’ll be arriving in Vyborg any moment now; it’s the last stop in Finland. Isn’t that incredible? We’ll go through customs, and in a couple of hours, we’ll be in Leningrad.” He took off his spectacles to wipe the mist from the lenses. His face was a picture of happiness.

“That’s great.” Jack was relieved that Walter, who’d been silent since their falling-out at the station, was speaking to him again. “But we should wait here. Sue’s sleeping, and the compartment stinks,” he said in an attempt to delay being reunited with the young woman. He was still flustered by the image of her thighs.

At that moment, the locomotive’s brakes screeched and the cars shuddered. Slowly, puffing and snorting, the train ground to a halt at Vyborg Station. When the provodnik finally blew his whistle, a stampede of Finns alighted and ran toward the food stalls that some peasants had set up on the platform. Jack and Walter braved the cold of the night and got out to stretch their legs. While they walked, Jack marveled at the trails of breath emanating from the crowd of passengers, like dozens of puffs of smoke whitening the night air.

“What’re they doing?” Walter asked.

“I don’t know. Looks like they’re buying food,” said Jack, stiff with cold.

Jack saw Konstantin, the man who shared their compartment, haggling with a farmer over the price of a sack of potatoes. He left Walter for a moment and went to speak to him.

“What did he say?” Walter asked on his friend’s return, blinking behind the lenses of his spectacles.

“That unless we want to starve to death in Russia, we should spend every last ruble we have on meat and vegetables.”



When Sue saw Walter, Jack, and Konstantin returning to the compartment loaded to the hilt, she was speechless. Jack had bought smoked venison sausages, rice pudding, and cinnamon cookies, as well as a packet that smelled as bad as the interior of the car. When she asked Jack what it contained, Konstantin cut in.

“Klavo, Gvozd.” He showed her some brown powder and smiled.

“It’s ground clove,” Jack explained. “That’s what the strange smell was. Take some and spread it over yourself. It seems the Russians use it to scare the lice away.” As they packed up the food, he explained to them that Konstantin had assured him that it would keep them safe from typhus. “So I bought enough to resell to the other passengers,” he added proudly.

Walter gave Jack a disapproving look. “I don’t understand where you got the money for all these supplies. How much did Hewitt offer you?”

“What offer’s this?” Sue asked.

Jack cleared his throat. The border police were about to come on the train, and he didn’t want the officials to find them arguing. “If you must know, it has nothing to do with Hewitt’s proposal.”

“It doesn’t? So where did you get it from? Because as far as I can see, you just bought up half the market.”

Jack sat in silence for a moment, weighing whether to let Walter in on the source of his profits. He knew he wouldn’t be happy about it, but he had to come clean. “It was from the tickets.”

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