Sandra Newman - The Country of Ice Cream Star

Then he sit upon this sofa, put his face into his hands and break in sobbing tears.

ISTAND A LONGER MINUTE, HEEDING STRANGE IN INSIDE DARKNESS. Room be a clutter of every shadow. Is paintings to the walls, but cannot see their pictures right. Various chairs stand round, like people in five different moods. And in two grandy windows show the farther fire of District, a maudy glow that thicken the horizon.

Pasha weep alone, bent on his sofa. Wipe his face with jacket arm, but never look to me. Ya, in my flesh, still be the fright unbalance of his dragging me. I comprehend that I should say some word, child crying so. But I gone stiff with some unknowing feeling.

And slow, his weeping ease, his breath go lighter. Soon he only staring to the floor in hunchen shadow.

Then he say, resenting soft, “You cold?”

“Sure I be cold.” I fret my shoulders. “But why you crying? What this be?”

“You come here. Should be in Marias. Said to Razin that you going.”

“Gone if — nay, how you telling shoulds?”

His face tense like he going to shout. But he only straighten, pull his rooish jacket off. Reach it to me.

I step toward and take the jacket. Clad it on, with queery sorrow how it stank of Pasha. Smell like our hunting days together, before I guess that roos can wash. And it be warm from him, its sleeven cuff wet from his tears.

Then I come cautieuse, sit to the sofa. Look to Pasha where he hunchen big, face low in shadow. I say, “Polkovnik told all stank on you. Know this.”

“I know. He joke on this tonight.”

I take a needy breath. “So it been lies.”

Be a moment’s silence, while he fish a cigarette from his shirt pocket. Match brighten up, and by its flame, can see his painful face. Got dirt along one cheek, with tearen paths run through it white. He skit the match out hard. “Told you all this before. Ain’t lies.”

I flinch annoying. “Nay, ain’t told me. Told me fictions, how you flee the Russians. All your sorry feelings, how you kill yourself. Your daughter.” My voice catch sour. “Ain’t matter nothing, but you lying right.”

“Yes, ain’t matter. This been also truth, but it ain’t matter. Told you I be mally, but you ain’t believe.” He look resenting to me. “But you believing Razin, why?”

“Shee, I believe the war tonight! Be some thousand children dead around us for your treachery. Should let them kill you in Marias.”

“Yes, you should. I told you this.”

“Nay, damn! Why you told me to war? You known we cannot win. But you be faithful to these maggots, why?”

Then he look to me full. His face be dim in shadows, but can see his eyes particular, suffering their anger. “Nay. Ain’t faithful to them, fool. I done this for yourself.”

“Myself?” I scoff my breath. “Ain’t for myself. I wanting this?”

“I try to get you cure. What you need.”

“And where it is? All children slaven. Dead. It be no cure.”

“Ain’t better way.” He grit his mouth like pain. “All choices mally.”

“How this be better choice than anything? Other choice, they kill us slower?”

“If you trading prisoners, how we said—”

“It been no thousand prisoners here! We losing, ain’t remember? Even if Marines agree to trade, been nothing. Dozen cures.”

“ You can cure,” say Pasha savage thin. “Yourself. All I try.”

“Myself? This war been for my precieuse self? No sho, it been!”

A moment he stare furiose to me, ain’t seem to even breathe. Then he say harsh, “When it been Driver, you fight for one cure.”

“Without no hope to win, I ain’t. Kill any thousand children? Nay.”

But as I say this, doubt misgive. I even get a nonsense thought that Driver still can save, if I agree. Yo, Pasha shaking his head with bitter mouth.

He say, “And if you ain’t war here, roos take Marias neverless. They wait some months, be most. Ain’t waiting long. It been no help.”

I catch on this precaire. “But… you can tell me. Why you never said, we got no chance?”

“Ice, think.” His bluish eyes gone stark. “I say, and you ain’t war. You running here alone. To roos.”

“And so? I be one child. You seen outside? It be a world of dead!”

“And now you here! All been for nothing!”

“Shee, ain’t even truth! Ain’t for myself! You left to roos, first chance. You theirs. Or why you left to them? Nor I want fables on no daughter.”

Pasha flinch from this, look narrowing at a chair across. Suck his cigarette, breathe out a ghosty reach of smoke. Ya, in this smoky breath, all meaning blanken from his eyes.

“Pasha, shee!” I say. “And now you giving me your moron face? Ain’t guess I even leaving here, can learn some sense before I die.”

He tense indignant. “You ain’t dying. And you the moron.”

This catch me funny in my nerves. I laugh while Pasha muttern, “Why you come here? Moron, laughing. How I going to help you now?”

“Nay, what you caring any, vampire?” I say through my laughter. “Should be raping me right now.”

Then sudden, he be on his feet. Rouse over me furiose and yell, “You wanting I should rape you? What you want?”

“Foo, what you saying?”

“Ain’t need to call me vampire. Nor you need to talk of rape.”

“Was jokes.”

“Nay, ain’t jokes! And you ain’t leaving here, is right.” He look sharp to the window. Suck his cigarette bright and spit out smoke. “Ain’t jokes.”

“Foo, Pasha,” I say softer. “Why you angry so? Ain’t meant no wrong.”

“Rape you? I ain’t never touch you.”

“Damn, ain’t meaning nothing like that.”

He sit down, all insults in his face. Say peevish, “Truth, you cannot leave. Razin want you now.”

This shock peculiar in my nerves. I sit back to the sofa, crossing arms against myself. In the heavy dark, roo look uncanny, like in our first days — face flat, with chill uncolor eyes.

“Razin?” I say hoarse. “Why he wanting me particular? Got other girls to use.”

“Ain’t that,” say Pasha in disgusten voice. “Can leave that.”

“Then what it be?”

He wave away this question, hunch again with bitter frown. When he suck his cigarette, I notice by its swelling light, his knuckles scuffen bloody. I look by, swallowing, at a painting of a sleeper head. Wait some time of fear while its white face be blurren dark, got no expression I can see. Be thinking how I beg if I can leave here, neverless. Need only to walk across the bridge, wait for they fires to cool.

Then Pasha say, “You talk to Razin every days, been stupid work. He be a sort, ain’t bone he even know you. That he think of you.”

“So he think of me. And so?”

“He think,” say Pasha slow, like he explain to imbeciles, “and think some use for you. All this night, he seek you. Send soldats to north, if they can catch.”

“But why? All I be asking.”

Pasha shrug resenting. “He want you to work for roos.”

“Shee, work for roos.” I laugh up tight. “I help them take Marias? Razin know I never doing so.”

“Ain’t for this. Ain’t for Marias.”

“Then what it being for? Ain’t sense.”

Now Pasha make a difficult face, look to the moonlight windows. I follow his eyes and find the smoke horizon there, gone dull and thick. But soon it realize, the roo ain’t looking to the District. He heed the voices in the yard, is waring for no change. To this, my selfen nerves go thin. Think on the filth soldats outside, who chase me every step for rape.

Then Pasha frown toward his hands, say slow, “Ice, been your lie. How Europeans give you nuclears.”