Between Shades of Gray(42)

I nodded. “He loves them.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” I said, handing him my tablet.

“It’s good,” said Andrius. His thumb was pressed against the edge of the tablet. “Can I look at the others?”

“Yes,” I said, thankful there were only a few sketches I hadn’t yet torn from the pad.

Andrius turned the page. I took the compress from Jonas’s head and went to cool it in the snow. When I returned, Andrius was looking at a picture I had drawn of him. It was from the day Mrs. Rimas received the letter.

“It’s a strange angle,” he said, laughing quietly.

I sat down. “You’re taller than me. That’s how I saw it. And we were all packed pretty tight.”

“So, you had a good angle of my nostrils,” he said.

“Well, I was looking up at you. This angle would be different,” I said, observing him.

He turned to me.

“See, you look different from this perspective,” I said.

“Better or worse?” he asked.

Mother and the Siberian woman returned.

“Thank you, Andrius,” said Mother.

He nodded. He leaned over and whispered something to Jonas. He left.

We steeped the leaves in the water I had boiled. Jonas drank it. Mother stayed propped at his side. I lay down but couldn’t sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw the painting of The Scream in my head, but the face was my face.





50


IT TOOK TWO WEEKS for Jonas to improve. His legs trembled when he walked. His voice was barely more than a whisper. In the meantime, Mother and I became weaker. We had to split our two bread rations to feed Jonas. At first, when we asked, people contributed a portion of what they had. But as the cold crept deeper into our shacks, it began to chill generosity. One day, I saw Miss Grybas turn her back and shove her entire bread ration into her mouth the moment it was handed to her. I couldn’t blame her. I had often thought of doing the same thing. Mother and I didn’t ask for contributions after that.

Despite our pleadings, the NKVD refused to give us food for Jonas. Mother even tried speaking to the commander. He laughed at her. He said something that upset her for days. We had nothing left to sell. We had bartered practically everything we owned with the Altaians for warm clothing. The lining of Mother’s coat hung thin, like fluttering cheesecloth.

The approach of Christmas bolstered spirits. We gathered in each other’s shacks to reminisce about the holidays in Lithuania. We talked endlessly about Kucios, our Christmas Eve celebration. It was decided that Kucios would be held in the bald man’s shack. He grudgingly agreed.

We closed our eyes when listening to the descriptions of the twelve delicious dishes representing the twelve apostles. People rocked back and forth, nodding. Mother talked of the delicious poppy seed soup and cranberry pudding. Mrs. Rimas cried at the mention of the wafer and the traditional Christmas blessing, “God grant that we are all together again next year.”

The guards warmed themselves with drink after work. They often forgot to check on us or didn’t want to venture out into the biting, frosty winds. We gathered each night to hear about someone’s holiday celebration. We grew to know each other through our longings and cherished memories. Mother insisted that we invite the grouchy woman to our meetings. She said that just because she had signed didn’t mean she wasn’t homesick. Snow fell and the temperatures plummeted, but work and the cold felt tolerable. We had something to look forward to—a small ritual that brought relief to our gray days and dark nights.

I had begun to steal logs to keep the stove fired. Mother constantly worried, but I assured her I was careful and that the NKVD were too lazy to come out into the cold. One night, I left the bald man’s shack to get a log for the stove. I crept around his shack. I heard movement and froze. Someone was standing in the shadows. Was it Kretzsky? My heart stopped ... Was it the commander?

“It’s just me, Lina.”

I heard Andrius’s voice in the darkness. He struck a match and lit a cigarette, briefly illuminating his face.

“You scared me,” I said. “Why are you standing out here?”

“I listen from out here.”

“Why don’t you come inside? It’s freezing,” I said.

“They wouldn’t want me inside. It’s not fair. Everyone is so hungry.”

“That’s not true. We’d be happy to have you. We’re just talking about Christmas.”

“I know. I’ve heard. My mother begs me to bring her the stories each night.”

“Really? If I hear about cranberry pudding one more time, I’ll go crazy,” I said, smiling. “I just need to get some wood.”

“You mean steal some?” he said.

“Well, yes, I guess,” I said.

He shook his head, chuckling. “You’re really not scared, are you?”

“No,” I said. “I’m cold.” He laughed.

“Do you want to walk with me?” I asked.

“Nah, I better get back,” he said. “Be careful. Good night.”

Three days later Mrs. Arvydas and Andrius arrived with a bottle of vodka. The crowd fell silent when they walked through the door. Mrs. Arvydas wore stockings. Her hair was clean and curled. Andrius looked down. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. I didn’t care that she wore a clean dress and wasn’t hungry. No one wanted to trade places with her.