Tatiana and Alexander: A Novel(150)

"And time of day."

"Yes, that, too."

Tatiana didn't say anymore, pretending to be preoccupied with Anthony's book.

Edward arrived dressed in a suit. Vikki commented on how handsome he looked. Tatiana agreed that Edward looked nice. Edward was fairly tall, thin, composed. He carried himself well--in a suit, in doctor's whites. He had serious, kind eyes. She felt comfortable and yet intensely uncomfortable around him.

Edward took her to Sardi's on 44th Street. Tatiana had a shrimp cocktail and a steak followed by some chocolate cake and coffee.

After an initial awkward silence, she spent the entire dinner asking Edward questions and listening to him. She asked him about medicine and surgery and the wounded and the dying and the sick, she asked him about the hospitals he had worked in and why he chose to be a doctor and whether it still meant something to him to be a doctor. She asked him about where in America he had traveled to and which place out of all he had seen he liked best. She looked him straight in the eye and laughed in all the right places.

And somewhere in the space between the taking way of the chocolate cake and the bringing of the check, Tatiana, while nodding, while listening, her head slightly tilted to one side, saw a color image of herself sitting across a table just like this from Edward, except the table was longer and they were much older, and around the table with them sat their grown children, all daughters.

She leaped up and asked the waiter the time. "Ten o'clock? My, look how late it is. I must get back to Anthony. I had really nice evening, thank you."

Looking a little shellshocked, Edward took her home in a taxi.

She sat all the way from 44th looking out the side window. Somewhere around 23rd Street, Edward said, "How do you do that? I can't believe what a bore I must have been, talking only about myself."

"Not at all," she said. "You were fascinating. As you know, I like to hear everything."

"Maybe next time, we can talk about you."

"I'm so boring," she said. "Nothing to talk about."

"Now that you've been here a couple of years, what do you like about America?"

"The people," she said without thinking.

Edward laughed. "But Tania, all the people you know are immigrants!"

She nodded. "True Americans. They are here in New York for all right reasons. New York is great city."

"What else do you like? What do you like the most?" Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Delicious bacon," she said. "I guess I like the comfort. Everything Americans do, produce, create is to make life little bit easier. I like that. Music is pleasant, clothes are comfortable. Blankets don't itch. Milk is right around corner. So is bread. Shoes fit. Chairs are soft. It's good here." She looked out the window as they passed through 14th Street. "So much to take for granted," she added quietly.

The cab pulled up in front of her building. "Well..." she said.

"Tania," he said in an emotional voice, reaching for her.

She leaned over to Edward, pecked him on the cheek, said, "Thank you so much for lovely evening," and got hastily out of the car.

"I'll see you on Monday," he called out, but she was already running inside the doors, opened instantly and reverentially by Diego from Romania.

Tania Tania.

I hear him shouting for me.

I turn and there he is, still alive and calling my name.

Tania Tania.

I turn, I must turn and there he is, wearing his fatigues, rifle slung on his shoulder, running towards me, out of breath.

Still so young.

Why do I hear him so clearly?

Why is his voice an echo in my head?

In my chest.

In my arms and fingers, in my barely beating heart, in the vapor of my cold breath?

Why is he loud, why is he deafening?

At night all is quiet.

But during the day, amid the crowds...

I walk, always slowly, I sit, always motionlessly, and I hear him calling my name.

Tania, Tania...

Why do I hear it?

Didn't he tell me to listen for the stellar wind at night? Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

It will be me, he whispered, calling you back.

To Lazarevo.

Then why is he SHOUTING now?

Here I am, Shura! Stop calling for me. I'm not going anywhere.

Tania Tania...

One cold and sunny Saturday afternoon, a bundled-up Tatiana, Vikki, and Anthony were walking as usual through the outdoor market on Second Avenue. Vikki was idly chatting, Tatiana was idly listening and holding Anthony by the shoulders. He wanted to push his own carriage today--into the ankles of the pedestrians. Vikki carried all their shopping, never missing an opportunity to complain about how unfair it was.

"And explain to me why you refuse to go out with Edward again?"

"I don't refuse," Tatiana said gently. "I told him I need little time, little more adjustment. We still have lunch."

"Lunch shmunch. It's not dinner, is it? He knows a brush-off when he sees one."

"No brush-off. Just...slow-off."

Vikki was already onto something else. "Tania, I know you want bacon for dinner today, bacon and bread, but I was thinking maybe you could make something other than bread and meat. What about spaghetti and meatballs?"