A tremendous feeling of grief and sadness overcame Kulik. The old woman had such a huge burden to bear, as she sat there on the sofa alone and powerless, a mere bundle. But she started to recover herself. A smile came to her lips. And indeed, when she spoke, to Kulik’s surprise she did so quite easily, even matter-of-factly. For some reason she began to recount the events of her day. She looked straight at him, and seemed to be addressing him directly, but she didn’t seem to see him.
“I went to the train station today and waited for the train from Lvov. I expected Lonia to be on the five-thirty-five, but he wasn’t. I waited three hours for the next train. Hundreds of people got off, carrying all kinds of bundles and parcels. They were all bumping into each other and squeezing through the gates. I searched for Lonia, but again he was nowhere to be seen. Then my old man showed up and tried to get me to go home. But I made up my mind to stay on and wait for the express train to arrive in an hour and a half because I was sure Lonia would be on board. Valentyn said he would stay and wait with me, but that was only because he didn’t want a scene. Then the train came and there was no Lonia. I wanted to wait for the next one, coming in at dawn. I was ready to spend the night on one of the benches. Then my old man came up with a very good point. ‘What if Lonia decides to come by truck? There are a lot of trucks on the road these days traveling back and forth carrying supplies. He might easily hitch a ride with one of them.’ So I finally agreed to come home. But, as you can see, I didn’t find my Lonia waiting for me here. No, all I found was a thief trying to break in through the living room window — and you.”
When Efrosinia finished she stared before her as if she hadn’t said anything at all. She seemed oblivious to everything around her. Then she turned to Kulik. “Well, young man, tell me, what’s brought you to Pinsk?”
Kulik sat down on the sofa. He was about to answer, when suddenly from beneath him came an incredibly loud squeak. The squeak was so loud that even Valentyn, who had just sauntered into the room, gave a start.
Efrosinia turned on her husband. “Did you just hear that, old man? It was the sofa again! Are you ever going to fix it?” Then to Kulik, “Look at him, he doesn’t care about anything. And he calls himself man of the house! Man of the house, hah! What do you think, young man, is he a man like all other men?” She shook her head. “If this is a man like all other men, then God help the species!”
Valentyn’s face reddened with anger. “This time you’ve really outdone yourself, old woman.”
“Outdone myself? Does the truth hurt? The only good thing you’ve done lately is shave off that ugly beard of yours. And how long did that take you? Three months!”
She stopped short. Her mouth quivered and she buried her head in her hands, shaking with sobs and muttering to herself, her lips barely moving. Clasping her hands, she cried, “Oh, Lonia, my poor Lonia.” Then again she seemed to rally. Seizing Kulik’s arm, she stared into his eyes. “What do you think, young man, did my Lonia really get married? Yes, he did! He got married, I know he did.” In a sort of trance, she smiled strangely. “I was there, at the wedding, and it was the most beautiful one I have ever seen. The church bells rang for the whole town to hear. My Lonia looked very handsome, all dressed in black. And I saw his bride too. How lovely she is, so tall and strong and self-reliant.”
Marusia rushed at her and shook her, “Mother, stop it! Stop it right now! What are you saying? You’ve got to pull yourself together. You’re letting your imagination run away with you again.” She whispered to Kulik, “Forgive Mother, she hasn’t been herself lately. As you can see she’s become so disoriented by everything. And she’s been having such terrible mood swings. I’m so afraid something inside of her may be snapping.”
She tried to get her mother to go up and lie down, but Efrosinia resisted her.
Kulik could see the old woman was being torn apart. He had never felt so sorry for anyone as he did for her. No sooner did he feel this way, when Efrosinia seemed to change again, and this time there was a gleam in her eye. Looking at Kulik, she said cheerfully, “Ivan, how nice of you to come and visit us. Come on, get up, take Marusia by the hand and let me take a good look at you. What a pair! Your hair is black as coal and my daughter’s is soft like cotton batting. Go on, walk across the room. Let me take a good look.”
“Oh, Mother, please!” The girl flushed. “Don’t you know when to stop?”
But Efrosinia concentrated on Kulik, measuring him carefully. “Just look at him, Marusia. My, my, what a fine young man he is, moujik or no moujik. How is it that I didn’t see this before? He has such a proud walk, like a true gentleman. So tall and robust, not to mention handsome and educated.” She threw a contemptuous glance at her husband. “He’s nothing like you, you old goat. You clawed me like an animal. And if you had been let loose in some fine home, you would have broken all the furniture. Take a good look at him, it’s never too late to learn a thing or two.”
Valentyn snarled, “Don’t you think you’ve said enough for one night, old woman? Why don’t you just go and lock yourself up in your room and give us some peace and quiet for a change.”
“You want to get rid of me? Why? So you can entertain our young visitor and drink your vodka? Is that your plan? Well, I assure you, I’m far from finished.”
From the window the almost-full moon threw pale streaks of light upon the four walls. A warm breeze rustled the curtains.
Efrosinia fixed her attention once more on Kulik. “Ivan, when I look at you I think of my Lonia. He’s about your age, big and strong, and his hair is dark like yours, only his eyes are brown, not gray and deep-set.” Then, with hope, “Maybe you could help me. You’re young and full of energy. Maybe you could go to Lvov and find Lonia. You could bring him home to me. Will you? Yes? Bless you, son, bless you.”
Encouraged, Efrosinia managed to calm down. She gave her arm to her daughter who drew her into another room.
Valentyn was more than happy to be rid of his wife. Spreading himself comfortably on the sofa, he would have the rest of the evening to himself, without her nagging presence. He lit his pipe. “So, young man, tell me, was there ever an independent Ukraine?”
Kulik was not in a talkative mood, but he forced a reply: “Ukraine has never been a sovereign state, except in the time of Bohdan Khmelnytsky. This was in the summer of 1657, before Belorussia and Russia existed.” Feeling increasingly annoyed and impatient, he tried to change the subject. “Why talk about the past when there’s no place for it in our lives anymore? These are new times and we must learn to cope with what lies ahead.”
Just then Marusia came into the room. How radiant she is, Kulik thought, that glowing complexion, those moist lips. He felt a wave of excitement. All he wanted at that moment was for the old man to stop his incessant chattering and go off to bed.
But Valentyn, refilling his pipe, went on more loudly. “All in all, I’d say life under the Czar was better than it is now. In fact, the officers in the Czar’s army don’t even begin to compare to today’s NKVD men. There used to be more respect for the individual, wouldn’t you say?”
Kulik answered, “And what about the moujiks? Do you think they also were more respected in the days of the Czar?”
Valentyn gave this question serious consideration. He was delighted to have the undivided attention of such a fine and learned visitor. “Moujiks, since the beginning of time, have been destined to live lives of poverty and degradation,” he said. “However, if and when they resettled into the cities and acquainted themselves with the finer things in life they were able to think differently. Take me, for example. I was born in a village — in other words, I was born a moujik, and then I became a cabinetmaker. When I lived under the Poles, I took it upon myself to learn Polish, and now that the Russians have taken over I taught myself to speak Russian. And learning Russian was the best thing I could have done for myself and my family. Life became easier. Today when I walk out in the street my neighbors call out: there goes Valentyn Nikodimovich. See how it is, now people always address me by my patronymic, even people I barely know. Villagers live in the dark, they hardly even know what patronymic means! I don’t talk like a moujik anymore, no, I talk like a Russian. I’ve become accepted wherever I go, and people look up to me.” He said to Kulik, “You talk of the new times we live in and how we must learn to cope with them, but why do you resist everything that’s going on around you? How do you singlehandedly propose to fight the established new law? You’ll only lose. It’s better to join them than to fight them.”