“But, Mrs. Daniels, you know as well as I do that the company store’s practically out of stock. I can’t—”
“Son,” she cut in, “I’d know the smell that comes out of your room anywhere. And look at you. You might not have fat to burn, but you’re strong as an ox. You know how to get food, and you must be able to spare some. Listen,” she said, her eyes beginning to well up, “we send everything we have to my mother, who’s sick in Detroit, but even so, we’ve saved two hundred rubles. It’s all we have. Here. Take it.” She held out the money in a crumpled ball.
Jack took a deep breath, trying to stifle his shame. He refused to take the notes and offered a handkerchief to the woman to dry her eyes. Money was not the issue. The problem was that if he helped Mrs. Daniels, word would spread that he could get food, and then everyone in the village would be begging him for the same thing. He pursed his lips and bemoaned the day he’d had the idea to treat everyone he knew to a hog roast.
“Mrs. Daniels, if I look well, it’s because I had this suit mended. And in the canteen, they give supervisors special treatment. I’m . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
The woman went down on her knees in front of Jack before he could stop her, bursting into tears. “In the name of God, I beg you! Think of your parents. If they were here, you would help them.”
Hearing her mention his parents, Jack shuddered. It occurred to him that, were they still alive, he wouldn’t even be here, freezing to death, with an old lady kneeling in front of him and begging him for food. He helped the woman up and showed her to the door. He told her to wait outside. Then he went to his trunk, removed five hundred rubles, and went out into the corridor to give them to her. “Here. It’s all I can do for you.”
“But what’re we going to do with this money?” the woman sputtered with tears in her eyes. “We don’t know—”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Daniels. Ask around. I’m afraid there is no way I can help you.”
A minute later, Jack slumped onto his bed and closed his eyes in an attempt to block out Mrs. Daniels’s wails that he could make out in the distance. It was impossible. He pictured his mother’s face on the body of the old woman on her knees, and his heart trembled. He mumbled a curse. He’d have liked to help those poor people, but if he did, he’d ease their suffering for a day, and the next day he’d be in jail. He went to pick up the bottle of vodka from his table, beside which were the remains of the beef stew he’d had for dinner. Suddenly, he retched, vomiting on the plate and his clothes. He cleaned himself as well as he could; then he opened the bottle and began to drink.
18
Jack had never imagined that simply having a hot meal every day and earning good money could weigh so heavily on him. He finished washing in the communal bathroom just as Mr. Daniels came in. The man greeted him in a wisp of a voice. When he took off his vest, Jack could see more ribs in his back than he would’ve liked. He returned the greeting and left.
On the way to his weekly meeting with Wilbur Hewitt, he tried to figure out how he could help Mr. Daniels without compromising himself, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t think of a way. Through the great iron window of the office building, he could see a timid sun competing for space in the sky with the storm clouds that seemed to always hang over the Avtozavod. He gathered the reports he’d prepared throughout the week and knocked on the industrialist’s door. It was ten o’clock on the dot, and as on other occasions, the young nurse who checked the progress of Hewitt’s arm every morning emerged from the office. Jack returned the smile that she gave him as soon as she saw him. He remembered her name was Natasha. For a moment, he felt the urge to know more about her, and he wondered for how much longer she’d be treating Hewitt.
The industrialist’s voice suddenly made Jack jump as if he’d been caught stealing apples. Jack took out his notes and arranged them on the desk. Hewitt laid his monocle on an old copy of the New York Times and waited for Jack to fill him in on the results of his inquiries. However, Jack set aside the reports and looked Hewitt in the eye. He pondered whether he should inform him about what was happening to his compatriots. He made up his mind.
“Mr. Hewitt, if I may, before we discuss the investigation, I’d like to bring a matter that concerns all of us to your attention.”
“All of us? Gosh! Well, let’s have it, then.” He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned over the table to listen.
“It’s about the food rations. I don’t know if you’re aware, but they’re dwindling fast, and the American village store is also short on supplies.”
“No, I didn’t know. I always have lunch here, in the office, and, frankly, the offering seems just as plentiful and as awful as it’s always been. But if that’s the problem, I’ll see if I can get them to provide you with a couple more tickets, and—”
“Pardon me, Mr. Hewitt. Perhaps I haven’t explained myself well. The problem’s not mine; like I say, it’s something that’s affecting all the workers.”
“Oh! In that case, the best thing to do is lodge a complaint. I’ll give you the name of the proper official. These matters are beyond my remit.”
“Excuse me if I’m speaking out of turn, sir, but I don’t think seeing fellow Americans growing sick from hunger is beyond your remit.”
Hewitt’s expression of disbelief was like that of a sergeant being insulted by a new recruit. He coughed as if he’d been dealt a punch, and stood over the desk. “Let’s get one thing straight, Jack. This is how it works: we don’t sniff the Russians’ butts, and they don’t sniff ours. I don’t know why they’re cutting rations, but if they are, I can assure you they’ll have their reasons. Anyway, it sounds like the cuts are affecting everyone the same, and I doubt the Soviets enjoy seeing their own compatriots going without, so I don’t think there’s much I can do about it.”
“So, that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“But—”
With a quick swat, Hewitt sent Jack’s stack of reports flying. “Listen to me, kid, and listen hard, because you only have two choices!” he said, waving his forefinger in front of Jack’s nose. “If you like our arrangement, carry on working with your mouth shut, taking home a salary that most people can only dream of. If you don’t like it, take your reports, leave through that door, and then experience hardship like the rest of your workmates.”
Jack fell silent, seeing Hewitt’s flushed face. He’d never seen him like this. He swallowed and carefully reorganized his files. “I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped the mark.”
“You darn well have overstepped it!”