Tatiana and Alexander: A Novel(161)

Tatiana crawled to him.

Jeb cursed, wiping the blood off his mouth.

Tatiana pushed Anthony inside the bedroom and whispered, "Stay here, and don't come out no matter what, do you hear me?" Quickly she went to the closet, and reached down into the corner on the floor to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

get to the black backpack.

Anthony didn't respond, his lip curling down in a shudder.

"Do you hear me? Not foranything ."

He nodded.

Tatiana closed the door behind her.

Tatiana looked at Jeb as if she had never seen him before. How could she have been so swayed by what Alexander had been? She had thought she could replace just a part of him, that it would be all right if she replaced the one part she so desperately missed of Alexander, the one part she craved and wanted for herself, that she would feel better, that she would be comforted. And now look at what she had done.

Breathing hard, Tatiana pointed her German P-38 pistol at an amused and panting Jeb, and said, "Get out of my apartment."

He glared at the gun with surprise and then laughed. "Where on earth did you getthat little playtoy?"

"My husband and father of my child gave it to me to protect me from cannibals," she said. "My husband was major in Red Army and he knew how to use this, and he taught me. Now get out."

She was holding the gun with both hands and her feet were apart.

"Is that even loaded?" he asked with contempt.

Tatiana paused, cocked the hammer, moved the muzzle slightly to the left of Jeb's face, took a deep breath, and fired. Jeb staggered backward and fell to the floor. The bullet blew a hole in the plaster and got lodged in the outside brick of the building. It had made a very loud noise, but Anthony did not come out of the bedroom. There was some half-hearted banging from downstairs, warning her to keep it down.

Tatiana came up to Jeb and hit him hard on the face with the barrel of the gun. "Yes. It's loaded," she said. "Now get the hell out."

"Are you f*cking crazy?" he yelled, his hands up in front of him.

She stepped away and pointed the weapon at him. "Out."

"You'll be sorry for this! Very sorry. I want you to know I amnot coming back," Jeb said to Tatiana, scrambling to his feet.

"I'm hoping somehow I'll manage. Get out."

After he had gone, Tatiana bolted and chained the door. She washed her face and hands, and then went in to see her son, who was huddled in the corner of the room. Bringing him back to bed, Tatiana covered him up, sat with him a moment but couldn't speak. She patted his blanket and left the room.

She went out onto the fire escape and sat in the cold night. Six flights below was the whine of an ambulance rushing down Church Street. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

That's it for me, Tatiana thought. That's it. I feel it. I can't continue.

I am going to lie down on his sled and close my eyes and he will pull me along the snow to my Fifth Soviet building, except when we get there, I will not feel his hand on my cheek.

She looked at the gun in her lap, with seven bullets still in the clip, and she thought, it would take just one split second. Not even that. It would take one one-thousandth of a second, and it would all be over. So easy.

She closed her eyes. What comfort. Not to have to wake up again. Not to have to wake up and think of him on the ice.

What comfort not to suffocate.

Not to love.

Not to hurt, to want, to grieve. As if grief is not only my prerogative but my comeuppance. I caress the grief as I once caressed him; as long as it's here, he is here; as long as I'm pretending to live, I can be near him. I've paused over it, one, two, three years nearly, going on the fourth cartwheel of despair, I'm bereaved, let me alone, and let me gaze at my grief with passion and ardor.

We thought I was strong. We thought I could live through it all.

But we were wrong.

I just can't seem to live through you.

Though I want to. I want to so much.

What a relief it would be not to have to live for both of us. What joy. She stared at the gun in her raised hands.

In her darkest hour, Tatiana heard her son's voice say, "Mama?"

He was standing in his cotton pajamas near the open window, his lower lip quivering, watching her hold the pistol.

"Anthony," she said. "Go back to your room."

"No. I want you to put me to bed."

"Go back to your bed. I'll be right there."

"No. Come with me now." He was crying.

She put the gun down on the metal floor of the fire escape and climbed inside.

"Vikki will be here soon," she whispered, laying him back down and covering him up.

"No," said Anthony. "I don't want Vikki. I want you. Lie down next to me." Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Anthony--"

"Mama, lie down next to me."

In her clothes, Tatiana lay on Anthony's bed, and put her arm around him. "Stay here," he said. "Fall asleep with me, Mama."

They lay quietly. Minutes passed. "Son, everything is going to be all right from now on," she said. "I promise you. One of your father's promises. Not your mother's. Everything is going to be all right."