Theodore Odrach - Wave of Terror

Burying his head in his hands, he fell silent for the longest time. A new overwhelming sensation overcame him, one that he could no longer control. His voice quavered and broke. “Lonia, Lonia, my dear son, what I wouldn’t do for you, if only I could. My son — my pride and joy, an engineering student, the top of his class. Tall, handsome, intelligent and — consumptive. That’s the tragedy that has befallen my family — my father, my mother, two brothers, one sister. I managed to survive somehow and you see how it goes — it’s been passed down to my children. It’s a blessing Marusia is healthy.”

Kulik felt genuine sympathy for Valentyn, whose face reflected such pain and suffering. He wanted to give him some hope and solace. Impulsively, he offered, “What if Sergei and I were to lend you the money? You could buy yourself a ticket and go to Lvov as soon as tomorrow.”

Sergei jumped in. “What a good idea! I’ve got a hundred rubles in my pocket. I can give it to you right here and now.”

“And I’ve got a hundred and fifty.” Kulik reached for his pocket-book. “I’ve got another fifty in my room.”

“Uncle, that’ll be enough for Lonia to return home with you. And don’t worry about repaying us, it can wait.”

Valentyn accepted the money gratefully and after counting it twice, stuffed it in his jacket pocket, and said, “It might be a while before I can pay you back. I have to earn it first. And my hands aren’t what they used to be. But don’t worry, I was never in debt to anyone before, at least not for very long.”

Kulik raised his glass, “To Lonia!”

“To Lonia! To our future engineer!” added Sergei.

The three men clinked glasses and the more they drank the merrier they became. Valentyn kissed the side of his glass and filled it up again. “It’s now ten o’clock and, oh, I do think the drink has gone completely to my head. You two are young, you have better resistance. Come on, drink up!”

“No, thank you. I’ve had enough,” Kulik said, in good humor. “Actually, we still plan to do some dancing before the night is over.”

“Ah, but of course, I should have realized.” Valentyn sank back into his seat. “How stupid of me. You didn’t come to call on me. No, you came here to call on Marusia. What would two red-blooded young men want with an old man like me anyway, and on New Year’s Eve? I certainly have no objection to Marusia going to the dance with the two of you.” He leaned toward Kulik. “Pity you’re so stubborn. You and Marusia would make quite the pair.”

He refilled his glass, the drink loosening his tongue. “When I was young I loved to dance. The quadrille and the venherochka were all the rage back then. The music would play and the floor would go wild. If I may say so myself, I was quite the dancer. You’d have to lift your feet high off the ground and spin your partner in midair. It was such great fun. When I lived in the village I knew all the drinking songs. Sometimes the neighbors would get together and dance while I sang: ‘So very high in the sky the eagles fly …’”

As Valentyn began on the second verse, Kulik and Sergei, pouring more drinks, joined in. The three of them sat on the sofa, filling the room with laughter and song. It was precisely at this moment that Efrosinia walked in.

“What on earth is going on here?” She could hardly believe her eyes. “You’re drunk, all of you! Marusia, quick, pass me that broom over there.” Taking hold of the handle, she rushed at the men.

“Auntie,” Sergei said, “calm yourself, please. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all.”

She glared at him. “Are you the one who brought liquor into my house?”

“Mother!” Marusia cried. “Don’t start up. Not now.”

Valentyn stumbled to his feet. He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out the money and waved it in front of his wife’s nose.

“Efrosinia,” he began, “I have very good news. The boys and I were celebrating — not the New Year, but the return of our Lonia. Yes, it’s true. After tomorrow I’m leaving for Lvov. Here’s the money for the ticket. The boys lent it to me. Now everything will turn out fine. I’ll bring Lonia back and you’ll be able to sleep nights again.”

Efrosinia froze, speechless. Could it really be true that at last she would see her son again? Lonia would be home and in just a few days! Holding her shaking hands against her breast, she fell to her knees and wept and laughed at the same time.

Marusia looked closely at Kulik. “Are you drunk? You didn’t strike me as the drinking type. Is it true, did you lend Father the money?”

“Yes, Marusia, with Sergei.”

“That was very generous of you.” She eyed her cousin with suspicion “Seryoza, why did you two come here tonight? Was it you who suggested this visit?”

“Yes, it was. Marusia, it’s New Year’s Eve, after all. In fact, it’s almost eleven. Why don’t you come with us to the dance? We’ll have a grand time.”

Valentyn went up to his daughter and whispered encouragingly in her ear. “Don’t be so difficult, dear. Go ahead and have yourself some fun. Ivan Demianovich here seems like a decent fellow, a teacher, a historian, not to mention — good marriage material.”

“Father!” Then to Kulik, apologetically, “Please don’t pay any attention to him. He’s had too much to drink. His mind always becomes jumbled when he’s …” Then she caught herself. “Wait a minute, why am I apologizing to you? You’re the one who got him drunk in the first place!”

“I’m not drunk, my little pigeon,” her father called out. “I’m just happy. Go and welcome in the New Year. Dance the night away.”

Rudely, without a further word, the girl rushed across the kitchen and disappeared into the living room. The two friends looked at each other, disappointed. Marusia had left them; they were convinced that she had retired for the night. But to their surprise, after barely fifteen minutes, she reappeared, her hair piled high, wearing a pearl-white evening dress pinched at the waist and low-heeled pumps. The young men were delighted. How beautiful she looked! Kulik had never seen anyone like her. How classic her features were and how soft and silky her complexion. Her beautiful body radiated warmth and tenderness and she looked lovelier than anyone could ever imagine. Kulik could not take his eyes off her. He lost his head completely.

Everywhere one looked, couples were rapidly twirling each other about. The temperature was high and the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of cheap perfume. When the trumpets started to blare, the noise became ten times louder and the floor fell into a frenzy.

Kulik was beginning to get into the spirit of things and found himself tapping his foot to the beat of the music. Somewhere deep in the crowd he spotted Marusia with Sergei, dancing to a Tchaikovsky waltz. She was certainly the most striking girl there. He regretted having insisted that Sergei have the first dance with her and he waited impatiently for it to end. He tried to cheer himself up by reminding himself that he never really cared much for Tchaikovsky anyway, especially when the passages became melancholy and alternated with folk music. But Tchaikovsky aside, Kulik would have given anything to be on that floor with Marusia.

There was no slowing down. The dance floor was even more packed than before. Crowds of men and women thronged the doorway, smoking and drinking cold spiked punch, talking and laughing. Kulik was strangely attracted by the hubbub; he even forgot for a moment where he was. He felt a great desire to hear what people were saying, perhaps even to join in a conversation or two, but every time he caught a word, another drowned it out almost instantly. He moved on. A man came spinning his way, rather short, balding, his arms around a woman half a head taller than he. Kulik recognized him at once: it was Yeliseyenko, Chief of Education.