The concert ended at nine thirty. Louise suggested that since the night was still young, they all walk back to their living accommodations together. She had a brief nervous moment when Natalya said something in Russian to Mikhail, her tone of voice indicating that she wasn’t sure. Of course, the children, Louise thought. She sighed inwardly in relief when it became clear that Mikhail and Natalya would join them. It had been the whole reason for inviting them to the concert in the first place.
The night was crisp, cold, and clear. “The Liberation Quartet was very good,” Louise said.
“I like string quartets,” Natalya said. “They’re so uncluttered, like good poetry. Following any more than four parts is beyond me anyway.”
“You can follow all four parts?”
Natalya nodded shyly, then looked down, saying nothing.
Arnie and Mikhail were walking well ahead of them.
Natalya nodded toward the two men’s backs. Louise caught her drift immediately. “Maybe it’s because their legs are longer,” she said.
“It’s because when they start talking about the army, they forget we’re here.”
Louise laughed. “We do seem to have a lot in common.”
They walked silently for a bit, then Louise asked, a little hesitantly, “Did you notice how elegant all the French women looked tonight? For a simple concert.”
“I did.”
“When I get around French women, like tonight, I feel, I don’t know, dowdy.”
“Inelegant,” Natalya said.
“Gauche.”
“Not that far.”
“What is it about them?” Louise asked.
“Raised with it. Russian aristocrats were like that,” Natalya said wistfully. Then her eyes flicked, almost imperceptibly, but Louise caught the movement. Natalya abruptly changed her tone of voice, saying a little more loudly, “Of course, that was before the revolution. They were selfish, ignorant, and self-indulgent people.”
“I don’t know, Natalya. I mean, think of all your great writers and musicians. Most of them were aristocrats.”
“Because no one else had the time or money. That’s why these French women look as they do. They can buy quality.” She briefly looked down on her dress. “Everything. Good wool, fine cotton, silk.”
“And they all travel with tailors,” Louise added.
Natalya chuckled, about to make a retort, but she had clearly stopped herself.
“What?” Louise asked. “Come on. Spill it.”
“It’s an old saying. A French woman has a small closet full of expensive clothes. An American woman has a large closet full of cheap clothes. And a Russian woman”—she paused—“a small closet half-full of cheap clothes.”
Louise laughed. It surprised her how much she liked this woman. She’d expected not to like Communists. She didn’t expect one to be like Natalya. “I didn’t think Communists had a sense of humor.”
As soon as it came out, Louise regretted it. A cloud had passed over Natalya’s face.
“Maybe you’re right, but Russians do,” Natalya said.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to …” How to get out of this one, Louise thought. “I mean you’re absolutely right about the clothes. When I was a girl, my mother made all our clothes. Now the clothes just seem to pour out of factories.”
“Yes,” Natalya said. “Your country is still in the capitalist stage.”
Louise felt a bit affronted. “What do you mean by that?”
“No, please don’t misunderstand. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just that the world develops in fits and starts. I just meant, if America had already thrown off its capitalistic yoke, there would be none of the tension between us. I mean our countries.”
“I don’t feel like I’m under some capitalist yoke.”
“That’s because you are from the capitalist class.”
“My father ran a lumberyard!”
Louise stopped walking. This was not going as she’d hoped. Natalya also stopped, her breath now hanging in front of her face in an icy cloud.
“I just want to be friends,” Louise said.
“My Russian emotional temperament,” Natalya said. “Tension between our countries doesn’t mean there has to be tension between us.” She looked up the dark street at Mikhail and Arnie leaning in to hear each other, huddled against the cold. “Our countries could very well be at war in the near future,” Natalya said softly. “Those two could soon be trying to kill each other.”
Louise saw that Mikhail and Arnie had stopped at a street corner under a dim light. Arnie was shading his eyes, trying to see into the darkness better. When he was sure he’d caught their attention, he pointed up a small street.
“I need to confess something,” Louise said as she and Natalya were joining Arnie and Mikhail. “I asked Arnie to take a certain route back to our quarters. I was going to make it look accidental.”
Natalya gave her a puzzled look.
“I need help. That is, I want help. There is an orphanage up that street. Arnie’s cousin runs it.”
Natalya stiffened just slightly. “I’ve seen too many orphanages.” She went quiet. “One too many.”
“You were orphaned? I’m so sorry. In the First World War?”
“No. My parents were …” Natalya stopped. “Died,” she continued.
“Oh, Natalya. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
Natalya’s face had returned to its usual cool mask. After a moment she shrugged and said, “You couldn’t have known.”
“No. Maybe it’s more of a reason for you to see this one.”
“They’re all the same.” She looked at Louise suspiciously, then said, “And why do you care?”
There are always these moments in a new friendship where a decision about how much to reveal must be made. The fear is that revealing too much might end the budding relationship. The reality is that not revealing what truly matters will ensure that the relationship remains superficial.
Louise plunged. “I suppose it’s because we’ve been trying for years to have children and …” She still did not know how deep to go with this. “It just hasn’t worked out.”
Louise broke eye contact. “It’s just, I suppose, being around children is … I don’t know.”
“Comforting?” Natalya asked.
Louise shrugged slightly but didn’t answer.
“Encouraging.”
Louise nodded.
“OK,” Natalya said. “Let’s go.”
The two women walked side by side for a block or so, saying nothing. Louise felt a kinship with this new friend and somehow knew Natalya felt the same.
“The children here do need help,” Louise finally said.
“What could we do?”
She’d said we. Louise homed in. “I don’t know. Yet. All I know is that I’d like to help. I don’t know for sure if Arnie wants me to. I don’t even know if it’s something that’s allowed for the wives of diplomats. But I think you and me together, sort of a joint project, that sounds very diplomatic.”
Natalya chuckled. “Comrades. Arm in arm,” she said sarcastically.
“Hamilton, that’s Arnie’s boss. Well, not his army boss. Anyway, it gets way easier to get permission if you’d be part of it.” She looked to see how this was all being received. “Natalya, we could do so much good for them, those orphans. I just know we could.”
Natalya’s eyes seemed to soften.
“Another confession. I already told Arnie’s cousin we’d stop by tomorrow afternoon. I was so sure you’d want to help once you saw the place tonight.”
“Do you have any more to confess?”
“Well, I’ll confess to even juicer stuff if you’ll come tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure your husband would like it.” The tone had lightened.
“Not that kind of juicier.”
Mikhail and Arnie were heading up the street toward the orphanage. Natalya gave Louise a look, then followed them, leaving Louise to catch up, but hopeful.
The four hesitated before the orphanage’s head-high wrought iron gate. It was unlocked, and Arnie pushed it open. The others followed him inside the grounds. The large stone building stood silent and dark in the quiet playground. Louise saw Natalya move in closer to Mikhail. They stood there silently watching the darkened building. She whispered something to him and he put his arm around her and kissed her hair.
After about half a minute, Natalya turned to Louise. “It brings back memories. Not all good.”
Louise nodded and waited, giving Natalya some time. Then she said, “Maybe we can help these kids have fewer bad memories.”
Natalya’s face was working. “Yes. Fewer bad memories.”
It took Louise aback to see tears forming. She hesitated, then said softly, “Can you say?”
Natalya shook her head, no. Louise waited. “It was … with so many children you’d think … I was kind of alone.”
“Alone? Why would you be alone?”
“My background. Hard to explain. My mother and father were … not desirable.”
“Not desirable,” Louise said flatly.
“Dah.”
Louise saw another crossroads had been reached. She tried to think of saying what she wanted to say without it sounding maudlin or presumptuous. She nodded toward Mikhail and Arnie, both still deep in conversation.
“I told Arnie’s cousin we’d come after work tomorrow,” Louise said. “Please come. Just for half an hour. I’ll meet you here. I have this idea about a joint American-Soviet orphan project. It can make good publicity for our Department of State and any politician who gets behind it. I would think it could be the same on your end.” She stopped there, hoping she’d made the project just enticing enough for Natalya to at least explore the idea.
Natalya said something to Mikhail in Russian and Mikhail answered her quietly and seriously. She turned to Louise. “Dah. OK. Half an hour after work.”