Efrosinia laid a compress on her daughter’s forehead and looked reprovingly at her. “Well, Marusia, you went to the dance and now look what’s happened to you. You’re white as a ghost.” Then, angrily, “They took you there but they couldn’t bother to bring you back. Moujiks! Just let them try and set foot in my house again!”
“Mother, keep your voice down, please.” The girl massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers to alleviate the pain in her head.
“Don’t you ‘mother’ me. Of course I’m your mother, I’m not your stepmother. If those two come anywhere near this house again, I’ll chase them off like a pair of dogs. And that one, what’s his name, Kulik? To think he even managed to win the old man over!”
At that moment Valentyn came into the room. Stroking his beard, he whispered in his wife’s ear, “Let her rest. How do you expect her to recover if you never leave her alone?” He took the towel and basin from her hands, and setting them on the night table, pulled her out of the room.
Downstairs, in the hallway, he fidgeted, feeling compelled to approach her about something. Efrosinia watched him intently, guessing his intention. And just as she had expected, at last he came out with it.
“Efrosinia, let’s be sensible about all this. Somehow it just doesn’t seem right. It’s about my trip to Lvov. How am I supposed to travel back home with Lonia on a crowded train? He might need medical attention. He’ll be extremely uncomfortable and his condition might even get worse. And what if there are no seats available? Furthermore, the doctors might even refuse to discharge him from the hospital.”
Folding her arms over her chest, Efrosinia narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot. She allowed him to go on.
“Uh, as I was saying, what I’m suggesting is that Lonia get better first, and then let him come home when he’s fit to travel. Yes, that would make the most sense. I can certainly go tomorrow, but that might not be the best idea, uh, for Lonia, that is. And besides, Lonia is almost an engineer, it’s just a matter of months before he gets his diploma …”
At that point, Efrosinia lost her patience and flew at him. “I see where you’re going with this, old man. Talking in circles, as always. You have the money to buy your ticket and still you drag your feet! Marusia develops a slight fever and out of nowhere you feel obligated to nurse her back to health.” Clutching his arm, she became more exasperated. “I’m going to get you on that train if it’s the last thing I do. And shave off that ridiculous beard of yours and make yourself presentable! You can’t be looking like that in Lvov!”
It was not long before a full-blown fight erupted. The shouting and screaming became so heated that the house seemed to shake. Marusia, unable to endure it any longer, got out of bed, stumbled to the top of the staircase and shouted for her mother. Efrosinia hurried out of the room to tend to her daughter.
Left alone, Valentyn went into the kitchen. He was more than grateful for this moment of respite. Spreading himself out on the divan, he put his feet up and fell into a doze. Barely ten minutes had passed when he was awakened by a strange grumbling noise. It was rather loud and raspy and was coming from somewhere in his body, beneath his chest. Before long he realized it was his stomach. It occurred to him that he had not eaten anything all day. Efrosinia had not only not prepared lunch for him but she hadn’t made supper either, and now it appeared he was expected to go to bed without any food. Efrosinia had even neglected to light the stove, something she did dutifully every evening.
Valentyn grew more and more gloomy. The New Year, without question, was getting off to a bad start. He realized things were going badly for him. Perhaps he should give in to her demands, just get on that train and go to Lvov — at least then he would be left in peace. He pondered a moment. No, her expectations were unreasonable; she was simply unable to grasp the complexity of the situation. The more he thought about it, the more he felt a wrong was being done him. And he knew at that moment that he had to build himself up and stand up to her. But she wouldn’t put up with it and in the end he would lose. No matter how he looked at it there was only one road for him to take, and that was the road to Lvov. Getting up, limping out into the hallway, he resolved to get it over with, to finally give in to her. He called out hoarsely, “Have it your way, old woman. Give me the money and first thing tomorrow I’ll go to the station and buy myself a ticket.”
At the sound of these words, Efrosinia flew down the stairs. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you want the money?”
“How else do you expect me to buy the ticket?”
Efrosinia shook her head. “No, no, no. I won’t give you the money, not in a million years. Do you think for one minute I trust you? No! I’ll go with you tomorrow and I’ll buy the ticket for you. The train leaves at eleven in the morning. I’ve already made up three parcels for you to take with you. Now go get some sleep. You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”
Valentyn’s stomach growled and he felt weak in the knees and exhausted. “You expect me to go to bed on an empty stomach? Oh, Efrosinia, your heart is made of stone. When I’m dead and buried, think of how you treated me.”
“When you’re dead and buried what difference will it make to you?”
It was not long before they started up again. Insults flew back and forth, doors banged, there were threats and shouts.
Marusia listened anxiously to her parents. But this time she was not so much disturbed by their arguing as she was by the manner in which they chose to do it. She couldn’t help but hear what was being said, and she cringed at every word. It was the worst possible scene she could have imagined: they were going at each other in Ukrainian! Why couldn’t they do it in Russian? And why did they have to use such dreadful Ukrainian phrases as “May you get cholera and die!” or “You old scarecrow in a pea field!” Pulling the covers over her head, she felt overwhelmingly distressed and embarrassed. She envied her friends whose parents were able to maintain well-balanced arguments in Russian without using even the slightest Ukrainian word. Why couldn’t her parents do the same? She vowed to herself that when she married, all her arguments with her husband would be in Russian and Russian only.
From downstairs there came more expletives, more wailing, knocking, then a heavy thud, as if something went smashing against the wall. When at last the front door slammed, Marusia knew it was her father storming out of the house.
Silence reigned. She closed her eyes, and tried to nod off. Bits and pieces of thoughts floated across her mind; she began to reflect on the New Year’s Eve dance. Why had she run off so suddenly? And who was that tall dark-haired girl dancing with Kulik? Where did she come from? Could she, Marusia, possibly be jealous of her? No! No! Marusia shuddered. “He’s just a moujik. How could I have feelings for a moujik? True, he’s managed to obtain an education and manners of sorts, but that language of his. Good Lord!”
Trying to redirect her thoughts, taking a sip of water from a glass her mother had put on her night table, she heard a vigorous knock on her door. To her surprise Kulik appeared on the threshold.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
“Good evening, Marusia. I’ve only come for a minute. You’re quite pale, if I may say so.”