Эльвира Барякина - Russian Treasures

“But what if that doesn’t suit me? For me, it’s much more convenient to write an article and sell it to an exploiter.”

“Pah!” Osip spat in disgust. “Why do you always bring everything back to yourself?”

“All right then, let’s talk about you. What class are you?”

“I’m a worker, of course. What else?”

“I don’t think so. You haven’t worked in a factory since 1914. You’re a bureaucrat just like my father.”

Osip laughed. He was amused by the comparison with the Public Prosecutor.

Klim feigned innocence. “What are you laughing at? Who rides the workers? Who produces nothing but paperwork?”

“But I don’t assume the products of someone else’s labor.”

“Really? Then where do your party rations come from? Some might say you’re an exploiter yourself.”

“I’ve never heard such rubbish in my life!” Osip exclaimed, blood rushing to his face.

“That’s exactly what my father used to say.”

Nina pleaded with Klim to stop arguing with Osip. “What if he gets angry and does something to harm you?”

But Klim thought that the arguments with Osip were helping them find common ground.

“Osip doesn’t trust anyone, you see. He thinks everyone is out to exploit him, but he feels safe with me because he knows exactly what to expect. He’s lonely, and all he’s trying to do is make friends.”

“But you’re completely different from one another.”

“So what? We’re honest, and we respect each other.”

“You respect Osip?” Nina asked in surprise.

“Absolutely.”

3

The pregnancy took its toll on Lubochka. First, she suffered from sickness and then from back pain. She was terribly anxious that she might not be able to carry on working at the canteen after having her baby. If she lost her job and access to provisions, how could she hope to feed a child? She no longer put her faith in Osip. Recently, he seemed to have lost interest in everything except his precious Military Commissariat, his card games, and his political discussions. He wasn’t happy at all about her pregnancy and treated her as though she had a serious illness.

She tried to alarm him by telling him that Sablin had become particularly attentive toward her, but Osip didn’t believe a pregnant woman could be of any interest to any man in his right mind.

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

It was true. Lubochka had all but lost what looks she had. Her thighs, chest, and neck had puffed up, and her fingers were now so fat that her rings no longer fit her.

“Will I stay like this?” Lubochka pestered Sablin. “Why don’t you say anything? You’re a doctor. You should know.”

“It’s not really my field,” Sablin said, averting his gaze.

Anton Emilievich also felt nervous about her situation.

“If you ask me, you made a bad choice,” he told Lubochka one day. “You couldn’t have found yourself a worse husband.”

She lost her temper. “If it weren’t for Osip, we wouldn’t be living in this house, and there would be no canteen.”

“Look at you now weeping and wailing,” Anton Emilievich said. “And where is he? Playing cards with Klim, that’s where. You were the one who brought your cousin here, so it serves you right.”

4

Lubochka had gathered various strands of love under one roof. For Sablin, she felt the sort of pitying love that one feels for a child; she loved Osip for his ability to provide for her, but her passion was reserved for Klim and Klim alone.

Lubochka watched him sitting in the armchair and writing something down in the notebook she had given him. He scratched his thick eyebrow and chuckled to himself. He had probably thought of a joke but didn’t want to share it with anyone yet.

She cherished every memory of him ever touching her. The one when he had brought her a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders to keep her warm or when he had gently placed his hand on her belly after she had told him the baby was kicking.

Lubochka did her best to persuade herself that she wasn’t feeling jealous, but one day, as she was walking down the corridor, she heard Klim’s voice.

“If you cut my hair crooked,” he said, “that hard-boiled crew will laugh me out of the classroom.”

The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar. Lubochka tiptoed to it and saw Klim sitting on a low stool. His shoulders were covered with a white sheet, and he was trying to sit still while Nina trimmed his hair.

“How much longer?” he asked.

“Hold on a minute.”

She blew the cut hair from his neck and took the sheet off his shoulders. Lubochka had never seen her cousin half-naked like this before. She drank in the sight of his broad, swarthy back and his reflection in a mirror—his chest covered with dark hair and the narrow strip of hair running down into the waistband of his trousers.

“I think it’s turned out well,” Nina said. “Do you want me to cut a little more from the left side?”

“No, I don’t.”

Suddenly, Klim pulled Nina close to him.

“Stop—” she gasped. “What if someone—”

He lifted his wife and put her on a low cabinet by the wall. Klim parted Nina’s knees and pressed himself to her, and Lubochka felt as though her heart was about to burst. Nina put her arms around him and sank onto his shoulder. Suddenly, her gaze met Lubochka’s.

“Don’t forget to clean up after yourselves,” Lubochka said and staggered to the kitchen, scarlet with emotion and with tears starting in her eyes.

1

Osip met Klim after the lecture.

“I’ve arranged everything. Get your team ready—you leave at nine this evening.”

“Where am I going?” Klim asked.

“The Whites have broken the front near Kursk. Morale is low, and soldiers are deserting, so, the army’s political administration is summoning all of the propaganda reserves. The propaganda car stays here, I’m afraid. You’ll travel in a separate compartment, and you can find yourself a transport when you get there. Here’s your warrant.” Osip handed Klim a piece of paper. “I called the Cheka office—the secretary will wait for you until six. Bring your team’s employment cards, and she’ll give you all permission to leave. They’re expecting you in Kursk.”

Klim turned pale. “What about you?”

“I’m also going to the front, but not with you. My train leaves in two hours.” Osip squeezed Klim’s hand. “Stay faithful to the revolution! When you talk to the soldiers, remind them that the Red Army has to be invincible. If the Whites defeat us, they’ll restore the Tsarist government, bring back the landlords, and punish the workers for rebellion. They should remember that they have created the world’s first state of workers and peasants.”

2

Osip called in at the canteen to speak to Lubochka.

She went into the corridor holding a coffee grinder in her hands. “We got a hold of real coffee,” she said. “Smell!”

Osip dutifully inhaled the scent of the coffee but breathed out too hard so that the dark brown powder went all over Lubochka’s dress. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed.

She shook the coffee grounds from her skirt. “Don’t worry. I’ve gotten ten pounds of the stuff. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

Osip shook his head. “Thank you, no. I’ve come to ask a favor. Do you think you could visit my parents and bring them something—maybe bread or money?”

Lubochka looked at him, frowning. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to the front.”

“When?”

“Now. This moment.”

3

Lubochka dashed home with her heart thumping and tears running down her cheeks, still holding the coffee grinder in her hands. She wished that she could just drop down dead in the street. One minute she was cursing Osip, and the next, she was remembering how tightly he had held her when he had said goodbye.

She had begun to scream so loudly that the entire kitchen staff had run into the corridor to see what was going on.

Osip had looked at Lubochka with a pained expression. “You have to understand. Now isn’t the time to think only of saving your own skin.”

“I’m only thinking about our baby! Don’t you understand it could be left an orphan?”

She had told him that he didn’t love her anymore and would rather risk a bullet to the head than go on living with her. “Go to hell,” she had said. “Just see if I care.”

Osip had grabbed her by the arms.

“Don’t think badly of me, Lubochka,” he had said. “Drop me a line if you have a chance—I’ll look forward to getting a letter from you.”

4

On the porch of her house, Lubochka met Sablin. He looked unlike himself in his new soldier’s overcoat with a knapsack on his back.

“Where are you going?” Lubochka asked.

It was clear that Sablin wasn’t expecting to see her there. “I’m going to the front,” he said, tipping his cap.

She took a step backward and hit her back hard on the railing of the porch. “What do you mean? Have you all gone mad? You can’t go! What about your leg—”

She stopped as she heard the gate squeak. Nina and Klim ran into the yard.

“Dr. Sablin, we are ready,” Nina cried.

“Tell me what’s going on!” Lubochka demanded.

Klim looked at Nina. “Go with the doc. I’ll catch up with you two later.”

He took Lubochka gently by her shoulders. “We need to talk. Let’s go inside.”

They entered the house and went into Lubochka’s room glowing with the evening sun. She put the grinder on the table strewn with half-made swaddling clothes.

“Do you still have Nina’s employment card?” Klim asked.

“Yes,” Lubochka said.

“Is it at the canteen office?”

“No, it’s here.” She pointed at the safe that had once kept Klim’s father’s legacy. “The burglars often rob canteens, so I had to bring the papers here. Just in case.”

“Can I have it, please?”

Lubochka looked at him in surprise. “Is Nina going to leave her job?”

“Yes. We want to get out of Nizhny Novgorod,” Klim said. “Without her employment card, we can’t get permission from the Cheka.”

Finally, Lubochka realized that they were planning to escape from the land of the Soviets. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Klim. How dare he ask her for anything? She had given him shelter and helped him find work, and now, he was going to leave her alone and pregnant just when she had been abandoned by her husband.

“I hope this is some sort of joke,” she said and, beside herself, hurled the grinder at Klim. It missed and hit the wall, and coffee grounds scattered onto the carpet.

“Lubochka, don’t be ridiculous—” began Klim, but she interrupted him.

“Or what? Are you going to kill me to get into the safe? Come on, then, why don’t you? I know that physically you are more than a match for me, but you’re not getting the code from me no matter what.”

Klim sighed, walked to the safe, and pushed it over onto the carpet. Then he pressed at the bottom of the safe, which gave way. Putting his hand inside, Klim drew out a pile of papers.

“Father got this safe,” he said, “as a souvenir from the insurance company after he’d gotten two burglars sent to jail. They had opened the safe so neatly that no one could guess what had happened to the two hundred thousand rubles locked inside. The door was intact, and the lock closed. It was only later that the investigator realized they had cut out the bottom with a special tool from America.”

Tears streamed down Lubochka’s cheeks. “Why are you leaving me behind? You still don’t understand that I love you, do you?”

“Lubochka…” Klim said in a reproachful tone. “Possessing doesn’t mean loving.”

“Do you think Nina loves you? She wrecked your life. She took away everything you had. And I pulled you out of the mire, and after that, you—”

Klim put Nina’s employment card in his pocket. “I know you’ve done your best, and I’m very grateful. But Nina and I are unhappy here.” He paused, not knowing what to add. “Thanks for everything,” he said at last.

“Damn you!” Lubochka yelled after him as he left.

She stood in the middle of the room next to the overturned safe surrounded by scattered papers. The house was as quiet as an abandoned mine.

Gradually, it dawned on Lubochka that she had no one left. It had all happened so quickly! Clearly, Klim had planned his escape. While she had struggled to guarantee him benefits that ordinary people couldn’t have dreamed of, he had been plotting against her all of the time.