Juliet Butler - The Less You Know the Sounder You Sleep

The low hum of chatter in the hall falls suddenly silent as Zlata Igorovna sweeps through to her office. After Timur stole our money, we decided to keep all our dollars in the safe in the Administration offices. We weren’t going to keep it in a bank. Not after the rouble collapsed a few years ago under Yeltsin and wiped out everyone’s savings like a tsunami. Now all our money’s tucked away in a dark safe. Joolka wanted us to make a will leaving Aunty Nadya all our money if we died, because otherwise it might go to our brothers, but instead Zlata persuaded us to sign a document saying it would go to the Sixth. Zlata is very persuasive… and me and Masha thought she might be nicer to us. Some hope.

‘ Da, da ,’ says the babushka behind us. ‘No use torturing yourself with regrets, is there… for wasted years…’

‘ Gospodi , that’s all we need right now, babulya ,’ says Masha, laughing. ‘Good old Ostrovsky’s “Man’s Dearest Possession is Life” – give us a break!’ I laugh too, remembering the essay she refused to write in school. Masha knew how to stand up for herself, all right. Like the time she started giving the Sanity Commission in the Twentieth a lecture about how clever I was. Or when she stood up to the crowds in the zoo while I was cowering behind her.

‘All my life, all my strength…’ Masha proclaims, holding one arm out like an actor, ‘has been given to the finest cause in the world…’

‘The liberation of Mankind!’ we all chime together and laugh. We’re allowed to make fun of the Soviets now.

‘Well, well, we mustn’t mock,’ says the old lady, smiling but shaking her head. ‘It was a fine idea. A grand idea. We were happy back then. We all need to believe in something.’

‘I believe in Masha,’ says Masha, then glances across at me. ‘And Dasha.’

‘Ah yes, it must be nice to be you two,’ the woman goes on.

‘Nice?’ says Masha.

‘Yes, I was orphaned in the War and then there weren’t enough men to go round so I’ve been on my own all my life. And do you know what I miss most?’

‘Don’t tell us, babulya , I’ll blush,’ laughs Masha, clapping her hands over my ears.

The babushka laughs too. ‘No, no, not that, you never miss what you’ve never had. No, I miss human contact. Just a hand on my shoulder, a little kiss on my cheek. Tenderness… You two are sweet together. You always have your arms around each other.’

‘ Ei , I’d fall tit over arse if I didn’t hold on to her! But I’ll give you a hug any day, babulya – if you’ll give me a dollar.’

‘ Aaakh , I’ve no dollars, meelinkaya . I’ve a few kopecks and I wouldn’t buy hugs with them.’ She shifts painfully on her sticks.

‘Why don’t you go over and sit on that chair,’ says Masha. ‘It’s stupid you have to stand up, we’ll keep your place.’

‘No, you fucking won’t!’ A man with one leg standing behind her pushes into our conversation. ‘We’d all go and fucking sit down if we wanted! Then we’d all lose our fucking places, wouldn’t we?’ He glares at the old woman.

‘That’s all right, meelinki ,’ she says soothingly to him. ‘I’m fine standing. We’re all fine.’

But Masha’s chortik rises up dark and flashing behind her eyes and she pushes angrily towards him. ‘Well, you’re a great example of yobinny Mankind, aren’t you? Wonderful member of the human race, you are. When you need us to hold your place because you need a pee, I’ll make sure not to.’ He’s twice our size.

‘No, Mashinka!’ I grab the back of her collar and pull her away sharply. She looks round at me, seething. ‘Stop!’ I say. ‘You don’t need to get into a brawl with some bullying idiot like him.’ The old lady moves between him and us, making hushing sounds.

‘Come on,’ I say, ‘this queue’s going faster than I thought. We’ll be in soon.’

The last time I saw Masha’s chortik was soon after that article in Moskovskii Novostii. She’d wanted vodka. We’d been sitting in our room, staring at the walls. Both of us horribly, desperately, wanting vodka.

‘I’m going downstairs,’ she’d said finally with a crack in her voice. ‘I’m going to find someone to get us a bottle.’

She went to stand but I refused.

‘Get up.’ She looked at me and I saw it, I saw it there, her chortik , dancing mockingly behind her eyes, the chortik that needs to be fed fear in order to exist. ‘Get the fuck up ,’ she said.

‘ Nyet .’ I didn’t move.

‘Get the fuck up! ’ She’d pulled me then, with all her body, but I wouldn’t follow her. She hauled me right off the bed and I fell, flopping on to the floor, still refusing to move with her. And then she leant over me and grabbed my hair, trying to haul me up into an upright position. ‘Oh yes you will fucking get up, you will, you will!’ I shoved her away then, with all the strength I had, and pulled myself back on to the bed. Then I leaned over and before she knew what was happening, I put my hands around her throat and looked into her eyes. I looked right at her stupid damn chortik , dancing around back there, stabbing me with its evil little electric shocks and I said, ‘ Nyet .’ I closed my fingers around her neck, I’m stronger than her, we both know I’m stronger, and I started choking the life out of her. And then I saw the fear in her own eyes, a silver sphere which popped, and I swear I heard it burst as her chortik just shrivelled and shrank. It was at the moment we both knew I’d won. Finally.

And from then on, we found our balance. We found each other. I think I found the Masha who’d always been there, waiting to be told what to do. The Masha who never wanted to be a cruel, psychopathic bully but who wanted to be held in check by a strict ‘parent’. And to be loved.

And as for me, I’ve fought day by day, month by month over the last three years to be strong, not weak. I’ve fought for her, because I know it’s best for her, for both of us. I’d realized that, like a mother, I’d spoilt her, I’d loved her too much, and I’d created an out-of-control monster who I feared.

Until now.

‘So anyway, what I meant,’ goes on the old lady as if nothing has happened, ‘is that you two must never get lonely.’

Lonely? I consider that for a moment. No, she’s wrong. I’ve been lonely with Masha. I think back to the time when she wouldn’t let Slava come and visit us in the Twentieth. And I was lonely after he died. I feel that, despite being Together with Masha, I’ve sometimes been the loneliest person in the world.

‘Although I suppose we all need solitude?’ she goes on. ‘I’ve had enough solitude for ten lifetimes, but perhaps, yes, we all need solitude?’

‘She gets solitude, all right,’ says Masha, grinning. ‘She puts those new cushioned earphones on and she’s off into her world of lovey dovey lya lya . She might as well be Lenin in Exile for all she cares about me.’

We all laugh.

When it’s finally our turn to go into the Medical Commission room, the doctor glances up at us. She’s the same one we’ve had for the past twelve years in the Sixth.

‘Still together are we, girls?’ she says cheerily.

‘Still together,’ we both say at the same time, smiling.

‘Off you go then.’

And she ticks her box.

‘She needs banana skins,’ says Masha, cocking her head on one side and looking at the little lemon tree she’s just placed carefully out on the balcony. ‘That’s what Baba Iskra said. She said banana skins have potassium.’