‘No-o-o-o.’ the woman screeched — lurching toward Kartsev’s legs.
The guns all rose. But a guard stomped his boot down on her back before they could fire. He pressed her flat and forced a loud grunt from her diaphragm. Her bones showed through the simple print dress. She lay pinned under the man’s heavy foot. His pistol was pointed at the back of her head. He wore a detached, disinterested expression. He looked at Kartsev questioningly through red and puffy eyelids.
‘Let her go’ Kartsev ordered. The man lifted his boot from her back. She lay flat on her stomach. She wasn’t fat yet. Kartsev guessed she was young. ‘Why don’t you get up?’ he suggested. Maybe it was the tone in his voice. Or maybe the woman reasoned that calm was her only salvation. Whatever it was, she got to her feet and stood slouching before him — staring at the floor. ‘Now, then. Good.’ Her eyes dared only take in his shoes. ‘What is your name?’ he asked.
She tried to speak, but choked. She coughed and wiped at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Her dress was half again too large for her thin frame ‘Tatiana, sir.’
‘A-ah, Tatiana! But that’s a beautiful name.’ She looked up through unwashed hair for an instant. She had a pretty face. ‘Tell me, Tatiana. Has anyone attempted to organize this building for any purpose? I noticed the tidy walkway through the trash on the street. Is there some system for keeping the walk clear?’
She was already shaking her head vigorously. Her unkempt curls flung across her forehead and eyes. ‘No, sir! I swear it on my life — no!’
‘Calm down. I’m not a policeman. I’m a scholar. A scientist. I just have a few questions.’
The woman was swaying. Kartsev thought she’d collapse where she stood. ‘Have a seat. Are you all right? Sit down.’ The woman looked around as if she couldn’t find the couch in her own apartment.
‘Sit down!’ barked the menacing guard. She stumbled to the sofa and began to sob again. She held her head with one hand and propped her bony frame up with the other. Her son clambered over the arm of the sofa and collided with her roughly. Guns were drawn in reaction to the sudden movement.
‘Stop this!’ Kartsev ordered the guards. Despite the apartment’s chill, it was uncomfortably stuffy with so many people in it. ‘In fact, why don’t you all just clear out,’ he ordered as he unbuttoned his overcoat. ‘Out!’ he repeated. By the time Kartsev’s hat and gloves were off, the room was empty save for him, the woman and the child. Kartsev pulled a chair up to the sofa. ‘Go to your room,’ the woman whispered to the boy. He clung to her with both arms and legs like an infant chimp. ‘Go!’ she said, prying him loose.
The boy ran to the kitchen and disappeared into a room the size of a coat closet. The woman straightened her hair. She wore no make-up. Her skin was pale. But no lines creased her youthful face. Kartsev guessed she wasn’t even twenty-five.
‘Do you have a husband?’ he asked. She found the courage to look at him and shake her head. It was Kartsev who turned away. The apartment was small and in what looked to be a poor area of town. But the furnishings were of decent quality. They were of an age between aging junk and incipient antique. ‘Were these things from your family?’ he asked. She sniffed and nodded. ‘Were they in the Party?’ She was alert to danger, but she nodded ever so slightly. ‘And where are they?’
She swallowed. ‘They’re dead.’
‘How do you make do? Do you have a job?’
‘No! I swear to God!’
‘But it is all right to have a job. There has been a great deal of confusion about the tenets of anarchy. It is all right to have a job so long as it is not coerced. It is perfectly all right to voluntarily clear the walk out front. The only form of prohibited social behavior is forced behavior.’ She looked directly at him now. She swallowed so hard he could see the contractions in her thin neck. Her arms were like sticks protruding from the short sleeves. ‘How long has it been since you’ve eaten?’
Her lower lip quivered. ‘Two days.’
‘And what did you have then?’
She shrugged. ‘Some cabbage.’
‘And where did you find this cabbage?’
She again dropped her gaze. ‘In the trash,’ she practically whispered. ‘But I washed it!’
Kartsev sat back against the hard wood chair. ‘Would you say your standard of living is average, below average, or above? Which of the three?’ The woman wore a look of confusion despite how simply he’d phrased the question. When she began shaking her head, he tried again. ‘You haven’t eaten in two days. Do you consider yourself worse off than your neighbors?’
‘They’re all pigs’ she muttered — her lips curling.
‘Why do you say that?’
Her eyes sagged closed. She shook her head in clear disgust. ‘They… they have food, you know? Some of them. And the men… For a moldy, hard end of a loaf of bread they expect…’ She fell quiet.
‘They expect what?’
She looked at him, leaning forward. ‘I’d do anything to get out of here,’ she whispered. It took Kartsev a moment to understand her. Her hands straightened her dress primly at her knees. She dried her palms on the fabric. He now wished she would find some object other than him for her gaze. ‘I’m clean,’ she continued. ‘I have no diseases.’
‘Yes,’ Kartsev said — rising. ‘Well…’ He began to pace the room nervously. There were photos of the woman as a girl at some Black Sea resort with her family.
She grew upset. ‘I can clean up. This isn’t what I look like! The men at the institute where I worked were always hitting on me. You’ll see. You’ll like me!’
Kartsev was highly agitated by the suggestion. By the entire situation, in fact. He wandered to the kitchen, keeping his back to the woman and her now pleading brown eyes. ‘That’s not why I’m here.’
From the creaking sound he knew she had risen. He turned to see her approaching with fists clenched at her sides. ‘You’ll not take my son!’ she screeched with astonishing vigor.
‘No!’ Kartsev blurted out — appalled. The apartment door opened. Kartsev waved the guards back outside. ‘You misunderstood me entirely!’ She relaxed into a defeated, exhausted slump. But with what could only have been sheer force of will, she straightened her back. Her small breasts pointed through her dress. ‘You don’t like me?’ she asked.
Kartsev searched the room for something else at which to look. ‘Well, you’re a very attractive woman, I’m sure.’
She came up to him. She raised her hands but then thought better of it. She stood before him awkwardly. ‘I’ll do anything you want. Give me a chance. You’ve never had anyone like me. I’m almost like a virgin. My son… it was one time. I was seventeen. I would have had an abortion, but my mother was afraid I could never get pregnant again.’ She stepped even closer. ‘You’d like me.’