It had already been two years since she left Nora’s and returned home. After two years of red tape and other ordeals, Lena had finally received a visa to go to Argentina and was now living in a small town in Mendoza Province, where her swarthy husband worked as an engineer in a winery—something his impoverished family in Buenos Aires couldn’t even dream of. Taisia had received twelve letters in two years from her daughter—strange, incomprehensible letters, from which she could derive only one thing: that Lena wasn’t dancing the tango in Argentina. Six months earlier, a letter arrived that made things absolutely clear: Lena was expecting a baby, and she wanted her mother to come help her out in the first months. It was astonishing that Taisia, who was usually a chatterbox, had never said a word to Nora about this invitation. Taisia had received her visitor’s visa, printed on fancy paper covered with official stamps, from the Argentinian consulate, had bought a ticket without saying a word, and two days before her departure had come to inform Nora about it. The chocolates and the blanket were, thus, goodbye presents, and Nora, bewildered, ate two sickly-sweet chocolates in a row; they seemed to stick in her throat. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Taisia, whom she considered to be a straightforward, trustworthy person, had so deceived her. It was as though she had now discovered a hidden layer in Taisia, some inexplicable insidiousness in her behavior, a completely unwarranted furtiveness.
Nora still couldn’t bring herself to ask the question that most perplexed her: why did Taisia conceal her plans for so long, why did she wait until two days before the departure to tell Nora about it? Afraid she would start to cry from hurt and confusion, Nora got up and went over to her desk, where she began rooting around in a drawer. She took an unattractive gold ring with faceted alexandrite that had belonged to Grandmother Zinaida out of a little wooden box and placed it in front of Taisia—a memento. Taisia put it on her finger and burst into tears.
“Oh, Nora … But it’s gold! And it fits perfectly. You won’t regret it? But I shouldn’t really take it … It’s so valuable!” She took it off, and put it on again. And smiled, and wiped her nose, and went to kiss Nora.
“I don’t know what I’ll do without you and Yurik, Nora.”
Get lost, Nora thought. You’re such a fake.
Out loud she said, “When are you coming back?”
“Soon, soon. I’ll only be gone for three months,” Taisia said.
Nora’s project with Tengiz was pending; all her plans were falling through.
Maybe I should have Mama come stay for a few weeks, Nora thought.
She didn’t have time to ask her. Not two days had passed since Taisia’s departure when Andrei Ivanovich dropped by. He was alone, without Amalia. Nora immediately sensed something was amiss. And it was worse than she could ever have suspected.
Amalia had cancer.
“Where is the tumor?”
“It’s … everywhere. They didn’t find just one tumor. It’s all over. She’s … she’s on her way here. She just went to the hairdresser.”
Andrei Ivanovich choked up. He was pale, and his hands trembled. Nora sat silently, designing a set for the immediate future in her mind. She would prepare Amalia’s old room for her and drag in the old bed, call the plumber right away to repair all the faucets and the toilet tank, free up the one-door wardrobe for her mother’s belongings, buy some potted plants—the way Mama loved it. She didn’t get any further than that in building her plans, because an indescribable nightmare loomed. She would have to tell Yurik. Poor thing, he loved both of them so much. Sometimes it seemed he didn’t love anyone but them. Nora thought about the dogs that her mother would probably want to bring here with her. Then she stopped herself.
“Andrei Ivanovich, maybe they made a mistake?”
“No, there’s no mistake. It has already—what’s it called?—metastasized. I can feel myself that things are bad with her. Not a day goes by when I don’t wonder: Why her? Why not me? I would give anything if I could trade places with her.”
Soon Amalia arrived, with a traditional flowery shawl over her head, her nails painted red. Nora stared at her in astonishment: it was the first time in her life she had ever seen her mother wearing nail polish. She was a first-rate draftsman; long fingernails were considered inappropriate in her profession. Amalia started laughing.
“Nora, I realized that I couldn’t appear before the doctor with hands looking the way they did. They’d think I was a cook or a housepainter and not offer me the proper treatment.”
Was this a case of extreme self-possession, or simple incomprehension?
“Mama, move back home with me. You are officially registered at this address. The municipal hospitals are better, after all. Tusya’s cousin runs the department at the Herzen Institute; we can arrange for you to get treated there.”
“I’ve already thought about it. I understand the situation, of course, dear. They were about to suggest I get treated out where we live, in the country, not here where I am registered. But we’ve already been to the municipal oncology clinic, and they gave me a referral.” Amalia began to rummage through her purse, but Nora stopped her.
“How do you feel, though? Are you in pain?”
“You won’t believe it, but I just had a sore throat—I thought it was tonsillitis. I kept gargling, and gargling. I felt it on one side, as usually happens with tonsillitis. But it kept hurting and wouldn’t get better. I thought maybe it was my tooth; I’ve had problems with it on that side of my mouth for a long time now. Then my glands swelled up—here, take a look.” And she moved aside her scarf, which had been tied in a jaunty bow.
How sweet and youthful she was! But she was already over seventy. The hair at her temples had only just started turning gray, and it was growing out in tight little ringlets. She was still pretty; she had almost no wrinkles on her face. Only her neck betrayed her age—it was crepey and lined. She had lost weight in the last half year, and this suited her. Nora was suddenly overcome by such a strong rush of love for her—she had never felt anything like it. It was like water bursting out of a tap. Or fog covering a mountain. Or a downpour on a quiet day.
“Did Andrei tell you? Today the doctor told me an operation wasn’t necessary. I thought they’d just cut it out and that would be it. She says that I have to consult some professor or other, and that chemotherapy is the best way to go. It’s more effective, you see.”
Amalia stayed overnight, and Andrei Ivanovich went home to feed the dogs.
And so Amalia returned home, to the place she had lived since she was born. For Nora, a new life began. She spent a lot of time with her mother, but now things were different from before. Amalia was like an honored guest at Nora’s house. Andrei Ivanovich came every day and stayed for an hour or two, having spent six or eight hours on the road.
Nora drove her mother around to her doctors’ appointments. Amalia was quiet and submissive. Her eyes looked anxious, and her movements were uncertain. She no longer laughed out loud at the slightest provocation. Nora missed this almost gratuitous laughter, which had so irritated her before.
A month later, Amalia was admitted to the hospital. Now Nora brought her soup and pomegranates, watching her mother grow weaker and more diminished from one day to the next, becoming more and more like a frightened child. Andrei Ivanovich found homes for the dogs, got rid of the horse, and moved in with Nora.
Now Nora spent less time at the hospital. She saw how her mother perked up when Andrei Ivanovich entered the ward, and felt the old jealousy that she had experienced as a child. Then the doctors sent Amalia home—to give her a break from the treatment, as they said. She started feeling better. It turned out that the chemotherapy had not helped at all; her blood was destroyed, but the doctors insisted that she continue with this sadistic treatment. They prescribed a very expensive foreign drug called vincristine, which Tengiz managed to get hold of in Germany. He was in Düsseldorf to stage The Death of Tarelkin, a production Nora had dreamed up and designed, though she had been unable to accompany Tengiz.