Theodore Odrach - Wave of Terror

Folding her arms over her chest, Efrosinia narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot. She allowed him to go on.

“Uh, as I was saying, what I’m suggesting is that Lonia get better first, and then let him come home when he’s fit to travel. Yes, that would make the most sense. I can certainly go tomorrow, but that might not be the best idea, uh, for Lonia, that is. And besides, Lonia is almost an engineer, it’s just a matter of months before he gets his diploma …”

At that point, Efrosinia lost her patience and flew at him. “I see where you’re going with this, old man. Talking in circles, as always. You have the money to buy your ticket and still you drag your feet! Marusia develops a slight fever and out of nowhere you feel obligated to nurse her back to health.” Clutching his arm, she became more exasperated. “I’m going to get you on that train if it’s the last thing I do. And shave off that ridiculous beard of yours and make yourself presentable! You can’t be looking like that in Lvov!”

It was not long before a full-blown fight erupted. The shouting and screaming became so heated that the house seemed to shake. Marusia, unable to endure it any longer, got out of bed, stumbled to the top of the staircase and shouted for her mother. Efrosinia hurried out of the room to tend to her daughter.

Left alone, Valentyn went into the kitchen. He was more than grateful for this moment of respite. Spreading himself out on the divan, he put his feet up and fell into a doze. Barely ten minutes had passed when he was awakened by a strange grumbling noise. It was rather loud and raspy and was coming from somewhere in his body, beneath his chest. Before long he realized it was his stomach. It occurred to him that he had not eaten anything all day. Efrosinia had not only not prepared lunch for him but she hadn’t made supper either, and now it appeared he was expected to go to bed without any food. Efrosinia had even neglected to light the stove, something she did dutifully every evening.

Valentyn grew more and more gloomy. The New Year, without question, was getting off to a bad start. He realized things were going badly for him. Perhaps he should give in to her demands, just get on that train and go to Lvov — at least then he would be left in peace. He pondered a moment. No, her expectations were unreasonable; she was simply unable to grasp the complexity of the situation. The more he thought about it, the more he felt a wrong was being done him. And he knew at that moment that he had to build himself up and stand up to her. But she wouldn’t put up with it and in the end he would lose. No matter how he looked at it there was only one road for him to take, and that was the road to Lvov. Getting up, limping out into the hallway, he resolved to get it over with, to finally give in to her. He called out hoarsely, “Have it your way, old woman. Give me the money and first thing tomorrow I’ll go to the station and buy myself a ticket.”

At the sound of these words, Efrosinia flew down the stairs. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you want the money?”

“How else do you expect me to buy the ticket?”

Efrosinia shook her head. “No, no, no. I won’t give you the money, not in a million years. Do you think for one minute I trust you? No! I’ll go with you tomorrow and I’ll buy the ticket for you. The train leaves at eleven in the morning. I’ve already made up three parcels for you to take with you. Now go get some sleep. You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Valentyn’s stomach growled and he felt weak in the knees and exhausted. “You expect me to go to bed on an empty stomach? Oh, Efrosinia, your heart is made of stone. When I’m dead and buried, think of how you treated me.”

“When you’re dead and buried what difference will it make to you?”

It was not long before they started up again. Insults flew back and forth, doors banged, there were threats and shouts.

Marusia listened anxiously to her parents. But this time she was not so much disturbed by their arguing as she was by the manner in which they chose to do it. She couldn’t help but hear what was being said, and she cringed at every word. It was the worst possible scene she could have imagined: they were going at each other in Ukrainian! Why couldn’t they do it in Russian? And why did they have to use such dreadful Ukrainian phrases as “May you get cholera and die!” or “You old scarecrow in a pea field!” Pulling the covers over her head, she felt overwhelmingly distressed and embarrassed. She envied her friends whose parents were able to maintain well-balanced arguments in Russian without using even the slightest Ukrainian word. Why couldn’t her parents do the same? She vowed to herself that when she married, all her arguments with her husband would be in Russian and Russian only.

From downstairs there came more expletives, more wailing, knocking, then a heavy thud, as if something went smashing against the wall. When at last the front door slammed, Marusia knew it was her father storming out of the house.

Silence reigned. She closed her eyes, and tried to nod off. Bits and pieces of thoughts floated across her mind; she began to reflect on the New Year’s Eve dance. Why had she run off so suddenly? And who was that tall dark-haired girl dancing with Kulik? Where did she come from? Could she, Marusia, possibly be jealous of her? No! No! Marusia shuddered. “He’s just a moujik . How could I have feelings for a moujik ? True, he’s managed to obtain an education and manners of sorts, but that language of his. Good Lord!”

Trying to redirect her thoughts, taking a sip of water from a glass her mother had put on her night table, she heard a vigorous knock on her door. To her surprise Kulik appeared on the threshold.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“Good evening, Marusia. I’ve only come for a minute. You’re quite pale, if I may say so.”

“I’m sick, can’t you see?” She could not help coughing. She seemed annoyed that he was there. “Why else would I be lying here? Count yourself lucky Mother’s asleep. What do you want?”

“Sergei told me you weren’t well and I thought I would visit you. I hope you’re feeling better.” He handed her a small box of chocolates.

She flushed and drew several long, deep breaths. Then she became even more insulting. “I don’t need any consolations from you. And talk to me properly, not like a moujik . I can’t bear to listen to you.”

Kulik. pretended not to notice. He continued amiably, “What happened to you? Did you catch cold? The weather—”

She cut him off. “Did you come here to make idle chit-chat? Aren’t you supposed to be attending some silly teachers’ conference somewhere?”

Kulik stepped back, deeply affronted. He hadn’t expected this. Forcing a smile, he resolved to leave before he lashed back at her, saying something he might regret. After he bade a quick farewell and turned toward the door, he was startled to find Efrosinia blocking his way. How did the old woman manage to creep in so quietly, like a cat? And how long had she been standing there listening?

“So, it’s you!” She came at him almost instantly, her eyes fixed on him. “I see you chose to pay us another visit. Do you see what that dance of yours did to my daughter! She’s been fighting a fever all week. As if I didn’t have enough problems already.”

“Mother,” the girl groaned, “please, I have a headache.”

Glancing briefly at her daughter, turning back to Kulik, Efrosinia’s face worked with anger. “Why did you come back to this house? Do you have some kind of designs on my daughter? Some suitor you’d make! Hah! Letting a girl go home alone in the dead of night! That’s a moujik for you!” Then a warning. “If I were you I’d leave while I still had the chance.”