5

Moscow, Russia

Had Nicolai only been gone for three days?

His face was already starting to fade in Tanya’s mind, washed away by the dark images that had filled her last hours. First the funeral, then the reception, then having to endure the pity of a thousand shaky smiles.

And now Nicolai's great Aunt Katya insisted that Tanya couldn't be left alone, that she must have constant supervision lest she…what? Melt into a puddle of tears on the floor? She'd already done that several times. And even with people around to pull her off the floor, desperation and loneliness filled her.

Tanya looked around her apartment, squinting in the early morning light, willing her eyes to stay away from the neatly made bed, the place where Nicolai had breathed his last breath. No, she would never be able to sleep there again. She’d spent the last three nights in a hard, wooden chair, crying more than sleeping, moaning more than thinking.

"Tanya, why don't you come over here and I'll make you some tea." Aunt Katya's soft voice startled her.

"No, thank you." Tanya sounded distant, even to herself.

"All right, well, I need to talk to you. I need to run to my house to grab a few of my belongings, since it seems I will be staying a bit longer than expected. I would like for you to come with me."

Tanya stared at her, unblinking.

"Tanya? Are you all right?"

"I think…I will stay here."

"All right." Aunt Katya seemed lost for a moment. "I suppose I'll go quickly and be back in about an hour. Nicolai's Uncle Boris will be returning with me. We would like to talk to you about your plans." She waved around the tiny apartment Tanya had shared with Nicolai.

Uncle Boris? Why would Uncle Boris care what she did next? It wasn't really his business, was it?

"Tanya?" Katya grabbed her by the shoulders and looked sternly into her eyes. "Tanya, we have to make some decisions. Your rent is due soon and you can't stay here without Nicolai."

The words echoed through Tanya's head, reminding her of all she had lost.

"Are you all right, dear?" Katya's voice was soft, but hurried.

"I…yes. I understand." Tanya sank into a chair and tipped her head to her chest. Of course she wasn't all right. She would never be again.

"That’s good, dear. You just sit right there and take a little rest, and I'll be back soon." Katya was kind and gentle, but seemed relieved to have a break.

Who wouldn't want to leave this place of desperation, of hopelessness?

Katya quietly shut the door and panic rose in Tanya’s throat. She would have to move away from her apartment and live with someone else. But who? Her parents were gone and Aunt Katya and Uncle Boris must be a thousand years old. Her friends were all either moving away or moving in with family because of the war.

Tanya stared at the door and closed her eyes. She had to think. Pressing her fingertips into her temples, she did her best to focus. She couldn't wait here for Aunt Katya to make decisions for her. Living with Uncle Boris and Aunt Katya simply wasn't an option.

What about…Tanya concentrated on the possibilities. There was Alek. He would take her in. But he lived in a one-room studio with his wife and newborn son. And her cousin Ida would maybe allow it for a short stint, but her husband was off at the war and she had six kids to feed. No. No. No. Tanya swallowed the panic that welled up in her throat.

Was there anyone left for her?

"What if?" An idea planted itself in her mind and wouldn't let go. Did she dare? She certainly couldn't live on her own in Moscow. Aunt Katya wouldn't allow it, but what if?

In a flurry of desperate tears, she grabbed Nicolai's old leather satchel and started filling it with the few things that mattered to her—the quilt she had carefully stitched together in the months before their wedding as a gift for Nicolai and the photograph they’d splurged to have taken on their honeymoon just eleven months ago. Stuffing her treasures into the satchel, she laced on her only pair of decent boots and dumped every ruble they owned into the pocket of her threadbare wool coat.

She knelt next to the bed where Nicolai had died and grabbed his well-worn Bible. She clutched it to her chest. She didn't believe in God anymore, but Nicolai had loved this book. "Goodbye, my love. I will treasure these months for always," she whispered.

Her heart squeezed. She had to do this. She had to go before Katya got back. Before rational thought could change her mind, she kissed her palm and blew her last hope of love into the air, grabbed Nicolai's treasured violin from its spot next to the hearth, and headed out the door into the still-chilly morning air.

~*~

Tanya navigated the misty streets toward Komsomolskaya Square. If anyone saw her walking down the street making loud hiccupping sobs and doing nothing to wipe the tears streaming down her face, they'd probably put her into the insane asylum.

Hanging her head low, she kept walking, driven by a pain she would never truly escape. She clung white-knuckled to her satchel and hardly noticed the sun as it peeked over the tops of the buildings, signifying a new day.

Her first day on her own.

Tanya spotted the yellow spires of the Leningradsky Station and reminded herself to hold her emotions in check. She made a beeline for the front doors, not glimpsing backward at the sights and sounds of the city where she grew up. The city she had loved deeply and now, lost fully. She was done with Moscow. There was nobody and nothing left for her here.

Studying the board above the ticket counter, she read the list of cities, rolling them around on her tongue. Which one would hold opportunity and hope for a lonely young widow? Leningrad. Pscov. Murmansk. She had never been to any of them, had never even considered leaving home. Until home left her.

She willed herself to make a choice before she changed her mind and went back to her apartment. Taking a deep breath, she asked the ticket clerk which train left the soonest and paid her fare.

Leningrad, it was.