Lee hesitated. He doubted the Murrets would want to see him. They had failed to answer a letter he had written them from Russia, and he was afraid they disapproved of him for going there. But he did not turn Marina down. She found him instead curiously receptive, as if he half-welcomed the idea.
From Easter Sunday on, Lee and Marina discussed what they ought to do next. Ostensibly, Lee was looking for a job. But when Lyolya and John Hall drove over from Fort Worth to attend Easter services at one of the Orthodox churches and afterward went to see the Oswalds, they noticed that Lee was discouraged. He complained about the lack of job security in America and hinted that he was thinking of going back to Russia.[14] Marina tried to cheer him up. She pointed out that in America unemployment compensation is as high as an engineer’s salary in Russia. “You’ll have a rest,” she said, “and we’ll all have a paid vacation.” When that failed to cheer him up, she volunteered to go to work. She would take in ironing or find a job polishing silver. “No,” said Lee. “You’re my wife and it’s up to me to support you.”
Conceivably, it was Lee who subtly suggested the move to New Orleans and allowed the idea to sink in, rather than, as Marina supposed, she who suggested it and he who gradually picked it up. Either way, they were talking about it during the evening of Wednesday, April 17, when Lee suddenly agreed to move. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll show you New Orleans.” They did not set any date. But it is significant that Lee now knew that the de Mohrenschildts were soon to leave Dallas. With George gone, it would be easier for Lee to move, too.
Marina was greatly relieved, and on Saturday, April 20, she, Lee, and June went to a lake nearby to have a picnic with Ruth Paine and her children. But the next morning, Sunday, April 21, all her fears were revived. Lee went out early to buy a newspaper and some doughnuts, the two had breakfast together, and afterward—while Marina was doing the dishes, straightening the apartment, and dressing the baby—Lee sat in the living room and read the newspaper. It was the Dallas Morning News, which had a banner headline that day: “Nixon Calls for Decision to Force Reds Out of Cuba.” The lead story, accompanied by a front-page photograph of the former vice president, reported a speech that Richard Nixon had delivered the day before in Washington, accusing President Kennedy of being too soft on Castro and demanding a “command decision” to force the Russians out of Cuba. The speech could have been interpreted as a call for a new invasion.
Marina had no idea what Lee was reading. But she noticed after finishing her chores that he had laid the paper carefully on the coffee table as if he wanted her, or someone, to see it. Then she noticed that the door to his office was open, which was unusual. Suddenly Lee stood before her, dressed in his gray slacks, white shirt, and a tie. He had his pistol at his waist and was about to put on his best jacket. His face was white.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Nixon is coming to town. I am going to have a look.” He spoke slowly and with deliberation.
“I know what your ‘looks’ mean.”
Marina had no idea who Nixon was and she did not care.[15] She knew his life was in danger and that was enough. Thinking fast, she went into the bathroom and asked Lee to follow her there. Once he was inside, she squeezed herself out and shut the door. It was a door that could only be locked from inside, but Marina held it as hard as she could, bracing her feet against the wall.
“Let me out. Let me out,” Lee screamed. “Open the door!”
“I’ll do nothing of the kind,” Marina said. “How can you lie to me after you gave me your word? You promised me you’d never shoot anyone else and here you are starting in all over again. I’m pregnant. I can’t take it all the time. I could lose the baby and you wouldn’t even care.” Marina was hurt, angry, and in tears, with red nervous splotches all over her face, a frowsy little figure in her housecoat.
“Let me out!”
“Over my dead body I will. I have evidence against you. I’ll take it to the police.”
“You just try.”
Their tug of war lasted three minutes, with the advantage sometimes on her side, sometimes on his. Although she weighed less than one houndred pounds, Marina could summon up a wonderful, concentrated energy at moments like this. She had held Lee in the bathroom before at least once in their apartment in Fort Worth, and she was to do so three or four times again, in New Orleans, almost always to avoid a beating.
But her words seemed to unman him this time: “I could lose the baby because of you. You’ll have killed your own child.”
Lee relented. “Okay, I won’t do it. Open up.”
“Only if you give me your gun.”
“Okay. Only open the door.”
She opened it, and Lee came out. His face was red from exertion, and his eyes had the angry glitter she knew well.
Marina was trembling all over. She eyed him like a watchful bird.
“Give me the gun,” she said.
He handed it to her.
“Take off your clothes.”
He stripped to his T-shirt and shorts.
Marina went quickly into the bedroom carrying the revolver. She shoved it under the mattress without looking to see if it was loaded.
“If you’re going to keep me here all day,” he yelled, “at least give me something to read.”
She looked around for his book.
“Over there, on the coffee table,” he said.
She brought it to him. Then she took away his shoes. For two or three hours Lee sat on the toilet seat, reading with the door closed. Marina could not see him, but she kept her eyes on the door and her ears alert for any sound.
Finally, at three or four in the afternoon, he came out of the bathroom and sat in the living room, reading in the undershorts that were all Marina would allow him. They did not exchange a word. Toward evening, he carried the baby to her bath and sat with her, naked, in the tub. They played more quietly than usual, and he did not use baby talk.
It was only now, when he was naked and in the bathtub, that Marina let him out of her sight. She ran downstairs and bolted all the doors, including the backyard gate. She wanted to make sure that if she was busy later on, cooking or getting the baby to bed, she would hear him if he tried to get out, hear him fiddling with the locks.
Marina ate her supper first, eyeing Lee warily the whole time. Then, with a contemptuous air, as if she were keeping a prisoner, she allowed him to come to the table—“You may eat if you wish.”
He brought his book to the table, and neither of them spoke for the rest of the evening.
As they were getting ready to go to bed, he asked if he might have his pistol back.
“No.”
He rummaged through all the drawers. “Where did you hide it?”
“You can have it—but only if you promise you’ll never do that again.”
“I promise.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if our baby is born insane. I can’t stand it any more. Either the baby will be crazy or I will.”
“Okay, give me my gun and I’ll put it back where it belongs.”
15
Marina later remembered that she had seen Nixon in newsreels while she was living in Leningrad and that in 1959, in Minsk, she had watched the famous Khrushchev-Nixon “kitchen debate” in newsreels or on television.