Sofi Oksanen - Purge

Liide quit her job-the one where she went around tormenting people with fees and quotas. She wouldn’t tell me why. Maybe what I said sank in. When I said a job like that was nothing but working for monsters. Or maybe somebody gave her a drubbing. I know somebody once let the air out of her bike tires. She brought the bike into the barn and asked me to replace them, but I refused to do it. I told her to let some tool do her dirty work for her, somebody who was already a slave to this government. So Martin fixed them that evening.

When Liide told me she’d quit her job, her eyes were shining, like she expected me to thank her. I thought about spitting on her, but I just gave Pelmi a scratch. I know her tricks.

Then all of a sudden she wanted to know if I had met anyone I knew when I was in the woods.

I didn’t answer her.

She also wanted to know what it was like in the woods. And what it was like in Finland, and why I went there.

I didn’t answer.

She asked me these nosy questions for a long time. Like why couldn’t I stay with the Germans after I had joined up with them.

I didn’t answer.

I saw things there that you shouldn’t tell to a woman.

I went back in my room.

Liide doesn’t want to let me go to the woods. She won’t agree to it. I’m the only person she can talk to who doesn’t quote Communist wisdom to her, and everybody needs somebody they can talk plainly to. That’s why she doesn’t want to let me go.

The grain is growing in my fields, and I can’t even see it.

Where are my two girls, Linda and Ingel? I’m racked with worry.

Hans Pekk, son of Eerik, Estonian peasant

Aliide couldn’t understand how the photo of her and Ingel had appeared in Zara’s hand. The girl said something about wallpaper and cupboards, but Aliide didn’t remember having hidden anything under the wallpaper. She had destroyed all her photos, but had Ingel stashed some photos somewhere when she was still at home? That didn’t make any sense at all. Why would she have done that, hidden a photo of the two of them together? That was indeed a Young Farmers badge on her chest. But it was so small-no one but Ingel herself would have known it was there.

When Zara had gone to bed, Aliide washed her hands and went to tap at the walls and cupboards, poke at the wallpaper, dig in the cracks in the cabinet and behind the baseboards with a knife, but she didn’t find anything. There were just clattering dishes in the cupboard and liquor coupons piled in the bottle bin.

The girl was asleep, breathing evenly, the radio rasped about the elections, and in the photograph Ingel was eternally beautiful. Aliide remembered the day they had gone to have it taken, at the B. Veidenbaum Modern Photography Studio. Ingel had just turned eighteen. They had gone to the Dietrich coffeehouse, and Ingel drank Warsaw coffee and Aliide had hot chocolate. There were cream puffs that melted in your mouth and the scent of jasmine. Ingel had bought some puff pastries to take home, and Helene Dietrich had wrapped them in white paper with a wooden stick for a handle. That was their specialty-pretty wrapping that was easy to carry. The smell of cigarettes, the rustle of newspapers. That was back when they still used to do everything together.

Aliide adjusted a hairpin. Her hand came back damp- her forehead and scalp were wet with sweat.

The coals in the stove made the photo curl. Aliide shoved in a few pieces of wood, too.

Her ear itched. She rubbed it. A fly flew away.

The morning sun shone between the curtains into Zara’s eyes and woke her up. The door to the kitchen was open; Aliide was sitting there at the table looking at her. Something wasn’t right. Pasha? Were they looking for her on the radio? What was it? She sat up and said good morning.

“Talvi isn’t coming after all.”

“What?”

“She called and said she changed her mind.” Aliide put her hand up to her eyes and said again that Talvi wasn’t coming.

Zara didn’t know what to say. Her wonderful plans were crushed. Her hope wadded up like detritus and rubbed behind her eyeballs. Talvi wouldn’t be bringing a car here. The hands jerked across the face of the clock, and Pasha came closer, she could feel the flames licking at her heels, his binoculars on the back of her neck, his car humming down the highway, the gravel flying, but she didn’t move. The light moved outside, but she stayed where she was. She hadn’t learned anything more about Aliide or about what had happened in the past. She just sat there, weak and puny, without any answers. Raadio Kukku announced the time, the news began, soon it would end, the day would go by, and Talvi and her car weren’t coming, but Pasha was.

Zara went into the kitchen and noticed Aliide give a jerk. It looked like a sob, but she wasn’t making any sound, her hands were in her lap, and Zara saw that her eyes were dry.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Zara said quickly. “How disappointing for you.”

Aliide sighed, Zara sighed, put on a sympathetic expression, but at the same time set her thoughts in motion- there was no time for guessing. Could Aliide still help her? Did she still have any cards up her sleeve? If she did, Zara would have to be pleasant to her; she couldn’t allude to the picture or her grandmother-it made Aliide hostile. She didn’t see the photograph anywhere and didn’t dare ask about it. Or should she give up the whole idea of escaping and resign herself to waiting for whatever was coming?

Grandmother would have already received the pictures that Pasha sent, of course. He wouldn’t have waited around to do that. Maybe Sasha had got some, too. And maybe her mother, and who knows who else. Pasha might even have done more than that-was everyone at home all right? No, she shouldn’t think about that. She had to concentrate on making a new plan. Aliide leaned on her cane, although she was sitting, and said, “Talvi claims she’s too busy, but what does she have to keep her busy? She sits around being a housewife, like she always wanted to. What do you want to be?”

“A doctor.”

Aliide seemed surprised. Zara explained that the reason she went to the West was to get some money for school. She was hoping to come back as soon as she had saved enough, but then Pasha came along, and a lot of things went wrong. Aliide furrowed her brow and asked Zara to tell her something about Vladivostok. Zara was startled. Was this the time for everybody to reminisce? Aliide seemed to have forgotten that Zara had men chasing her. Maybe she didn’t want to show any emotion, or maybe she was wiser than Zara. Maybe there was nothing more to do but sit and chat. Maybe it was the most sensible thing to do-enjoy this moment, when she could finally reminisce about Vladivostok. Zara forced herself to sit down calmly at the table, to hold out her coffee cup when Aliide offered her some coffee substitute, and take a piece of sour-cream pie, Talvi’s favorite, apparently. Aliide had made it the night before.

“You must not have gotten any sleep.”

“What does an old person need with sleep?”

Maybe that accounted for Aliide’s faraway look. She stood next to the table with the percolator in her hand and didn’t seem to know where to put it. Aliide Truu looked lonely. Zara cleared her throat.

“Vladivostok.”

Aliide startled, put the percolator on the floor, and sat down in a chair.