183
" The next morning at dawn Tatiana stumbled out to the water, barely able to walk. She felt raw. Alexander followed her in. The Kama was cold. They were both naked. “I brought soap,” he said. “Oh, my.” Alexander washed her entire body. “With this soap I thee wash,” he sleepily murmured. “I wash you of the horrors that befell you, and I wash you of your nightmares…I wash your arms and your legs and your love-giving heart and your life-giving belly—” “Give me the soap,” Tatiana said. “I’ll wash you.” “Wait, how does it go? What did God say to Moses—” “Have no idea.” “Thou shall not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day…” Alexander broke off. “I can’t remember the rest of it. Certainly not in Russian. Something about ten thousand falling at your right hand. I’ve got to brush up on my Bible and tell it to you. I think you’d like it. But you get my meaning.” “I get your meaning,” Tatiana said. “I won’t be afraid.” She gazed at him. “How can I be afraid now?” she whispered. “Look what I’ve been given. Give me the soap,” she repeated. “I can’t stand up,” Alexander muttered. “I’m finished.” Her hands with the soap moved lower. “Not quite finished.” He fell backward in the water. “Done for, certainly,” Tatiana said, falling on top of him. “But not finished. "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
184
" Pasha, let me show you,” Tatiana said quietly. “It’s like this. You put your hand on the handle, and you pull. The door opens. You walk outside. It shuts behind you. Let’s see if you can do it.” “Just open the door, Tania,” said Pasha. “Can’t you see I’m carrying my suitcase?” Out on the street they stood still for a moment. “Tania,” said Papa. “Take the hundred and fifty rubles I gave you and go and buy us some food. But don’t dawdle, like always. Go immediately. Do you hear?” “I hear, Papa. I’ll go immediately.” Pasha snorted. “You’re going back to bed,” he whispered to her. Mama said, “Come on, we better go.” “Yes,” Papa said. “Come on, Pasha.” “So long,” Tatiana said, knocking Pasha on the arm. He grunted unhappily in reply and pulled her hair. “Tie your hair up before you go out, will you?” he said. “You’ll scare off the passersby.” “Shut up,” Tatiana said lightly. “Or I’ll cut it off completely.” “All right, let’s go now,” said Papa, tugging at Pasha. Tatiana said good-bye to Volodya, waved to her mother, took one last look at Pasha’s reluctant back, and returned upstairs. "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
187
" What’s in this bread?” Tatiana asked, breaking off a piece of the black crust and looking inside. “What is this?” It was the start of November. Babushka was on the couch. Mama and Marina had already gone out for the day. Tatiana was procrastinating, trying to make her portion last. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. Dasha leaned over from her chair and shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares? How does it taste?” “Actually, revolting.” “Eat it. What, maybe you’d like some white bread instead?” Tatiana picked at a little piece of something in the bread, poked it with her fingers, then put it on her tongue. “Dash, oh my God, you know what it is?” “I don’t care.” “It’s sawdust.” Dasha paused in her own chewing, but only for a second. “Sawdust?” “Yes, and this here?” Tatiana pointed to a brown fleck between her fingers. “That’s cardboard. We’re eating paper. Three hundred grams a day, and they’re giving us paper.” Finishing every last crumb of her piece and looking hungrily at the one Tatiana was kneading between her fingers, Dasha said, “We’re lucky to have that. Can I open the can of tomatoes?” “No. We have only two left. Besides, Mama and Marina are not here. You know if we open it, we’ll eat it all.” “That’s the idea.” “We can’t. We’ll open it tonight for dinner.” “What kind of dinner is that going to be? Tomatoes?” “If you didn’t eat all your cardboard in the morning, you’d have some left for dinner.” “I can’t help it.” “I know,” said Tatiana, putting the rest of the bread in her mouth and chewing it with her eyes closed. “Listen,” she said when she had swallowed hard, “I’ve got some crackers left. Want to have some? Just three each?” “Yes.” The girls glanced at Babushka, who was sleeping. They ate seven each. Only small remainders were left of what used to be whole pieces of toasted bread. Broken remainders with crumbs on the bottom. "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
189
" Tania, why don’t you take off your shoes? You’ll be more comfortable.” “I’m fine,” she said. How did he know her feet were killing her? Was it that obvious? “Go on,” he prodded gently. “It will be easier for you to walk on the grass.” He was right. Breathing a sigh of relief, she bent, unstrapped the sandals, and slipped them off. Straightening up and raising her eyes to him, she said, “That is a little better.” Alexander was silent. “Now you’re really tiny,” he said at last. “I’m not tiny,” she returned. “You’re just outsized.” Blushing, she lowered her gaze. "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
192
" There was nowhere for her to go. Not in the kitchen, not in the hallway, not in the bedroom. What she wanted was a little room of her own where she could go and jot down small things in her diary. Tatiana had no little room of her own. As a result she had no diary. Diaries, as she understood them from books, were supposed to be full of personal writings and filled with private words. Well, in Tatiana’s world there were no private words. All private thoughts you kept in your head as you lay down next to another person, even if that other person happened to be your sister. Leo Tolstoy, one of her favorite writers, wrote a diary of his life as a young boy, an adolescent, a young man. That diary was meant to be read by thousands of people. That wasn’t the kind of diary Tatiana wanted to keep. She wanted to keep one in which she could write down Alexander’s name and no one would read it. She wanted to have a room where she could say his name out loud and no one would hear it. Alexander. "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
193
" The next morning Tatiana was screaming from inside the cabin. Her shrieks carried to Alexander through the pines, over the sound of his ax falling down on the cracking wood. He dropped the axe and ran to the house to find her crouching on top of the high counter. Her legs were drawn up to her neck. “What?” he exclaimed, panting. “Shura, a mouse ran by my feet as I was cooking.” Alexander stared at the eggs on the hearth, at the small pot of bubbling coffee on the Primus stove, at the tomatoes already on their plates, and then at Tatiana, ascended a meter from the floor. His mouth reluctantly, infectiously drew into a wide grin. “What are you”—he was trying to keep from laughing—“what are you doing up there?” “I told you!” she yelled. “A mouse ran by and brushed his”—she shivered—“his tail against my leg. Can you take care of it?” “Yes, but what are you doing up there?” “Getting away from the mouse, of course.” She frowned, looking at him unhappily. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to catch it?” Alexander walked to the counter and picked her up. Tatiana grabbed his neck but did not put her feet down. He hugged her, kissed her, kissed her again with enormous affection, and said, “Tatiasha, you goose, mice can climb, you know.” “No they can’t.” “I’ve seen mice climb the pole of the commander’s tent in Finland, trying to get to the piece of food at the very top.” “What was food doing at the top of the tent pole?” “We put it there.” “Why?” “To see if mice could climb.” Tatiana almost laughed. “Well, you’re not getting breakfast, or coffee, or me in this house until that mouse is gone.” After carrying her outside, Alexander went back for the breakfast plates. They ate on the bench, side by side. Alexander turned and stared at her incredulously. “Tania, are you…afraid of mice?” “Yes. Have you killed it?” “And how would you like me to do that? You never told me you were afraid of mice. "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
194
" Yes, it’s too much to ask,” Alexander said when he returned with no ice (“Tomorrow”) but with an ax, a hammer and nails, a saw, a wood plane, and a kerosene-burning Primus stove. “I didn’t marry you so we could go over there every night.” He laughed. “You invited them inside? That’s very brave of you, my wife. Did you at least make the bed before they came in?” He laughed harder. Tatiana was sitting down on the cool iron hearth, shaking her head. “You’re just impossible.” “I’m impossible? I’m not going there for dinner, forget it. Why don’t you just invite them here afterward then, for the post-dinner vaudeville—” “Vaudeville?” “Never mind.” He dropped all of his goods on the floor in the corner of the cabin. “Invite them here for the entertainment hour. Go ahead. As I make love to you, they can walk around the hearth, clucking to their hearts’ content. Naira will say, ‘Tsk, tsk, tsk. I told her to go with my Vova. I know he could do it better.’ Raisa will want to say, ‘Oh, my, oh, my,’ but she’ll be shaking too much. Dusia will say, ‘Oh, dear Jesus, I prayed to You to spare her from the horrors of the marriage bed!’ And Axinya will say—” “‘Wait till I tell the whole village about his horrors,’” said Tatiana. Alexander laughed and then went to the water to swim. Tatiana nested inside the cabin, arranging their things, "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
198
" This was all given to me, he seemed to say. My body, my face, my height, my strength. I did not ask for it, I did not make it, I did not build it. I did not fight for it. This is a gift, for which I say my daily thanks as I wash and comb my hair, a gift I do not abuse or think of again as I go through my day. I am not proud of it, nor am I humbled by it. It does not make me arrogant or vain, but neither does it make me falsely modest or meek. "
― Paullina Simons , The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1)
