Читать книгу Paper Doll - Tetiana Tikhovska - Страница 3

White, dazzling snow. Black, greasy soil.

Agatha is standing near the freshly-dug grave at the central municipal cemetery. Thoughts are jerking slower and weaker, similar to a bird caught in a net, and finally fade away. But this monotonous movement drives her crazy. It must be some kind of Chinese tortures: drop, another drop. Isn’t that a burden, heavy enough for a little tender woman? What an ordeal is to outlive her own daughter at the end of her own life, which was far from being cloudless. The war[2] had just finished, her daughter had two children and a husband. It seemed the real life was only beginning. Is forty-two the age to perish forever? What a torture it is to bury your own child, the first one, beloved, forlorn, the most beautiful. Wasn’t that the fate read from her hand by a gypsy fortune-teller long ago? The old woman wouldn’t say what she saw as she didn’t want to spoil Agatha’s years of happiness with an ominous prediction.

…It all began in Volyn[3]. Agatha was nearly flying home from a party. Her heart was beating sweetly and painfully: she was invited to a dance by such a beauty of a guy; he must be a prince, for sure. It’s a joke, really. The last Polish king must have been ruling this country a hundred years ago[4]! Really, what princes can survive in the hell of a tiny town like Ratne? It has always been on the outskirts of the Russian Empire then, while the Polish were ruled by the Polish King. But who could the young man be, otherwise? He was wearing French uniform with shining buttons, sewn with edgings all over. There was a coat of arms on his casquette. He was of enormous height: Agatha could hardly reach his breast with the highest point of her hair-do.

But when he knelt to ask her for a tour of mazurka, their eyes were nearly at the same level.

What eyes did he have! Greenish, dreamy in the frame of long golden lashes. His hair and moustache with turned-up corners were of the same golden color. He led her to the middle of the dance hall, where they were the only dancing pair. The whole world vanished, dissolved. The hall, the windows, the guests – all of them moved, whirled and finally melted into a bouncing rainbow. The only distinguishable thing there was him, him and the dance, that united them, brought them here and there, separated and united again, quicker, then slower until Agatha fell into her partner’s lap exhausted. And he caught the girl with one hand only and raised her in the air for a moment just before the magic ended. Agatha’s heart was violently beating, she was hot in the face, and her eyes sought to meet the green eyes of Stas.

Jesus Maria! How could she fall in love heels over ears in no time?

She tramped into a gypsy woman carrying a baby. Mum had warned her: never speak to gypsies. You will be enchanted, kidnapped and stolen of money. Moreover, they are spoken of as baby-kidnappers. Yet Agatha has no money. And she has no kids to kidnap. She is a child herself, she is only sixteen.

Maybe it’s worth asking the gypsy to tell the fortune about her Prince? Mum will never know. If the prediction pleases Agatha, she will present the fortune- teller with her ring.

– Let me tell you your fortune, sweetie!

– I have no money.

– Never mind. Show me your palm.

She took Agatha’s left hand and studied it during a long time.

Agatha lost her patience.

– I will live a long and happy life, I presume?

– Your life will be long.

She turned away abruptly and left without saying anything more.

“At least my ring remains with me”, Agatha thought and speeded home. She hardly stepped on the porch when the words flew out of her mouth:

– Mum! I danced with a prince!

There were only Agatha’s two younger brothers in the cozy room: Danya[5] and Fonya[6]. Fonya was a shy, dreamy boy who acknowledged his two years senior brother’s superiority in everything. Yet Danya was a browbeater and inventor of all kinds of pranks.

Mum looked up from her embroidery and asked with a kind but ironic smile:

– Really? With a prince?

– Oh, Mum! He’s so handsome! Such a uniform! And shiny buttons, and chevrons!

“There are hundreds of suchlike ‘princes’ at the railway station”,– that was Fonya’s commentary from his cubbyhole. And he shrieked at once being punched by his senior brother. He shouldn’t have said this! But it was too late. Mum was turning to them in full size, her eyes burning: “Who let you stray about the station again?”

The new railway station, not far from the town, was a real nuisance for every mother having a son. It attracted naughty kids as if it were a magnet.

The construction being still in process, it lured boys who managed to flee from their parents’ strict surveillance to see the magic – the road; and, if lucky, to filch a heavy steel nut for a fishing sinker.

The railway was passing a swamp. Marshy ground would swallow up the dams as if taking revenge for disturbing its age-old peace. Local farmers were engaged in digging and construction works but they took to work reluctantly. Only the poorest agreed to work under such conditions. The working day lasted 12–14 hours a day, the workers lived in mud-huts (zemlyankas[7]), where you could feel water under your feet. Accidents and diseases were far from being rare. The constructors were lack of time. The Tsarist Russia wanted to boost trade with the West, and the absence of roads prevented them from getting immediate profits.

If you go straight to the station you can easily get trapped by the quagmire. That is for sure until winter comes and the path will be covered with ice. This is how mother found out about her sons’ raids to the railway. Fonya got his brother’s high-quality boots when he was eight. They were a little loose for the boy.

They both set off to the station. The spring was late that year. The ground did not take in thawed snow, saying nothing about drying out. And alas! Danya got caught in the quagmire and was being slowly swallowed up by the deceptive swamp. Danya managed to pull his brother out of the swamp but they had to sacrifice one of the boots. It goes without saying the brats were taught an unforgettable and the most instructive lesson.

Having heard the conversation, Tina, Agatha’s sister, came into view and called her. You can hardly imagine two sisters being so different. Agatha was short, tender, elegant, narrow-shouldered and with little feet. Her features were like drawn with a sharp pencil, dark thick straight hair reached the beginning of her neck where you could see just a few stray curls. Yet her younger sister was tall (much taller than Agatha, actually), muscular and everything was excessive for a girl her age: a huge crooked nose, a mouth too big for her face, big feet. Her hair was too curly and too difficult to take care of. But despite her appearance Tina was good-tempered, far from being envious and she adored her lovely elder sister. There were kids sleeping in the room (Katya and Panya), so they went on talking in a whisper:

– Tell me, please. What is his name?

– Stanislav. Stas.

– Did you like him?

– You bet!

– Stanislav. Stas.

– Did you kiss?

– Are you crazy?! We just met each other!

– Did he propose to you?

– Tina! You really are crazy! We only danced together. But that was like a fairy tale!

– But if he makes a proposal, will you marry him? Tell me, please, will you marry him?

…One Saturday evening (to say honestly, such deals were made when it was dark enough not to let any trouble peep into the house) there was a loud knock on the door. There was a marshalok[8] that started with the ambiguous: “Have you got a heifer to sell?”[9]

A few conventional questions being asked, the host invited the guest for dinner. The table was promptly covered with a knitted tablecloth, then the guests were provided with a bottle of horilka[10] but he wouldn’t sit down as was prescribed by the tradition. Being an expert in the wedding affairs, he kept in mind some signs of successful undertaking. He knew for sure: if he sat down at once, there would be no trade.

But if the host uncorks the bottle – you have caught the fortune by the tail. You got the parents’ blessing! Marshalok left the house, but he was soon back accompanied by the groom’s parents.

The father when crossing the porch nearly hit the pryvartsabok[11] with his head – he was far from medium height. And the groom’s mother was his match. The details of the marriage were agreed on the same day.

Agatha was an Orthodox, but Stas was a Catholic. Yet both parents peacefully agreed to hold the wedding ceremony in a kost’ol[12]. This way, the marriage was to be acknowledged by both religious branches. The same day it was agreed that the groom’s parents will provide board and bed for the newlyweds for two years.

On the wedding’s eve, early in the morning, Stas’ druzhba[13] rode around the town. He put some bells on his horse’s neck to be heard in every house.

Druzhba was accompanied by the musicians. There was some hrayok[14] among them. His music was said of to be able to awaken the most powerful passion in the hardest hearts. Druzhba would stop at every homestead and invite the dwellers to the wedding.

The wedding started on Sunday. From the early morning the bride’s parents had been looking for the groom. And Agatha was being robed into the wedding dress as the custom demanded. Everything was white from head to toes: dress, stockings, shoes and long bridal veil. Agitated though she was, Agatha was aware not to forget to take some pieces of sugar. She grabbed them into her little palm to treat the horse in the wedding carriage.

Before the departure the young couple was blessed by the parents, and the bride’s mother tossed osypanky[15] onto all people. Everybody caught them. The old belief is that the wedding osypanky grounded into finest powder would cure sick people and cattle. Agatha’s mother did not go to the church – only the father did. Keeping to the custom, he led the bride through the whole church and brought her to Stas and handed his daughter over to a decent man.

– I take you for a hand! – The groom gave the wedding vow.

– I take you for a hand! – The bride replied.

– Till death do us part.

– Till death do us part…

Finally the newlyweds left the church. “What a nice couple!” was heard now and then. The druzhba had got his hands stiff – the groom was rather tall to hold the wedding crown over his head for quite a time. The procession headed for the groom’s homestead. Before the porch Stas promptly raised Agatha as if she were just a feather and brought her into the room. The old belief demands that to be done to trick the evil forces. Presumably, they won’t notice the new dweller if she doesn’t set foot on the porch on the first day.

The gusts were very hungry, awaiting for the young couple to return. No wonder! The tables were abundant with delicious food and drinks: korovai[16], roasted piglet, kholodets[17], borshch[18] and dumplings, fried chicken… Before trying another dish the guests would cry: “The borshch is bitter! The cabbage is bitter!”[19]. That was repeated until the groom figured out what he was expected to do: kiss his young wife.

The dancing, singing and fun went on till dawn. Only then the newlyweds, accompanied by traditional jokes, wishes and sayings, were allowed to leave the dining room, proceed to their bedroom and stay private. There was a huge bed in the room – actually, all the furniture was too big for Agatha. The pillows of all sizes were piled on the bed – from the biggest to the tiniest one. Agatha looked under the bed and saw some amber stones – to drive away evil forces.

Agatha adapted to the new family quite easily. In the evenings she would go up to the streets crossing to meet her husband from work.

Stas bent his arm as a gentleman, she took his elbow and they went unhurriedly, talking about the latest news at work, at home, elsewhere.

– You see, darling. The railway track in Russia is wider than that in Europe. So there is a place at the station where the two tracks of different width meet. The train comes, passengers go out, and the wheels under the carriage are replaced.

– O horror! What if the carriage falls down just where you are standing?

– It is supported by strong mechanisms, it won’t fall.

– Generally speaking, why not travel by horse-driven carriages – it’s much safer and more fun!

– The horses can run away; moreover, no horse can overtake trains.

– A brave man can stop horses! But who will stop a train if it gets crazy?

– That’s just impossible, my sweetheart. The train will only go where it is directed to. If you don’t wander under the wheels you will be safe.

Agatha did not particularly like trains – she was afraid of them, actually. Yet she had never seen one. But she loved horses. She liked unhurried journeys on top of a loaded wagon or just riding a horse. She liked it when horses recognized her: she always remembered to take some sugar to treat it to her favorites. But she also loved being told serious ‘manly’ working problems as if she were equal to her educated husband. His low velvet voice made her thrill – she’d rather the road never came to an end.

One day when Stas was telling his tale of the railroad, Agatha, despite her favorite routine, was not listening, but her thoughts wandered somewhere far away. Stas interrupted his story.

– Is everything OK at home?

Agatha stopped, turned her face to Stas and kept silent for a long time. Then she said the words lots of women used to say to their beloved ones.

– We’re going to have a baby.

And Stas, like lots of other men, felt happy and a bit disturbed.

– A baby? A boy? A boy!

He took his wife in his laps, then raised her and was carrying her for the rest of the way. He was carrying her as if she were a crystal vase full of precious water, and he couldn’t split a drop of it.

One night Stanislav was awakened by his wife’s weeping. He looked at Agatha anxiously: would it be good to ask her something or would it be better not to disturb her. They were waiting for the child to be born.

– Are you OK, sweetheart?

– Well, yes, everything is fine.

– Why are you crying, then?

– Jesus Maria, what a happy thing I am! Good gracious! I won’t live without you!

– Why are you going to live without me? We’ll live long and happily ever after, like king and queen in a fairy tale.

– That’s exactly what the old gypsy told me.

– Maybe she happened to know who we are going to have first: a boy or a girl.

– Well, no… But I’d rather have it pretty as a picture… no matter who it is going to be. I want it to be pretty like you, darling.

– Like you, honey.

Children (even inside the mother’s belly) are said to be overhearing everything said around.

The baby born soon after the events we know about, happened to have heard everything that her parents were saying. It could not stick either to mother or to father. It was a girl with one brown eye, like her mother had, and the other one green, like her father’s.

She was named Drosida as the church calendar demanded. But everybody called her Dina for short. Besides, Dina sounded more nicely.

Stas was hilarious, he couldn’t help gazing at his pretty daughter. But soon afterwards, like all the other men, he began asking his wife:

– Would you mind having a son, say, in a year?

– But what if it will be daughter again?

– Well, you will keep on trying until you are lucky. So, let’s start!

– Start what?

– Training.

Agatha had used to drive Stas away from her room before the girl was born. She had said ‘it’ could harm the baby. But they didn’t have to take cautions! Stas decided that he had been patient for long enough. To say honestly, he was missing his flourishing wife.

After giving birth to her first baby she became a bit plumper, her skin was marble white and looked appealing on her arms, breasts…

Agatha got what her husband was driving at. She threw the smallest pillow at him but couldn’t help laughing.

– Aren’t you ashamed?

– Why should I be ashamed? I want to have a son. That’s all. So when are we going to start?

The two years that the young couple could be staying at the husband’s parents’ home were coming to an end. Stas and Agatha managed to save a little bit of money to buy a house – small, but it would be their own house, with nobody to live next door to them.

One day Stas came home high-spirited.

– Honey, would you mind moving to Warsaw? I was made a proposal to enter High School of Railway Engineers.

Agatha had never left her home town before. It was there that her parents, brothers, sisters lived. Panya and Katya used to come around now and then. They would play with the little niece that began exploring all the rooms crawling backwards. Agatha knew the town as the palm of her hand. And her aunt and her family lived nearby, right across the street; and her grandmother was buried at the town cemetery – she died very young just after giving birth to her baby, and the hills here are so beautiful, and…

– Sure, sweetheart, when are we leaving? That will be great.

Soon afterwards, they were ready to set off. Agatha saw a railway station for the first time in her life. But how much she had heard of it! They were to travel by the “St Petersburg – Warsaw” train. All Agatha’s family came to see her off. First they heard a long rumbling noise as if some pre-historic monster was calling its friend. Then a big black train pulled in. It had begun braking beforehand in order to stop just opposite the station. And then multi-colored carriages rushed past: blue, yellow, and green. The magnificent Russian coat-of-arms was imprinted on the carriage; giving it an air of ominous solemnity.

When the locomotive stopped, all the passengers hurried out on the platform, and the train was being delivered to the spare railway to have its wheels replaced for the ones of European standard[20]. The departure ceremony was repeated once again. Danya was wandering round the station, obviously bored with all those cries and weeping. He longed to rush somewhere far and not to be with the remaining lot.

Stas and his family were to travel in a blue carriage, that is – by the first class. Due to high prices the carriages were half-empty, but it was not the question of money with Stas. He earned quite enough to travel comfortably.

Agatha kissed her Mum and sisters for the last time and cautiously got onto the train. It looked unexpectedly cozy inside: two soft sofas, velvet curtains with fringes, and a carpet. There was a snow-white napkin on the table.

The train started. Its first movements incomprehensible, then faster and faster, and the home town was left behind: the platform, relatives, Agatha’s childhood and young years fading, vanishing, dissolving in the surrounding scenery.