PART IX

Wanda regained consciousness lying on a stretcher in the van. She did not know immediately where she was, but she remembered what had happened when she saw the guard’s face. She closed her eyes again.

“Why am I still alive?” she asked herself. “Why do I have to go through this?”

Wanda was sent to a different cell. It was in a different section of the jail where prisoners waited to be transported to prison camps. She was told she could not correspond with prisoners in any other jail or prison camp. That meant she could not locate Kostya or find out how he was. This time Wanda had the bottom bunk. There were three women in the cell before she came because, only a few days before, a large group of prisoners had been transported.

She was asked the same questions as before, but she did not answer. She lay on the bed and turned her face to the wall. Someone shook her shoulder, and she heard her name spoken. The woman explained that it was suppertime. The guard who brought the food had asked if she were in the cell. Wanda sat on the edge of the bunk.

“Are you Wanda Stanishevsky?” the woman asked. “Why don’t you answer?”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“It’s suppertime. Give me your plate.”

“I don’t want anything,” Wanda said. “Leave me alone.” She lay down again.

“No, the situation is different now. If you stop eating, they’ll take you to the infirmary and feed you against your will,” said the woman whose bunk was across from Wanda’s. “Don’t be a fool. It doesn’t matter who you are. Take the food and eat. All of us have gone through this. I understand they gave you more time than you thought they would, and that shocked you. All of us received more than we deserved.”

Wanda looked at the woman. She was very young, with short, dark hair and very dark eyes.

“How old are you?” Wanda asked.

“I’m twenty-two. What’s the difference?”

“You look sixteen. You’re very young.”

“That’s because she doesn’t have much meat on her bones,” said another woman. “Going from jail to prison and prison to jail, she hasn’t had much good food.”

“Nobody asked you,” the girl said. “I can speak for myself.” Turning to Wanda, she said, “I heard your name is Wanda. You don’t look like you belong here. What sent you here?”

Wanda said nothing. She held the metal plate in her lap, kept her lips tightly closed, and looked down.

“We don’t have secrets here. Sooner or later, we’ll find out why you’re here. But if you try to be friendly, maybe we can help you. We have some communication with the free world from here. But if you try to keep everything inside, there’s nothing you can do by yourself.”

Wanda heard the words “free world” and became interested.

“What’s your name?” she asked the girl.

“Nusya. They called me that at home a long time ago, but here they call me Nuska.”

“Listen, Nusya. You’d like to know why I’m here? I’ll tell you, but not you or anyone else can help me. From the factory I took sausage to feed my two children. I’m a widow. Now they’ve given me ten years in prison, ordinary regime. Can you believe that?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, how in the world could you steal from the government? I’m here for stealing, too. The first time, they gave me two years. After six months of freedom, I’m here again, but now I have five years. We just worked in personal property, apartments and purses. We took things from people who had more than they were supposed to. This time, they caught us because of foolishness. We were going to burglarize an apartment, and make enough money for a while. Mitka, our partner, told us it was one down, had a lot of stuff, and nobody was home. When we got there, they were waiting for us. All three of us got five years.”

“How can that happen? You burglarized someone’s apartment, took someone’s property? And you got less than I did for taking sausages?”

“You’re so raw. You don’t know the articles of law. These are Lenin’s articles of law: political crimes, smuggling, bribery, plundering from the government, and so on. Not all of the articles can be appealed, and some carry mandatory sentences. When you steal private property, it’s a different article. Do you see the difference now?”

Wanda nodded, saying nothing.

“It’s not bad in prison camp. You can survive. What’s frightening is going through transport.”

“What’s transport?”

“It’s when prisoners are transferred from jail to prison camp. The journey is very long. But why should I tell you that? You’ll see for yourself.”

Wanda put her plate aside untouched.

“After all, Wanda,” Nusya continued, “you don’t understand anything. I told you you have to eat. In our world, nobody takes care of anybody else. You’re on your own, and you need to understand—you survive or you die—it’s all up to you. If somebody finds out you’ve stopped eating, you’ll be sent to be force-fed. If nobody finds out, you’ll just starve to death. You’ll never be free. You have no one to live for?”

“You’re so young,” Wanda said. “How did you come by all this wisdom?”

“It’s because I’ve been by myself all my life. I grew up homeless. I’ve known the streets from the time I was a little girl. I have enough experience of this dirty world.”

“And you’re not frightened of being alone in this life?”

“Everybody’s frightened, if you think about it. Nobody wants to die.”

“But what kind of life is this? Jail and prison camp.”

“Everybody has a place. This is my destiny. Do you believe in destiny, Wanda?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore after all that’s happened.”

From the top bunk, a very slender, sickly looking woman, of middle age, joined the conversation.

“I’m an example. Believe in God. Pray every day. Observe all fasts. It was the work of the devil and God did not intercede.”

“What are you here for?” Wanda asked, looking at the convicted woman.

“She’s here for the ‘wet business,’” Nusya answered.

“I can talk myself,” the woman said, and she coughed heavily. She put a piece of cloth to her mouth, and Wanda saw blood on it.

“You don’t need to talk,” Nusya said. “You’ll start coughing again. I’ll get you some water, Raya.”

Wanda whispered to Nusya, “She looks so ill.”

“She is sick. She has tuberculosis. She can’t survive transport.”

Although Nusya whispered, Raya heard her.

“I spit on that. Whether I live or not doesn’t matter. They gave me twenty-five years in prison camp, strict regime. It’s the same as a death penalty.” She coughed again.

Wanda looked at Raya and began to see that others might have more difficult lives than her own.

“What is ‘wet business?’” Wanda asked, “and why twenty-five years?”

Raya started to talk, coughing frequently. No one interrupted.

“‘Wet business,’ as Nuska calls it, is murder. I killed my husband. He beat me like a dog. Three times I was pregnant, but never gave birth. He kicked me in the stomach. My last pregnancy lasted almost seven months. The child was alive inside me, but it was stillborn. I almost died.”

Raya cried. Tears fell down her thin cheeks. She sobbed, coughing more and more. Nusya gave her more water.

“The judge didn’t take into account that he beat you?” Nusya asked.

“I told everything, but the prosecutor said it was premeditated murder.”

“Why didn’t you run away from him?” Wanda asked.

“I ran away several times. He always found me, brought me home, and swore he wouldn’t beat me anymore. I was a fool and believed him. He wasn’t a drunk, just a monster. If something didn’t please him, he beat me. I loved him. He was handsome. He played the accordion. Women were always around him. Around other people, he behaved differently. Nobody could believe he would time to the bed and kick me. What do you think? I’ve always looked like this? I was healthy. I was happy and could smile. When I married him, I was eighteen. For a year, I had a normal marriage, but for seven more, I lived in hell.”

“How old are you?” Wanda asked.

“I’m twenty-seven. But who could tell my age now?”

She was right. She looked at least forty or forty-five.

Everyone was quiet, and Raya continued. It seemed she had waited for that moment to speak out.

“Last time, I stayed in the hospital for three months, but I lived. He didn’t come to visit me once. Before, when he beat me, he visited me every day. I thought he felt guilty before and that this time he’d just left me. I went home, knocked on the door, and a young, fat girl opened it. She asked me, ‘What do you want?’ I told her, ‘This is my apartment. I live here. What are you doing here?’ She looked at me impudently and said, ‘This was yours; now it’s mine. Vanya lives with me now.’ She pushed me so I almost fell down, and she closed the door.

“I had an aunt who lived in Peresip. I went to her and told her everything. She cried and told me, ‘You’re a fool, Raya, just a fool. He’s taunting you. It’s not easy to recognize you after what he’s done. He’ll get no forgiveness. If I were you, I’d kill him and send him to the devil.’

“Her words scared me, and I started praying. Such a thing had never crossed my mind. But bad luck doesn’t come alone; more follows. After a few days, my aunt died. God rest her soul. On her deathbed she told me, ‘Listen, Rayisa, now you’ll be alone in this world. Nobody can protect you. He’ll fool around and find you again and keep on threatening you. Don’t let him put his hands on you. Take an axe and kill him, because if you don’t, he’ll kill you.’

“Those were her last words. I was left alone in her apartment, and I started to look for a job as a maid. I started working a few days later. I came home and saw Vanya sitting on the threshold.

“‘I’ve waited over an hour for you,’ he said. ‘Where is your aunt? Where have you been?’

“He said it as if nothing had happened. I told him, ‘Go your way and leave me alone. My aunt died, and I live here now.’ The scoundrel said, ‘I love you, Rayisa. No other girl can take your place. You’re my first love and my last. I swear I’ll never lay a finger on you again.’ I told him, ‘This is not the first time you’ve sworn that and then beat me again and again. Now I have this apartment. I’ve started working. Finally, I have peace. God be with you, Vanya. Go your way.’

“But he didn’t stop. He said, ‘You, Rayisa, watch your tone of voice. You’re my wife by law. If I say to go home, you go!’ I knew there was nothing I could do. The more I talked, the madder he got. I was afraid he’d start beating me again. I put some things together and went with him. For two days, he was nice. He even cried. He told me how I’d lost weight, and he said, ‘Now life will be different. I’ll never beat you again. You’ll gain weight and be beautiful like before.’

“But on the third day, he came home from work, and I called him for dinner. I saw right away he was in a bad mood. ‘What’s for dinner?’ he asked. ‘Borscht,’6 I said, ‘and pilaf.’

“‘Pilaf again?’ he yelled. ‘You know I hate it.’

“‘Vanya,’ I said, ‘you should be thankful for it. People are starving. You’ve eaten it before, and you didn’t say anything.’

“Then he said, ‘Shut up, scum. You’re grumbling.’ He threw a chair.

I ran to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the back yard, and I hid in the woodshed. I thought I’d go away when it was dark. He was mad. He was screaming. A few times, he stepped out, called my name, then went back in. I waited until dark, left the woodshed, and walked to the gate, but he had watched me from the window. He caught me. He dragged me home like a puppy. I looked at him. His face was twisted like an animal’s, and he was screaming, swearing. He tied me to the bed with a rope and beat me with a belt buckle. He beat me on the back and head. I was weak before he beat me. I don’t remember anything more. I fainted. When I came around I was all wet. He threw water on me when I lost consciousness. I looked around, and in the light from the icon lamp I saw him asleep on the bed. I was tied like a dog to the footboard. I untied the rope and crawled to the kitchen quietly.

“I remember it was a Saturday. I had lit the icon lamp before he came home and prayed, thanking God for helping him to change. Somehow, God didn’t hear me.”

Raya coughed heavily. She stopped to drink and then continued.

“In my head I heard my aunt’s voice: ‘If I were you, I’d kill him and send him to the devil.’ In the kitchen, behind the stove, was an axe. I felt around until I found it in the dark. I held it in my hands and went back to the bedroom. I don’t know how I found the strength, but I walked to the bed. I could see very well, even though the icon lamp was dim. He was lying face down. I didn’t think about anything. It just happened.”

“I raised the axe over my head and brought the blade down on his. He didn’t even scream, but it was as if I was crazy. I hit him over and over. When I quit hitting him, I had no strength left. I dragged myself to the kitchen and turned the light on. I was covered with blood, and so was the axe. I dropped the axe on the floor, sat down against the stove, and I remember nothing else.

“In the morning, my neighbor knocked on the door, but I didn’t hear her. She pushed the door open and came in. She shook me, but I didn’t come to. So she went inside and saw Vanya on the bed with his skull smashed. I heard all this at the trial, and they showed the axe as evidence.

“The neighbor called the militia and an ambulance. When the ambulance came, they used smelling salts and gave me some shorts. I came to. It would have been much better if I’d died then.

“They held me in the infirmary for a long time before I was able to go to trial. I heard so many good things about my husband from the people he worked with. He was a communist, devoted to the Communist Party, and had the true communist approach to his comrades. They said I was a kulak’s daughter, but my parents died before I was sixteen. They never owned land. They worked for somebody. When they died I lived with my aunt until I got married.

“That’s the end of my story. They gave me the maximum sentence, twenty-five years, strict regime. Nobody cared how he beat me, or how I got sick. If he hadn’t been a communist, maybe everything would have been different.”

There was silence in the cell. It was evening, dusk. They could see only a small swatch of gray sky through the tiny, square, barred window.

Rayisa spoke again.

“What did you say, Nusya? I won’t survive transport? You’re wrong. I don’t think I’ll live until I’m transported.”

“What are you talking about?” Nusya protested. “I just meant that transport is very long and difficult.”

Raya lay on her top bunk and said nothing more.

Wanda sat against the wall on her bunk, frozen. In her mind’s eye she saw Raya’s fearful life, pictures flashing one after the other. She no longer thought about herself. Her kind heart was full with someone else’s grief. It allowed no room for her own. Only as she fell asleep did she remember her children, and she drifted off with tears in her eyes.

In the morning, at six o’clock, the prisoners were awakened. Wanda awoke, washed her face, and sat on the bed, combing her hair. Nusya woke up next, and, after her, another woman jumped down from the top bunk across from Raya.

“I never saw such beautiful hair,” the woman said. “It’s so long and curly.”

“Thank you,” Wanda said. “I heard my hair will be cut, but now it doesn’t matter.”

“You, Sonya,” Nusya said, “don’t complain. You have beautiful hair, too. Go wash your face. It’s your turn. We have to wake up Raya. She’s still asleep.”

Nusya pulled on Raya’s pillow.

“Raya,” she called, “wake up. It’s time for breakfast soon. Wash up.”

But Raya continued sleeping.

“You have the whole day in front of you,” Nusya said. “You can sleep all you want. You know the regime. The guard will check you.”

Nusya stepped on Wanda’s bed and touched Raya’s arm.

“Listen,” she said, “how long will it take to wake you up.”

No sooner had Nusya spoken than she began screaming.

“Oh, God! She’s dead! Call the guard. Knock on the door.”

Wanda and Sonya stepped up on the bed and looked at Raya. Wanda would remember how Raya looked for a long time. Her eyes were open. Her mouth was half open. Her hands were folded over her stomach as if she had been prepared to die.

Two guards came, put Raya on a stretcher, and carried her out of the cell.

“She was right,” Nusya said. “She died before transport. She had a feeling. She had tuberculosis, I think, because her husband beat her and because she had to sleep on the floor in the winter. Now they can meet each other and compare notes.”

“Can we change the subject, please?” Wanda asked. “It’s frightening just to think about her. She was only twenty-seven years old. What a destiny.”

A week passed and Wanda remained in the cell. She spoke very little and awaited the frightening transport. She remembered what Nusya had said about it.

Once, when the prisoners were walking in the courtyard, there were prisoners from five or six cells walking together. Wanda was next to Nusya.

“I’ve watched you all this time,” Nusya said. “I like you. You don’t talk too much, and you’re a good listener. You said you have two children and nobody will take care of them?”

Nusya looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“Give me your address,” she continued, “and the names of your children on this piece of paper. Try now, before we go back to the cell. After a few days, I hope we’ll get some information.”

Wanda asked no questions. Her instincts told her to trust Nusya. She wrote her address and the names, Masha and Gregory, and handed the paper back to Nusya, being careful to conceal her actions. She continued walking.

Nusya was right. A few days later, Wanda received a note: “Vinar, Maria and Gregory, were sent to an orphanage on Stepavoy Street. Your property was inventoried. The apartment is locked.”

“Oh, God,” Wanda thought, crying, “thank you. At least they are in the orphanage and not homeless, on the street.”

“Thank you so much,” she said to Nusya. “I owe you now. This was very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Nusya said. “And listen, do you have anything in your apartment that you’d still like to see in ten years when you come back?”

“This is possible?”

Nusya nodded.

“Only one portrait,” Wanda said. “That’s all that’s left me from my past. I wrapped it in a pillowcase and sheet and put it in storage.”

“All right. I’ll remember that. We’ll see an answer in a few days.”

All Wanda’s thoughts were outside the jail. She saw her children in the orphanage. They were not hungry, they had clothes, and for now they were all right. She had not believed in miracles for a long time, but, several days later, when she received a letter from the children, she began to believe.

Dear Mama,

 

We are healthy. We’re going to school. I see Gregory every day, even though we’re in different groups. We’re not hungry. They feed us all right. The building is warm. We have enough clothes to go outside. Everything in the apartment was taken.

 

Don’t worry. Take care of yourself. We miss you very much, and we hope we’ll see you soon.

 

So kiss you and hug you.

 

Masha and Gregory

 

At the bottom of the letter, in different handwriting, was a note: “We were in time to save a picture and send it to the Boss. Everything’s taken care of.”

“Oh, Nusya,” Wanda cried, “You’re pure gold. Tell me, who’s the Boss?”

“Be quiet,” Nusya warned. “You don’t need to know now. When you come back from the camp, you ask for the Boss. You’ll find out.”

“But whom do I ask?”

“Every thief in Odessa. You know how many there are. You have to destroy the letter before transport. They’ll frisk you. Now tell me, how would you like to pay back the person who got you here?”

“No. I can blame only myself.”

Wanda was very angry with Tanya, but she remembered she had children. She believed God would take care of everything. She would not feel better if something happened to Tanya.

Suddenly it came to her that she had forgotten to mention Marina’s portrait to Nusya. Now it was too late. Everything had been confiscated.

Wanda was surprised at how a young girl like Nusya could have the kind of communications she had. Wanda was very far from understanding the reality of her new world. She had never known these circumstances before.

Wanda’s situation was similar to an apartment - dweller’s. People who live in apartments never think about pipes and sewers. The criminal world has a different system and that system exists in all levels of society. History shows how many times people in high positions ask criminals for help.

When the Soviet authorities came to power after the Revolution, there were more thieves and other criminals than before. In the name of the Revolution, the authorities took houses, private property, jewelry, heirlooms, everything. It was predatory, but organized. In the name of the Revolution, the authorities killed people only because they were aristocrats and of the noble class. The Revolution and its consequences begat terror and gave freedom to the hungry and brutal. Without law, they committed all manner of crimes because the Revolution gave them the license.

But now the Revolution was history. Years had passed. Promises of prosperity to a new generation, a new life, had not come true. The opposite had happened.

In 1933, the nation was in a depression. People starved. They felt anger, bitterness, and disappointment. People were pushed into all kinds of crime. The criminal world spread everywhere and became the greatest problem facing the Soviet authorities.

Who was the Boss that Wanda had heard about? He was the leader of gangs of thieves. Each gang worked in a different area, but the Boss rules all of them. The thieves brought him a tribute, a portion of each gang’s take. If anyone tried to avoid paying tribute, he was taken to the “People’s Court.” The Boss was the judge and, in his suite, he held court with a jury. The jury decided whether to execute the offender or forgive him.

Over time, one Boss replaced another. The new Boss was elected only on the death or illness of his predecessor. The Boss was inviolable. All thieves protected him and threatened each other by saying, “I will tell the Boss.”

No one knew exactly where the Boss lived or where he hid his riches—all the tribute brought him by the thieves.

Wanda’s portrait went to the Boss. Nusya had explained it: “You can ask any thief.” But how would Wanda find out who was a thief? She asked no questions. She was happy just to receive the letter from Masha.

One afternoon, the guard opened the small window in the cell door and asked for Wanda Stanishevsky.

“Yes, that’s me,” Wanda said. “What has happened?”

“Nothing’s happened,” the guard answered. “Come with me.”

Wanda walked to the door, turned to Nusya, and shrugged. She was taken to the shower dressing room. She had been there before. All the women showered together. A female guard came in and said, “Why do you still have long hair? Do you have a boyfriend who’s saved it for you?”

“What are you talking about?” Wanda asked.

“I said it’s time to cut your hair. Am I clear?”

“Yes, clear enough. If it’s time, it’s time.”

“Unbraid your hair.”

“Why? It’s much easier to cut it when it’s braided.”

“Do what I say. You’re a convict. And don’t forget to take all your clothes off.”

Wanda unbraided her hair, and the chestnut waves fell down her back and down to the middle of her calves.

“Your hair is like something from a fairy tale,” the guard said, and she left, closing the door.

Wanda stood, naked, but her hair covered her. She was not the young beauty she had been, but she was still very attractive, even in that situation. She felt cold, but she had to wait. No one came to cut her hair.

The door opened, and Wanda saw a male guard. He walked in and closed the door behind him. Wanda looked at him, frightened.

“Why doesn’t a woman cut my hair?” she asked. “If you have to do it, please wait. I have to put my clothes on.”

She picked up her clothes and tried to cover herself. The guard did not move. He looked steadily at her. Wanda instinctively understood what was going to happen. Her eyes pleaded with him.

The guard smiled, looking at Wanda impudently.

“I’ve come to admire you,” he said, “before they cut your hair.”

“You’re a young man. I’m over forty years old. Please, let me go.”

The guard was in his thirties, thick-set, of medium height, with a round moon-face. His face was splotchy, and he had bright red hair. He looked like a country boy.

“So what if I’m young,” he said. “You look like a mermaid. And don’t lie to me. You’re not forty. I’ve seen forty-year-old women. Don’t persist.”

He came close to Wanda and continued, “Try to be nice to me. I can help you. I’m in charge of the transport. Any girl would be glad to spend time with me. All I have to do is whistle. But I don’t need anybody except you. I spotted you in the courtyard.”

He grabbed Wanda’s clothes and threw them on the floor. Then he tossed her hair behind her and looked her over from head to toe.

“You look like a goddess,” he said. “I’ve never seen a figure like that before in my life. It’s like a picture.”

“I beg you,” Wanda pleaded. “Leave me alone. Please.”

“Don’t try to scream. It’ll be worse for you. If you don’t go along with me, I’ll take you by force.”

Wanda understood the horror of her situation. It was hopeless. The guard grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him. She lost consciousness.

When she awoke, she was lying on a mattress that had been rolled up in the dressing room. The guard lay next to her, stroking her hair.

“If you wish, I’ll save your hair,” he said. “You’ll have to wear a kerchief, so nobody will see it.”

Wanda did not answer. She tried to move away from him.

“Lie quiet,” he commanded. “I like you. It’s a pity I met you here. But I know if we were somewhere else, you wouldn’t even look at me. How many years did you get?”

Wanda closed her eyes and remained silent.

“I asked you a question. I’m trying to be nice.” The guard’s voice rose.

“Ten years,” Wanda said.

“That’s a lot, but I’ll try to help you. You could be free earlier. I’ll tell you how to act in prison camp. The authorities can give you two years for one. You could be free in five years.”

“I’ll tell you the truth,” he said. “I know the rules and the law around here.”

“What do I have to do?” Wanda asked quietly.

“For now, try to be kind to me. Later, I’ll pay you back. You won’t be sorry.”

Wanda lay and said, quietly, “All right.”

He embraced her, pressing his lips to hers. She felt disgusted, but she did what he wanted.

Later, Wanda understood how women become prostitutes, how they could begin to give themselves for money. She did it because he promised her freedom. She felt no moral responsibility.

“You have about a onth before transport,” the guard said, lying on his back. “If you’re obedient, like now, while I’m on duty every other day, you’ll thank me for it. A girl like you, a prisoner, nobody sees as human. But I’m different. I like you a lot, and I won’t hurt you.”

Wanda was quiet, thinking about nothing. After a while, she asked, “May I put my clothes on?”

“What’s your rush? You have time. I have a watch. We have thirty minutes. Why not use it?”

He turned to her, embraced her. She looked at the bare bulb on the ceiling, then closed her eyes and whispered, “Oh God, have mercy on me.”

A half hour later, she put her clothes on, braided her hair, and went to her cell. She said nothing. The female guard opened the cell door for her.

When she entered the cell, the three women asked her where she had been.

“They took me to cut my hair but changed their minds,” Wanda answered, looking at the floor.

“Why did it take you so long?” Nusya asked.

“They asked a lot of questions.” Wanda sat on the edge of her bed.

“That’s strange,” Nusya said. “Nobody is questioned after sentencing. I believe somebody cares for you. And you said you have nobody except the children.”

“That’s true. I don’t have anyone except my children.”

The window in the door opened, and oatmeal was brought for supper. The women stopped talking. Wanda felt humiliated, and she loathed herself. She could not talk about her feelings with anyone. To herself, she tried to say she had done the right thing.

“I did this to get my freedom,” she thought. “I will pay any price for freedom, and this is my price.” She could not stop thinking about it.

Five days later, Wanda was called again. When she heard her name, her heart was gripped with fear. The day before, she had tried not to think about it, but today, she had feared this moment since she had arisen. She was afraid; she knew she would again be taken to the dressing room.

When Wanda stood, Nusya said, “You’ve become very popular. Nobody else is called. Why you?’

Wanda did not answer and walked to the door. She was taken the same way as before. This time, the female guard opened the dressing room, pushed her inside, and closed the door.

“Hello, Wanda, have you missed me?”

Wanda did not answer. Ivan Stepanovich, the guard, took her by the hand and pulled her down on the mattress beside him.

“Don’t be shy,” he said. “You’re still a proper woman. You’ve made love only to me, no one else. You didn’t look for me; I found you.”

He embraced her shoulders, pulling her to him. Wanda pushed him away.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m not used to it like this. Let me pull myself together.”

“Don’t be stubborn. I told you before. Try to be nice. I don’t want to be rude. If you try to push me away, I can take you by force. Don’t wake up the beast in me. At this moment, I could do anything. Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you something to eat.”

He opened a paper wrapper. It contained a sandwich, two pieces of white bread with butter and cheese.

“You see,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about you. And you try to resist me.”

Wanda was hungry. After she finished the sandwich, events happened as they had before.

When Wanda returned to her cell, the guard immediately called the prisoners for exercise in the courtyard. Wanda walked next to Nusya and pulled on Nusya’s sleeve. Nusya turned to her.

“I have to talk,” Wanda whispered.

As they were walking in the courtyard, Wanda explained everything to Nusya. Nusya listened, throwing in an expletive occasionally. When Wanda finished, Nusya was quiet for about a minute.

“He’s hooked you like a fish,” she said at last. “Remember, nobody changes the verdict because the law calls for an exact term. He’s a son of a bitch. He lied to you. Now we have to find a way to get rid of him.”

Back in their cell, Nusya thought about a plan to get rid of the guard. A few hours later, the female guard escorted the women to the shower. Before they entered the showers, the women were given scissors to clip their fingernails and toenails.

“Listen, Nusya,” Wanda said. “Cut my hair, please. That’s the first thing we have to do.”

“That’s an idea, but I’ll have to stand on the bench.”

Nusya started to cut Wanda’s hair. The scissors were dull, but little by little, she cut it. All the women watched.

“It’s such a pity to cut hair like that,” Sonya said.

“Do you have a picture, just to remember it?” another woman asked. “Maybe you’ve grown your hair all your life. You can cry, now that you have to cut it.”

“If you lose your head, you needn’t cry for your hair,” Wanda said. “That’s a proverb, I believe. I think it will be much easier and lighter for me.”

Ropes of braided hair fell to the floor. A woman picked one up and gave it to Wanda.

“I don’t need it,” Wanda told her. “Please, Nusya, just cut it straight across. Then we can go take a shower.”

“Wanda, I think you must have been extremely beautiful when you were younger,” Nusya said.

Wanda smiled. They walked into the showers. The water was running; voices echoed. Wanda stood under the shower, and no one heard her crying.

Why was she crying? Perhaps subconsciously she knew that, like the hair she had lost and could not put back, her past was gone and would never return.

The next day, at the same hour, Wanda was called again. She walked to the door, turned, and looked at Nusya.

“Do what I said,” Nusya commanded. “Don’t be afraid.”

The guard walked with Wanda and asked, “You cut your hair?”

“Yes. Yesterday.”

“I don’t know if Ivan Stepanovich will like that.”

“Who is Ivan Stepanovich?”

“He’s the chief of the guards, our boss, the same one who likes to see you when he’s on duty.”

“He’s the warden?”

“No. He’s what I told you. He’s the chief of the guards.”

“It’s none of his business why I cut my hair. And I don’t want to go to him. Take me to the warden. Do I have that right?”

“You’ve got no rights at all.” The guard shushed Wanda. “Keep your voice down.”

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” Wanda continued. “I don’t want to keep my voice down. Take me to the warden. I have something important to say.”

Wanda and the guard walked as they talked. The plan Nusya worked out called for Wanda and the guard to stop a few doors beyond Wanda’s cell. She was supposed to start screaming and ask to be taken to the warden. When she saw the warden, she would tell him how she had been raped. But everything Wanda said was said in a voice only slightly louder than normal. She forgot to stop and continued walking. The guard stopped at the dressing room. She opened the door and pushed Wanda inside. This time, the guard entered as well.

“What do you want, Vasilevna?” the chief of the guards asked.

“Ivan Stepanovich, she didn’t want to come in. She asked me to take her to the warden.”

“Go, Vasilevna. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

He looked at Wanda, and then he said, “You cut your hair. Who did that, the infirmary?”

“No. I decide about my hair. It belongs to me.”

“Why are you talking to me like that? I asked you to be nice. I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t rebel. You know what? In short hair, you’re even more beautiful. Look at all these curls.”

Wanda said nothing and looked at the floor. Nusya’s plan had not worked. Screaming now would be hopeless. No one would hear.

The chief of the guards pulled Wanda down beside him on the mattress.

“I brought you another sandwich,” he said. “Eat. It will give you strength.”

Wanda obeyed like a docile child. She took the sandwich. This time it contained sausage. She started to eat. The guard looked at her, smiled, and stroked her back.

“You’re beautiful, very beautiful.”

Wanda chewed her sandwich and did not answer. When she finished eating, he once again satisfied his brutal passion.

Wanda returned to her cell completely broken. Her arms and legs trembled.

“Where’ve you been?” Nusya asked. “What happened?”

“The same place. I’m no hero. I’m good for nothing.”

“All right. I’ll take this into my own hands. You’ll see. Things will change. You won’t have to go to that red-haired beast. If I’m wrong, my name isn’t Nusya.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see. I know the rules around here better than you do.”

The next day, when the women were walking to the courtyard, Nusya suddenly began screaming at the top of her voice.

“Help! They’re killing me! Help!”

Everyone stopped. The guard in front and the guard in the rear passed through the crowd of women to see what was wrong.

Nusya lay down on the floor and continued screaming.

“What happened?” asked one of the guards. “What are you yelling about?”

Nusya sat up, pressed her hands to her chest, and screamed, “Take me to the warden. I’ll tell him what happened.”

“All right. I’ll report it.”

The second guard came and asked the first what had happened.

“Go tell Nikonorov that there’s something wrong with this prisoner.”

Nusya lay down again and continued to scream for help.

The women walked on to the courtyard. A guard took Nusya to the warden. He knocked on the door, asked to enter with the prisoner, and walked in.

“Please,” Nusya said to the warden, “tell him to leave. I can’t talk if he’s here.”

“Wait outside,” Nikonorov said to the guard. “And you, come forward and tell me what happened.”

Nusya waited until the guard closed the door and then started to speak quietly.

“I have to tell you a secret,” she said. “Your guards are not doing what they’re supposed to do. I heard you are strict but fair, and I decided to tell you.”

Nusya lied. She had heard nothing of the kind.

“That’s true,” the warden said. “I’m strict and I’m fair. What do you know about the guards.”

“We have a woman in our cell—Wanda Stanishevsky. She’s about forty, but she looks a lot younger. She’s beautiful and has a figure like a goddess. Her hair was so long it almost touched the floor. I helped her cut it. Your chief of guards, Ivan Stepanovich, rapes her every time he’s on duty. He calls her to the shower dressing room about two o’clock in the afternoon and rapes her. She cries because she’s so delicate. She can’t stand up for herself. She told me this, and I decided to tell you about it.”

“Are you telling the truth? Or is this your fantasy? You women here have vivid imaginations.”

Nusya placed her hand over her heart and said, “I could swear, but I know I can’t be trusted here. Tomorrow, when he calls her, you can see for yourself. You’ll see I’m not lying.”

“You’re no dummy. You know what to say. All right. I’ll check on it. But don’t tell anyone else what you’ve told me.”

“Thank you. I’m counting on you. She’s a poor woman. A widow. She left two children, and she has nobody, no relatives, no friends. That slime just took advantage. …”

“All right,” the warden interrupted. “All right. I told you I’ll check it out and I will. Go to your cell.”

Nusya left the office, and the guard told her, “You can’t stay in your cell by yourself. Go join the others in the courtyard.”

“Fine. It doesn’t matter to me. I walk, or I sleep. The time will pass.”

“Tell me, did the warden help you? You won’t be screaming anymore?” the guard asked as he walked with Nusya toward the courtyard.

“It’s none of your business. He’s the boss. I’ll complain to him, not you.”

“I asked you politely. Why did you bark at me?”

“Sure, he helped me,” Nusya answered. “He promised, anyway.”

Nusya spent twenty minutes in the courtyard, walking with Wanda, telling her everything she had said to the warden.

“Now,” Nusya said, “it’s important not to show anything. When they call you tomorrow, go.”

“Thank you, Nusya. You saved me. How can I repay you?”

“Oh, maybe some time you can do me a favor.”

“Tell me, can we trust the warden?”

“He looks like a reliable man. I believe we can.”

Nusya was right. The warden was a reliable man, in more than looks. He was about fifty, taller than average, with a dark complexion and dark hair. He had worked in his position for about two years. Before, he was an investigator and prosecuting attorney. He was strict and principled. Those who knew him respected him. Even though Nusya had lied when she told him about his reputation, she was not mistaken.

The day came when Ivan Stepanovich was once more on duty. Wanda was anxious from early morning on.

“Don’t be afraid,” Nusya said to her. “Everything will be just fine.”

“I’m not afraid,” Wanda said quietly. There’s nothing worse than what I’ve already gone through.”

At about one forty-five, Wanda heard her name called. She walked to the cell door and turned to Nusya. Nusya nodded.

Wanda walked down the corridor to the shower dressing room. The female guard opened the door and let Wanda through. Ivan Stepanovich sat on a bench, waiting. He motioned for her to sit next to him. Wanda remained where she was.

“I brought you some fried meat,” Ivan Stepanovich said. “I believe you haven’t had meat for a long time.”

The chief of the guards smiled, and Wanda’s mouth watered.

“I don’t want your meat, and I don’t want you to call for me,” she said. “I grieve in my heart and my soul for my children, and you call me only for your amusement.”

“Who taught you to talk to me like that?” said Ivan Stepanovich, raising his voice.

“Nobody. I can speak for myself. And I have feelings too.”

“All right. You asked for it. I can be nice, or I can be as rough as I am with other women. I have a different feeling for you. You’re more intellectual, somehow. But now I see you don’t understand good treatment. Come here and sit next to me. Now.”

Wanda did not move. She was trembling and had difficulty breathing. He stood, walked to her, and grasped her shoulders.

“Go and lie down on the mattress,” he commanded. “Don’t forget to take your clothes off, if you want to keep them in one piece.”

“No more,” Wanda said, and she continued to stand.

“You’re so stupid. You could have everything, but you choose to have nothing.”

He pushed her down on the mattress. She fell and tried to get up again. He easily put her on her back. He grasped the front of her gray dress and pulled. The buttons flew. Wanda could not defend herself. His knees held her legs down. In another moment, her underclothing was torn away.

“When you resist, you’re even more beautiful,” Ivan Stepanovich said. “That’s a good girl. I would give anything for you.”

He was in ecstasy, tearing at her clothes, repeating obscenities over and over. He did not see that behind him the door was open and the warden had come in.

“What is this?” the warden cried. “What are you doing during your duty hours with the prisoners?”

When the chief of the guards heard Nikonorov’s voice, it was too late for him to do anything. The picture was clear. Wanda was nearly naked on the mattress. Her clothes were in shreds. Ivan Stepanovich knelt over her with his pants down.

“Put your pants on immediately,” the warden said firmly. “I want to see you in my office in five minutes.”

To the female guard standing next to him, he said, “Bring her new clothes.”

Wanda was crying from fear and from happiness that her torture was at an end. The warden sat on the bench, shaking his head. He looked at Wanda. She sat on the mattress, trying to cover herself with scraps of clothing.

“Don’t cry,” the warden said. “This will never happen again. I’m sorry about what you’ve gone through.”

The guard brought new clothes. Wanda went into the shower room and put them on. The guard escorted her back to her cell.

“Did everything happen like we planned?” Nusya asked.

“Yes. Everything, almost. I’m glad the warden came in time. You, Nusya, you’re a fine girl. God bless you.”

Wanda lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. She saw before her the twisted face of the chief of the guards. Suddenly, she recalled how the warden had opened the door and taken in the scene. She began to laugh. She laughed as she never had before, loudly. The women jumped from their beds and looked at her. They thought something had happened. Wanda sat on the edge of her bed, crying and laughing.

“What are you laughing about?” Nusya asked. “I don’t remember you acting like this before.”

“I believe this is hysteria,” Sonya said. “I’ve heard of people laughing and crying at the same time.”

Wanda stopped laughing and sighed. “No,” she said, “this is not hysteria. I just pictured how the warden opened the door and saw the chief of the guards on his knees with his pants down. I wasn’t laughing then. I was frightened. But just now, I couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t help myself.”

“That scoundrel got what he deserved,” Sonya said. “I don’t think this is the first time he’s found a victim and done what he wanted.”

“Don’t worry,” Nusya said. “The worst that can happen to him is that he’ll get fired. We’re nobody, just numbers.”

“That’s fine,” Sonya said. “If he’s fired, he won’t abuse any more women. He’s swine.”

Three weeks passed. No one called Wanda anymore. Life in jail resumed its normal pace.

Once, after supper, the cell door window opened and someone said, “Prisoners Markova, Stanishevsky, and Zuitka. Tomorrow, early in the morning, be ready for transport. Put your clothes and things together. Be ready.”

The women looked at each other.

“The time has come,” Nusya said. “Bear up, girls. We have to survive.”

“I’d almost forgotten about transport,” Wanda said.

“But they didn’t forget,” said Nusya. “They care about us. They’ll give only dry bread to eat. After that, you’ll want a drink, but they give only one cup of water a day. You’ll be thirsty.”

Very early the next morning, while it was still dark, a knock came at the cell door.

“Be ready,” a voice cried, echoing down the corridor. A pounding fist rumbled along the hall. The guards were passing from door to door to remind the prisoners to prepare themselves.

“What time is it?” Wanda asked.

“About three o’clock,” Nusya answered. “It’s the usual time for them to line us up and call roll.”

Ten minutes later, the door opened, and the women walked from the cell to the corridor to join the other prisoners. In the prison yard, searchlights surrounded them. The prisoners stood in a long, single line.

“Listen to my commands,” said the transport officer through a megaphone. Everyone turned to face him.

“Step forward when I call your name.” He began the roll call.

After everyone had stepped forward, the gate opened to reveal several large trucks. The prisoners passed through the gate and into the trucks to be taken to the railroad station. Each truck carried twenty prisoners and four guards, two of whom held German shepherds.

Wanda traveled with Nusya, sitting next to her in the truck.

“I’m so scared, Nusya,” Wanda whispered. “It’s night and these guards have snarling dogs.”

“This is nothing,” Nusya said. “These are only women prisoners. If they transport men and women together, there are more guards and more dogs.”

The trucks stopped at a freight loading area. The prisoners walked to boxcars. They were specially made for transporting convicts.

Inside the cars, each prisoner had her own cage. Partitions kept them from communicating with each other. On the floor of each cage was a hay-filled mattress. When everyone was placed in her cage and the prisoners were counted, the train departed. Hanging from the ceiling was a single, dim lightbulb.

Wanda could not see Nusya, but she knew she was in the same car. She lay down on the mattress and covered herself with her coat. The car shook and swayed from one side to the other and she felt sick.

“I wonder how long this will take,” she thought.

Through a small window, she saw the morning light. Soon, the train stopped. The women were escorted, one by one, back and forth from their cages to a toilet in the rear of the car. Standing, holding the bars of her cage door, Wanda saw Nusya pass.

“Nusya,” Wanda asked, “How long will it take to get there?”

“This is a dead end. We’ll be here until tonight. We travel only at night. Prepare yourself forthree or four weeks of this. Transport has just started.”

Wanda lay back down on her mattress. She closed her eyes and listened to the dogs barking, the prisoners calling to each other, trying to talk, the guards swearing.

“If this is God’s will,” Wanda thought, “that my children be raised in an orphanage, without me, maybe He wills that my life be taken. After ten years, when I come back, no one will need me because of my past. I’ll be a shame to them. I know I’m finished. This is my destiny.”

Tears flowed down her cheeks. The grief she felt overwhelmed her, and she cried out. She buried her face in the mattress and wept bitterly. She put her towel under her face and cried into it. The guard heard her, and he stopped.

“Why are you howling?” he asked. “You should have cried before you committed a crime. Now pull yourself together. You’ll need strength to get through.”

Little by little, Wanda calmed down, and she fell asleep. When she awoke, the car was shaking. It was dark outside. The dim light revealed the dirty ceiling.

“Oh, God,” Wanda whispered, “Save my children. Don’t turn away from them. They have no one in the world.”

She asked herself many times what kind of life they had in an orphanage. There was no answer. Before she had left the jail, Wanda had learned that she would be able to receive letters in the prison camp.

 

What happened to the children when Wanda was arrested?

That evening, Wanda’s apartment was searched. Two men in civilian clothes performed the search. When they finished, they explained to Masha that her mother had been arrested. Masha and her brother would have to stay, temporarily, in a children’s shelter.

In the place where homeless children were taken, Masha and Gregory were kept in quarantine for forty-five days. After that, they were sent to an orphanage. Gregory joined a third-grade group; Masha joined the senior group. She had two years of high school left, but, because she missed forty-five days of school while in the shelter, she was kept out of classes and sent to work in the kitchen. She would miss one year. She scrubbed floors and huge copper kettles and washed dishes. She grew withdrawn and solemn. She seldom spoke.

Masha saw her brother only on Sundays. Gregory attended school because his absence from classes was less critical. When he saw Masha, he asked, “When do we go home, and where is Mama?”

“I don’t know,” Masha answered. “We have to wait.” But she knew they would not see Wanda for a long time. She did not want to tell Gregory.

The orphanage was a place where children came from the streets. They were ruffians. They lacked discipline and education. Gregory learned very fast how to smoke, play hookey, and play kickball in the city streets. From a good boy, talented and well-behaved, he changed to become the same as the others.

One day, in the spring of 1934, six boys, aged fourteen to sixteen, ran away from the orphanage. With them, they took two younger boys; one of them was Gregory.

The orphanage director called Masha to his office.

“Where is your brother?” the director asked. “Did he tell you he was going to run away?”

Masha cried. She wiped her eyes with her apron, not answering. The director, a very short, fat man with pince nez glasses, walked around his desk and yanked the apron from her hands.

“Answer me, Vinar,” he demanded, “when I ask you a question.”

“What can I say? I don’t know anything. He has been punished lately. They haven’t let him see me on Sundays. The older boys get him in trouble. They’re never punished, but he is.”

“I’ll find out about this. All right, you can go now.”

“Please, tell me. Has there been a letter from my mama?” Masha asked, crying.

“If we receive a letter for you, we’ll let you know. Go to the kitchen now.”

When Masha reached the door, she turned and said to the director, “Please find my brother.”

“Don’t worry,” the director said. “We’ll find him. Our militia know their job.”

Days, weeks, and months passed, and the militia did not find Gregory. So Masha decided to carry on the search herself. Late one evening, when it was dark, she prepared a knapsack, filling it with clothes and other necessary items, and walked out through the orphanage gate. Children who worked in the kitchen were not checked in the morning or evening because their work prevented them from taking part in normal flag-raising and lowering ceremonies when the roster was read.

Masha was alone. She had no relatives, no close friends. She did not know where she was going, but she decided to start at the train station. She had no money.

She sat on a bench in the station with people waiting for the trains. By midnight, many of the passengers had left, and Masha had room to lie down.

She awoke early in the morning and could not remember where she was. But soon, she understood. Immediately, she had an idea about what she had to do. She walked to the restroom, brushed her hair and brushed her teeth. Then she returned to the station and began carefully observing the people. Finally, she found a family, a husband, wife, and two children. One child was about four, the other an infant. The family looked fairly prosperous. Masha decided to risk speaking to them.

“Excuse me. By chance, do you need a housekeeper? I can clean your apartment, do the laundry, and cook. I’m not afraid of work.”

“Where are your parents?” asked the woman who held the baby in her arms.

They died. I’m an orphan. Please, I beg you. You won’t be sorry you’ve given me a job.”

“Peter, what do you think?” the woman said to her husband. “We have to start in a new place. How will I manage?”

“It’s all right,” Peter answered, “but we don’t know her. We have no references. How can we trust her with the children?”

Masha looked from one to the other, crying and sniffling.

“All right,” the woman said. “We’ll be leaving in an hour. You can go with us.” To her husband, she said, “Peter, please go buy her a ticket.”

Peter shrugged and left to buy the ticket.

Masha’s future was settled. She traveled to Kharkov with the family of Peter Malukov, a civil engineer. Of course, she had no idea where they were going or how far away it was. She knew only that she had to be far away from the orphanage. She believed that later she could begin looking for Gregory.

When she was asked her full name, Masha responded, “Maria Vladimirovna Stanishevsky.”

In Kharkov, an application was submitted for a new birth certificate for Masha. Homeless children found on the streets were routinely issued new birth certificates based on an age estimate determined by medical examination.

During this time, Wanda was in transport on the freight train. Every day, the situation grew more difficult. The dry bread scratched her throat. One mug of water a day did not help.

After a week, Wanda began to feel weak. Her legs swelled, and she contracted a fever. She could no longer stand at her cage door and beg for water. She lay on the hay-stuffed mattress listlessly.

One morning, a guard handing out dry bread called to her, but she did not answer. He opened her cage and entered. When he looked at her, he noticed right away that something was wrong. He called the chief of the guards.

At the next station, the train stopped, and a doctor was called. The doctor diagnosed typhus. The entire train was quarantined, and Wanda was taken to the hospital. The train could not leave for several days until it was known whether anyone else would fall ill.

All of Wanda’s hair was removed. She lay in the hospital for two months. She almost died, but her fate was to live.

Life had no meaning for her anymore. Only when she remembered, for an instant, her children, did she feel any hope at all.

A guard stood at the door of her room twenty-four hours a day.

After two months, the doctor told the officials that Wanda was ready to go to the prison camp. This time, she was lucky. She did not go by freight transport. She rode in a passenger train, escorted by two guards. After three days, she arrived at the camp. She had lost much weight, her face was very pale, and her hair had only begun to grow out in tiny curls. She was sent to a barracks, and Nusya spotted her immediately.

“Jesus Christ. What happened to you? I thought you were dead. I heard somebody had typhus. They sprayed the train. We couldn’t breathe. I found out it was you who was sick. I’m happy you’re alive. I’m glad to see you.”

“Yes, Nusya,” Wanda said, “I’m alive. And I’m glad to see you, too. The doctor told me that someone else had died on my mattress. That’s why I got sick. They found out, and then they burned the mattress. I almost died, but I’m still alive. I don’t know why.”

“You’ve changed so much. No hair, skin and bones. You know, we’ve already started working in the rubber factory. Time goes faster than it did in jail. There’s more freedom here. You’ll find out pretty soon by yourself.”

The next day, Wanda was given a letter from the orphanage.

“Your two children have run away from the orphanage,” it said. “The militia are searching for them.”

“Don’t worry, Wanda,” Nusya said. “Your daughter is a big girl. She can take care of her brother. An orphanage is the same as jail, but for children. And I’ll tell you something else. An adult helped them escape. It’s for the best. You’ll see.”

Wanda calmed down. Somehow, she trusted Nusya and what she said. She was worried because she knew nothing of her children’s whereabouts. She did not sleep well, leaping up freguently with fright, and she could not look forward to any letters. Masha did not know where her mother was, either.

Wanda worked in the factory from eight in the morning until eight in the evening. In the rubber factory were chemicals. Acid ate away the skin on her hands and burned her eyes. Not long ago, in jail, Wanda was a pretty woman, but after a few months in the factory and her illness, she was difficult to recognize. Her hair grew back, but it was completely gray. Two deep wrinkles creased her forehead.

Her eyes grew red and inflamed. She visited the infirmary for eye drops, but they did not help. She developed an allergy to the chemicals. After six months of work in the factory, she was sent to the shipping department because, when she awoke in the morning, her entire face was swollen; she could not see. The move saved her.

In the warehouse, she packed galoshes in boxes. Little by little, her eyes returned to normal.

Once, Wanda met Nusya in the cafeteria. It was the first time in six months that Nusya had a good look at her friend.

“Wanda, you’ve changed so,” Nusya said. “Listen, you have to pull yourself together. You’ve been here less than a year, and you’ve become an old woman. It’s not easy to recognize you. You have all those years in front of you yet. You’ll die like a dog, and they’ll bury you like one. If you don’t fight for your life, nobody else will. You’re on your own in this jungle.”

“Did you hear what happened in Barracks Six?” Nusya continued. “Some woman went crazy, and they shot her.” Nusya was whispering now.

“What are you talking about?” asked a woman next to Wanda. “It’s frightening to listen to you.”

“I said what I heard,” Nusya replied. “If you don’t control yourself, the same will happen to you.”

“I have no more strength,” Wanda said. “If I die, that is my destiny—to die at age forty-four. The life I’ve had is enough for three people. I only have one wish, to see my children once more.”

“Listen, Wanda,” Nusya said. “I have a few years left here. I give you my word. When I’m free, I’ll find your children. You know I have connections. Do you remember the letter you received from Masha? Do you believe me?”

“Yes, I do. Perhaps I’m still alive because I have some kind of hope. You’re right. I have to eat, and take care of health, and survive.”

The young girl from the streets explained to the well-bred woman how to survive in that kind of situation. Wanda now had hope. When Nusya was free in a few years, she would find Wanda’s children. It was important to have a goal, and Wanda had one.

Wanda ate everything she was given and bought some groceries with the money she earned in the factory. In the barracks, she listened to the radio when she was free from work and on Sundays.

Three years passed. During that time, Wanda lost all her teeth and contracted scurvy. She received no letters from her children. But now, she had hope, because Nusya would soon be free.

Nusya was in prison only three years and nine months, instead of five years, because of good behavior. She was still a very young woman. Prison had made her stronger. She spent all her money for food. She never thought about saving for her freedom.

Nusya was called to the prison camp office to sign a paper that said she would be free in two weeks.

“Nusya,” Wanda said, “You’re my only hope. It has been my dream that you would go to find my children.”

“I memorized the address where you lived before,” Nusya answered. “I’ll find the orphanage and see what they know. I’ll send you a letter to tell you about everything. But it’s not easy to recognize you, Wanda. You’re not the same beautiful woman I met almost four years ago.” Nusya shook her head.

“I know,” Wanda said. “I look like an old woman. I have no teeth, gray hair. Believe me, I don’t care.”

“How old are you now?”

“I’m forty-seven, but I know I look sixty.”

“When you’re free, you’ll get some false teeth, dye your hair, gain some weight, and you’ll look completely different,” Nusya said, laughing. “Maybe another Ivan Stepanovich will find you attractive.”

The day came for Nusya to depart. Early in the morning, before wake-up call, Wanda walked to Nusya’s barracks to say good-bye. They hugged each other and cried. Wanda gave Nusya a sheet of paper.

“This is for you,” Wanda said, “from me.”

When Nusya looked at the sheet of paper, she saw her own portrait.

“I drew you as I’ll remember you forever,” Wanda said.

Wanda had drawn the portrait so that Nusya’s entire face, eyes, nose, mouth, were easily recognizable. But instead of short hair, Wanda gave Nusya very long hair, as her own had once been, and a beautiful, lacy dress.

“Oh, Wanda,” Nusya cried. “You drew me so beautiful. Nobody could recognize this as me.”

“If you had had a different childhood, you would look even more beautiful.”

“Thank you very much. You’re so talented. You’re a real artist. Only you wasted your talent on nothing.”

“Do you remember, Nusya, when you saved my portrait? All my sketches and paintings were confiscated along with everything else in my apartment. But that’s past and gone, like so much of what I’ve loved.”

Wake-up call sounded, and the women said good-bye one more time. Wanda hurried to prepare for work. Nusya put the portrait with her luggage. A few hours later, the train carried her from the far Ural to Odessa.

The year was 1937. It was a time of repression, Stalin’s “cleansing.”

The prisons and jails were filled with political prisoners. People lived in fear of tomorrow. Who would be next? Before, people had been sent to prison for their beliefs. Now, people with no political convictions at all, such as scientists, writers, professors, and engineers were imprisoned. Some were sent to jail because of a neighbor’s report. Not even office clerks were immune. It seemed there would be no end to it. Fear froze all the people, fear for themselves, for relatives, for friends.

The authorities paid little attention to small squabbles. They had no time. They looked for enemies of the people, and everywhere they looked, they found them.

Nusya arrived in Odessa and very quickly found her connections. Her compatriots told her how things were going in the nation.

“You see, Nusya,” said the chieftain of Nusya’s former gang, “among our brothers, we don’t have enemies of the people. We’re the people’s friends. The closer we stay to the people, the more we find out how much we’re helping them.”

“I had no idea you had become philosophers,” Nusya replied. “I see many things have changed since I’ve been gone. Listen, I’m looking for somebody. I have business to take care of. I promised a woman in the camp.”

“All right. Tell me, who wronged you?”

“Nobody. This is different. She’s a good person. She has two kids here in Odessa. I have to find them.”

Nusya was talking with an ex-circus performer, a magician who decided to change professions, to enter a field where he could better use his talents.

Nusya went to the orphanage and talked to the director. She said she was a relative who wanted to find out what had happened to the children after their mother was arrested.

The director was the same short, fat man with pince nez glasses. He listened and shrugged.

“Unfortunately, the children weren’t found,” he said. “It’s very possible they’re not in Odessa. Otherwise, the militia would have found them a long time ago. They searched for a year, and then they had to stop. I think some adult helped them because without the means for subsistence they could not have hidden so long. That’s all I can tell you about Maria and Gregory Vinar.”

Nusya thanked him and left.

“What sort of deviltry is this?” she thought. “Those nasty vagabonds. Where will I find them now?”

But Nusya showed her old energy and searched all over Odessa. The rest of the thieves’ world also searched. They knew they were looking for a boy, fifteen, and a girl, twenty years old. What the militia couldn’t do in a year, Nusya did in a month. Gregory was found in Peresip. He was living in an old thief’s house. The thief no longer “worked,” but he was teaching his trade to young boys. The boys brought their plunder to him and kept a share for themselves.

Gregory now had a nickname, “Grinya.” No one in his world had a last name.

Nusya sat in the old, neglected house, talking with the thief, and waited for Gregory.

“How long has he worked for you?” she asked.

“Two years. He came to me after he worked the trains where he almost got caught. He’s clever and bright. That’s important in our business.”

The thief stood and got himself some water. Nusya noticed that he was limping. She heard a knock at the door. It opened and three young boys entered. They were well dressed, clean; they did not look like vagabonds.

“How was work today?” asked the old man.

No one answered. They stared at Nusya, not understanding why he asked the question with her present.

“She’s one of us,” the old thief said. “Don’t worry. You, Grinya, put everything on the table and see her out. She came to visit you.”

Nusya looked at the small boy, whose face showed his astonishment. They walked out together.

“I brought you greetings from your mother,” Nusya said. “We spent some time together. You know where. Can you write?”

“Yes, I can. Why?”

“I’d like to send a letter to your mother. You can give me yours, and I’ll send them together.”

“I’m not writing anything.”

“Why not?” asked Nusya indignantly. “She’s still alive only because she hopes to see you and your sister. By the way, where is your sister? When did you last see her?”

“I haven’t seen her since I ran away with the other boys.”

“Did you try to find her? She’s your only sister.”

“After we left, a few other boys ran away also. They told me Masha was gone and that they were searching for her. If she lived in Odessa, I would have seen her. I believe she went somewhere else.”

“It’ll be hard to find her. She could have married and changed her last name. But you write a letter because I promised Wanda.”

“If I send a letter, someone might read it and find me. Now they won’t send me back to the orphanage. They’ll send me to jail.”

“You’re not dumb. You’re smart for your age. Tell me, do you remember your mother?”

“Of course I remember. She was beautiful, with long hair. I remember her soft hands, how she stroked my hair. And I remember her voice.”

As he spoke, Gregory looked at the ground. He was shy around Nusya.

This is good,” Nusya said. “You remember her. Try to remember her like that, because when she comes back, you’ll see her differently.”

“Why?”

“She’s changed over the years. She’s been sick, and everything she’s gone through has aged her. You have to understand what kind of life she’s had. All right, I’ll send a letter myself and try to explain everything.”

Wanda received a letter from Nusya. It was the first letter she had received in years.

Hello Wanda,

 

I’m sending you this letter from beautiful, sunshiny Odessa. Life is much better now. We have enough bread.

 

I go to work pretty soon. A few days ago I met a guy. You know him very well. He’s all right, healthy. But I couldn’t find his sister, not yet. I think she’s found a job out of the city. But I’ll keep on looking for her.

 

How is your work? How is your health?

 

Say hello to the girls in the barracks. Answer me at the address on the envelope.

 

Your friend,

Nusya

 

Wanda read and re-read the letter many times. She understood that the “guy” Nusya mentioned was her son. Now she only worried about Masha. Where was she? Why did she leave town?

 

Wanda sent a letter to Nusya, thanking her for the good news. She was happy for Nusya because she was starting a new life. She asked some questions: “Please tell me. Where does our acquaintance, the boy, live? What school does he attend? Who takes care of him?”

Nusya could not possibly answer all the questions for fear of hurting Wanda.

“I don’t know what she’s thinking,” Nusya said to herself when she read Wanda’s letter. “I can’t explain to her where he lives or what he does. Now it’s important that I find Masha. Then everything will be fine.”

Time passed, and Nusya could not find Masha. She knew, at last, that Masha was not in Odessa. She would have tried to find her brother.

What happened to Masha after she met the young couple in the train station?

She was taken to Kharkov, and the couple was not sorry about their decision. Masha was trustworthy, honest, of good breeding, a hard worker—what else could they ask for in a housekeeper? She took very good care of the children.

After six months, Masha received her new birth certificate. She was officially Maria Vladimirovna Stanishevsky.

The next summer, the whole family—husband, wife, two children, and Masha—went to the shore of the Black Sea. How Masha had waited for that moment!

Whey they arrived in Odessa, she asked several times to go to the city. She explained that she wanted to visit some of her mother’s friends. But she was looking for Gregory.

All Masha found out was that he had not been found and that he was not in the orphanage. She looked in the train station, at the seaport. She asked some boys his age, explaining how Gregory looked. No one had seen him.

Masha’s employer was a young woman named Lucy. She was taller than average and very slim. Her kind, light eyes always looked friendly. She pitied Masha, and for Masha’s kindness she returned the same.

Masha grew very close to the family. She loved them as she would her own. She and Lucy seemed more like sisters, the younger trying to help the older care for the children.

It had been more than three years, and Masha could not imagine leaving the family.

In 1938, as they had before, in the middle of June, the entire family traveled to Odessa. In Odessa lived Lucy’s father and his sister, an old maid and a lady with much education. She had graduated from a women’s university before the Revolution. She lived in her memory, not remembering what happened the week before but able to talk for hours about what had happened thirty years ago. She was tall and big boned, and she used a walking stick for support. Always, she wore a lace collar or ruff that was yellowed with age. Her gray, but still thick, hair was divided down the middle and braided in the back. She lived with her brother, Lucy’s father, who was a widower, Lucy’s mother having died after Lucy was married.

Lucy’s father was a very intelligent man. He was a professor in the university, and had been for ten years. He was tall, with salt and papper hair. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully, always weighing his words. He did not like to write letters. When his sister sent a letter to Lucy, he would add a few words, or he might send a card.

When Lucy’s family arrived in Odessa in June, 1938, Lucy found out that a few days before her father was arrested and sent to jail. His sister could not orient herself. She told Lucy how they had come at night, searching, and took her brother. They told her, “Don’t howl, old spinster, or you’ll go with him.” She repeated herself to Lucy again and again, unable to comprehend. Lucy told her to be quiet because Peter had gone to find out what had happened.

Peter discovered that Lucy’s father, Samuelov Innokenty Alexandrovich, had been accused of espionage, sending information out of the country. He was a teacher of the German and French languages, so he had been accused of sending information to the French and German secret services. His case looked very serious, and there was nothing to be done until the trial was over.

“Listen, Mashenka,” Lucy said. “You’re like family to us. Can you do us a favor? Can you stay with my Aunt Nadezhda Alexandrovna? She cannot be alone. We have to go back to Kharkov. Peter has to go to work, and Sergei has to go to school.”

“All right, Lucy,” Masha replied. “I’ll stay with your aunt.”

Masha was happy with the turn of events. She now had more time to look for Gregory.

At the train station, before they entered the car, Masha hugged Lucy, Peter, and the children. They all cried. Lucy had to go, but in her heart, she could not leave her father’s troubles behind.

Two months later, the trial was over. It lasted only one day. The sentence was read: “Twenty-five years, strict regime, in a prison camp.” It was a terrible shock for Samuelov Innokenti Alexandrovich’s sister, his daughter, and her husband.

Nadezhda Alexandrovna fell ill and spent most of her time in bed. Masha had to call the doctor almost every day.

During the two months before the trial, Nadezhda Alexandrovna had prepared a legal document allowing Masha to share her apartment with her. This formality was very important.

For more than four weeks, Masha cared for Lucy’s aunt. She cleaned, did laundry, cooked, and changed the linens. Sometimes, Masha read the old lady her favorite short stores.

“Mashenka,” the old lady said once, “You’re such a kind, nice child. I’m so thankful for your kindness. When I feel better, I’ll pay you back.”

“What are you saying?” Masha chided. “I don’t need anything. I’m glad to be in Odessa. I was born here and spent my childhood here.”

Once, when Masha returned from the store with an armful of packages, she saw a young woman waiting at her door.

“Who are you looking for?” Masha asked.

“I’m looking for you, girl,” answered Nusya, “if you’re Masha Stanishevsky.”

“Yes, I’m Masha. Come in. What can I do for you?”

“There’s nothing you can do for me. But I think I can do something for you,” Nusya said, smiling.

Masha looked at Nusya in astonishment. They entered the room, and Masha invited Nusya to sit down. She carried the groceries to the kitchen, walked to Nadezhda Alexandrovna’s room, and gave her her medicine.

“Do you need anything?” Masha asked.

“No, Mashenka, thank you. I’ll try to sleep.”

Masha closed the door and returned to Nusya.”

“I’m sorry. I had to give an ill lady her medication,” she explained.

“Sit down, Masha,” Nusya said. “We have to talk. I’ve looked for you for a long time, but Maria Vinar doesn’t live in Odessa. Maria Stanishevsky I did find at this address.”

Masha’s face paled, and she asked quietly, “How do you know my name?”

“I’m Nusya. I spent some time with your mother. She asked me to look for you and your brother.”

“Oh, God. How is she? Is she still alive? How is her health? My poor, dear mama. I miss her so much.” Masha began to cry.

“She’s alive, but it’s not easy to tell about her health. She worries a lot about you children. You can send her a letter. You’re twenty-one, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m twenty-one. But I don’t know what to write to her because I don’t know where my brother is. How can I explain that to her?”

“You don’t need to look for him. I’ve already found him. I can bring him to you any time it’s convenient for you.”

Masha was elated. She asked Nusya one question after another. Nusya interrupted her.

“Don’t ask me anything. When you see your brother, you can ask him.”

Nusya promised to bring Gregory the next day.

 

The search for Wanda’s children brought Nusya moral satisfaction. What made this young girl, raised in the streets among thieves and vagabonds, tie herself to the destiny of people unrelated to her?

She saw and felt in Wanda what had been missing in her own childhood—warmth, softness, and regard for others. She had stayed by Wanda’s side, protecting her through jail and prison camp, letting no one harm the timid, defenseless woman. One look from Wanda was enough to calm Nusya when she was upset or angry. In her entire life, Nusya had cried only once—when she said good-bye to Wanda—and now she was glad to find Gregory and Masha. It was as if she had found someone very dear to her.

As she had promised, Nusya brought Gregory to Masha. When she saw them holding each other, the sight brought her to tears. They had not seen each other for four and a half years. Gregory was now a teenager; Masha was a grown, beautiful woman.

“You, Grinya, stay here,” Nusya said. “Stay as long as you want. I have to go. You two need to do me a favor. Promise that you’ll write a letter to your mother. Here’s her address. You know how to write a letter.”

Nusya left, very satisfied with her own actions.

Soon, Wanda received two letters, one from Nusya and another from Masha.

Nusya wrote:

Dear Wanda,

 

I have done what you asked. I found the sister of the boy you know. You’re one lucky woman. When you finish your sentence and come back home, you’ll have a new life. You won’t cry anymore. I promise you.

 

I work in the factory. Everything is in order now, but I’ll tell you the truth, I miss you a lot.

 

Hold on. Time flies. Half of your sentence is already over.

 

Say hello to the girls in your barracks.

 

Hug you,

Nusya

 

In the other letter, Masha wrote:

 

Our Beloved Mother,

 

Try to imagine how happy we are to find out you are still alive and healthy.

 

Thanks to your friend, everything is fine now. But when you come home, it will be much better. I just want you to know that we are healthy and together. What happened is past now.

 

Write to us about everything you’re doing. Keep your spirit. We are always with you, and we are waiting for you.

 

We kiss you and hug you very tightly.

 

Yours,

M. and G.

Wanda read the letter many times until she knew it by heart. She carried it with her everywhere, as if it were a treasure. It was the first letter she had received from her children in five years.

The boxes full of rubber boots no longer seemed as heavy. She felt heartened, strengthened because she had hope.

She sent a letter to her children. In it, she said that everything was fine. She was in good health and good spirits; she was working and had only one wish, to see them again.

Time passed, and the orphanage’s search for Gregory was given up. He visited Masha almost every day, but he still lived with the old thief. Masha was busy looking after Lucy’s aunt, whose health was deteriorating. She was slipping away. No medicine could help her. Finally, one morning, Masha walked into the old lady’s room and found her dead.

Masha called the doctor and sent a telegram to Lucy. Until Lucy arrived, she worried constantly because she did not know where she would be going, or whether she could stay with her brother.

Nadezhda Alexandrovna was buried in Odessa’s civilian cemetery. The morning was cold, and a light snow was falling. When Lucy and Masha returned from the cemetery, they were chilled to the bone. Masha prepared tea.

“You know, Mashenka,” Lucy said, “I’m thinking that for you it might be better to stay here. You’re like family. My children aren’t so little anymore, and I can manage without you. You’ve grown up, and now you need to think about your life. You have this apartment. You can find a job, and you can be around people. In the summer, every year, we’ll come, and we can stay here with you.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Masha said, wiping her tears, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

They sat and drank tea. Lucy told Masha about her father.

“It’s strange, very strange, but we can’t find him; we can’t communicate with him. It’s such a pity. He’ll never know his sister is dead. I’m so frightened. What kind of future do our children have?”

After Lucy returned to Kharkov, Masha stayed alone in the apartment. She had two separate rooms and a kitchen and bathroom. She still could not believe it belonged to her. She had to find a job because she had to live and pay for the apartment. It was important to her that Gregory move into the apartment. Again, Nusya helped her.

Nusya found a job for Masha in the factory where she worked. She also helped Gregory move to his sister’s apartment. As Nusya and Masha worked together, they grew to be friends. Sometimes, after work, they went to a movie. Masha had no idea who Nusya was or what she was. She had no idea what her brother was doing in his free time.

One evening, Masha was ironing sheets and listening to the radio. It was 1939, and the voice on the radio was describing the outbreak of war in Europe. The government was asking for volunteers to go to Spain to protect that courageous country.

Masha was listening very carefully. Suddenly, someone knocked on her door. Masha jumped.

When she opened the door, she saw Nusya with a young man. He was holding a large, rectangular package.

“Are you ready for guests, Masha?” Nusya asked. “We brought something for you.”

“Oh, Nusya, you startled me. I was listening to the radio. There’s war in Europe. There was a report from the war zone in Spain. I heard awful explosions, and at the same time, you knocked.”

“This is Andre,” Nusya said. “Can you show Masha what we brought?”

Andre began unwrapping the package. Masha watched curiously.

“Oh, my God!” Masha exclaimed. “That’s my mama when she was young. I remember this portrait, but I thought it was lost. Where did you find it, Nusya?”

“You don’t need to know. You have the portrait now before your mama comes home. You can look at her, see how beautiful she was—like a princess. I never saw anyone as beautiful as she was. It’s unbelievable what life can do to people.”

Before they left, Andre and Nusya removed a print from the wall of Masha’s room and replaced it with Wanda’s portrait. Masha walked up to the painting and looked at it closely. Tears fell from her eyes.

“Oh, Mama, Mama,” she whispered. “This is you. You’re so beautiful in that dress. I don’t remember you like that, but I still remember you were beautiful. Maybe all mothers are beautiful to their children. How do you look now? Will I recognize you when you come home?”

There was another knock at the door and, again, Masha jumped. It was Gregory, returning from his “work.”

“Look, Gregory, what Nusya brought today.” Masha pulled Gregory into her room.

“Who’s that?” Gregory asked.

“This is our mama when she was young. You don’t remember this portrait?”

“No, I don’t. This is her? She was rich? Bourgeois?”

“You didn’t know our mother was from high society? Nobody talks about it now, but we need to know the truth.”

“Look at that necklace. Where is it now?”

“You don’t understand anything. The portrait was painted before the Revolution. Times change. After the Revolution, people were starving; they didn’t think about jewels. They thought about food.”

“Yes, I forgot. That was a long time ago. How does she look now? I remember her, but not very clearly.”

“I’ve thought about this. In four more years, she’ll come back home. Nusya told me she was very ill. She had typhus. But when she comes home, life will be different. We’ll all be together.”

Masha worked in the factory and saved her money. She explained to Gregory that the money would be needed when their mother came home.

Gregory worked in the factory and continued “working” in the evenings. Sometimes, he gave Masha more money than she was able to make in an entire month. Masha had asked him before what kind of work he was doing, but he evaded the question. Finally, Masha stopped asking.

For some time, nothing special happened in the lives of Wanda or her children. They lived with the hope of reunion. It was the goal of their lives.

Young men asked Masha for dates, but she refused all of them. She kept her memories and feelings locked up inside her. She had started a diary some time before and wrote in it almost every day. She wrote not only about events but also her thoughts.

Two years passed. It was 1941. Wanda had two years and three months left to serve.

Gregory received his draft notice. In a year he would have to serve in the army. He had to report for a physical examination immediately. For almost a year he had little to do with his former world because the old thief died. Almost all his companions were in jail. No one had mentioned Gregory’s name. He lived with Masha, who took care of him like a mother. He always had clean clothes and hot breakfasts and dinners. He helped Masha clean the apartment. The two of them were very close.

Masha and Gregory had no friends. Gregory stayed away from all the boys in the factory because his life had been so different from theirs. Like Masha, he kept his thoughts and his feelings to himself, sharing them only with her.

One evening, in the spring, Masha prepared dinner, put it on the table, and said to Gregory, “I haven’t seen Nusya for a couple of weeks. I don’t know where she lives. Maybe she’s ill, but I can’t go visit her.”

Gregory sat on the sofa, leafing through a magazine. He put it down and said, “Tell me, do you ever think about why Nusya never told you where she lives or what her last name is?”

“No, it never crossed my mind,” Masha answered from the kitchen.

“Come here. I’ll try to explain something to you. … But maybe after dinner will be better.”

After the meal, Gregory told Masha what he had been going through all those years, who Nusya was, and what she did for a living.”

“Nusya was arrested,” Gregory concluded, “a few weeks ago. She wasn’t alone. There were a few people with her. You don’t need to look for her. She’s in jail.”

Masha was shocked. She cried, covering her face with a handkerchief.

“Don’t cry,” Gregory said to her. “It’s all past now. Try to understand. I couldn’t just leave that world. They would have killed me. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

Masha put all of Gregory’s confession into her diary. She added her thoughts. As he told her more and more, she listened, and she no longer wept.

Wanda was allowed to receive one letter a month. She sent one each month to her children. In her letters, she described how she counted the months and the days until she could go home.

In one letter, Wanda received a photograph of Masha and Gregory. Masha sat in an armchair and Gregory stood behind.

“Oh, God,” Wanda thought. “How they’ve grown. My son is exactly like his father, and Mashenka looks like Vladimir. Only her hair is the color of mine.”

Wanda showed the picture to the women in her barracks.

“When you go home,” said a woman whose bed was next to Wanda’s, “Your daughter will be married and your grandchildren will be waiting for you in the train station.”

“Oh, no,” Wanda answered. “She’s never said a word about a boyfriend. I’ll ask her in my next letter.”

In her letter Wanda wrote: “You’re so beautiful, Mashenka. Tell me, do you have a boyfriend?” Masha answered the question, but Wanda never received Masha’s letter.