Andrea White: Radiant Girl

Chapter Four

SLEEP WAS IMPOSSIBLE. I lay on my narrow bed and gazed through the open window at the lights of the power station shining in the distance.

Although I had recently learned that science, not magic, ran the station, the process still didn’t make sense to me. Papa had explained that the individual rods in a nuclear reactor’s core contained atoms of nuclear fuel. As the fuel nuclei split, they produced energy. This heat energy boiled water to create steam. The steam turned generators to produce electricity.

But this explanation failed to answer my basic question: How could something invisible turn on my lights?

In a vain effort to find sleep, I had already counted chickens and recited my multiplication tables. I repeated my lines for the Young Pioneer ceremony. I, Katya Dubko, becoming a member of the old union Lenin Pioneers, am taking an oath to live, study and struggle as it was told by Great Lenin . But not even the oath made me the slightest bit sleepy.

I turned onto my other side and faced the new divan.

Too much had happened for me to fall asleep. So much, in fact, that I had forgotten the most amazing occurrence of all. The remembrance made me sit bolt-upright in bed.

The boy in the woods! And his curious words. “ I need to see you again ,” Vasyl had called. “ Come back to the boulder. ”

What did Vasyl want from me?

Sometimes when I heard the animals howling at night, not even my warm bed with the thick blankets Mama knitted provided enough comfort. Vasyl was probably cold and scared. I scolded myself for forgetting to tell the boy about the old blanket beneath the boulder.

And he must be hungry, too. Yet, ten feet away from me, our refrigerator was crammed with party food. The boy was so skinny; it seemed wrong for his stomach to be empty tonight. Often, I had to venture out into the night to use the outhouse. The boulder was just a little further.

My father wasn’t due back until eight in the morning. My mother spent hours in our garden each day and always bragged that she slept like a peasant. Why shouldn’t I offer Vasyl some food? I could be back in ten minutes.

I stepped onto the cold floor and moved silently towards my wardrobe. I slipped on a sweatshirt over the T-shirt that I had worn to bed and pulled on some trousers. I stuck the dirty sneakers I wore for gardening on my feet.

After I dressed, I tiptoed to my mother’s prize appliance, our Oka refrigerator, and carefully opened the door. As I slipped a large sausage into one pocket and a hunk of cheese in the other, I heard a noise and froze, afraid that I had awakened Mama.

But it was only the clock. Although I couldn’t see it in the dark, the brown cuckoo with the yellow chest must have burst out of her house to announce midnight. The bird’s house was intricately carved. Papa liked to joke that the Dubkos’ cuckoo lived in a bourgeois mansion.

My hands felt along the cool counter and touched the glass jar of smaletz (congealed lard) and the metal bowls holding dough and fragments of honeycomb before I found a rough napkin to wrap around the cheese.

I moved silently to the front door, which we never locked. Standing on the front step, I could make out the figure of my dog. Noisy was standing in the shadows underneath the oak tree, an area darker than the moonlit night. He looked wild. I guess I appeared forbidding to him, too, because when he saw me, he started barking. Thank goodness, Mama was such a sound sleeper.

I would have liked to take Noisy along for company and protection, but I decided against this plan. Without Noisy, in the unlikely event that I met someone in the woods, I could fade into the shadows.

I took a few steps towards him, and barking happily now that he had recognized me, Noisy followed me as far as his chain would allow.

“No way you’re coming with me,” I told Noisy, but he didn’t believe me and threw himself against his chain. Taking pity on him, I patted his head for a minute or so. When I began to move away, he whimpered. By the time I had reached the gate, he was crying pitifully, but I forced myself to ignore him. He could ruin everything.

I took a few steps along the path. During the daytime, I loved the way the forest muted the sun; but now, underneath the branches, the air was uncomfortably cold. The charcoal-gray woods surrounding me appeared dark and threatening. I hesitated, shivering. Although my parents turned to God rarely, only in emergencies, I knew Granny Vera always got strength from prayer. But I hadn’t talked to God for a long time, not since she’d died. Maybe compromise was the solution. I whispered to myself, “Granny Vera, please keep me safe.”

As gently as the stroke of my old granny’s gnarled hand, the wind whooshed against my cheek. Overhead, the branches creaked and swayed. What more could I want for an answer? When I raced toward the boulder, I felt wrapped in Granny Vera’s protection as surely as I felt the night air tingle on my skin.

As I moved deeper into the woods, my eyes adjusted. I found that the darkness had transformed the familiar landscape. Now, the tops of the trees disappeared into inky darkness. Spiderwebs sparkled like bright silver ladders. Patches of white moonlight checkered the otherwise black leaves. Against the noisy insect chorus, I heard the urgency of the rushing stream, and then something else.

Footsteps. And not a boy’s, a man’s. They were moving heavily through the trees. I didn’t know who would be out this late at night, but fear, for myself and for Vasyl, came over me. I ducked into the thick bushes bordering the path. Crunching into dead leaves, I lay down to wait.

Stomp. Stomp . Not one but two pairs of feet approached. A pair of brown work boots and a pair of dull-gray waitress shoes. Whispered voices drew closer.

The couple, holding hands, was only a few steps away when I recognized Boris and Marta Antropova. In the dim light, I couldn’t see Marta’s hair, once red like mine, but now bleached like dried wheat straw or her gold tooth, but I recognized the shape of her legs.

How could Boris like her? I wondered. She has such thick calves.

When I was younger, one of my favorite games with Boris had been hide-and-go-seek. He was so much older than me that I could never find him in the woods unless he wanted me to. But he was wise enough to know that a long game would frustrate me. To help me succeed, he would stand behind a tree with his arms and legs visible. I would think I was so sly and smart when I found him. “You’re it!” I would cry.

Now, I fought the temptation to jump out of the woods and surprise him.

“I’m getting a raise next month,” Boris announced proudly. “You know what that means, Marta, don’t you?”

Boris and Marta had stopped walking. They were so close that I could have reached out and touched them.

“We can finally get married,” Marta answered.

I felt a stab of pain.

“Married? Who said anything about getting married?” Boris asked. I could tell by his playful tone that he was teasing her.

In the glow of the moonlight, I saw Marta lift her eyes to take in his face. Her hand reached out, and she touched his cheek.

“You’re my own,” Marta said. “And I will love you always and forever.”

Boris slipped his hand over Marta’s hand and kissed her fingers. “Yes. Forever.”

In a ray of moonlight, I glimpsed Boris’ red lips pressed to hers. His thick fingers, so competent with the engine of his Yava, brushed gently against Marta’s face.