“I would like that very much,” I said.
He smiled and kissed me once more and squeezed my hand. He seemed utterly exhausted by the effort and soon settled into sleep.
But I had been wrong about one thing. Not everyone in the car had been asleep that night. Not long after Misha climbed into his bed, Bogdan turned around from where he had been resting with Polina in his arms and gave me a wicked wink. What did it mean? He had heard the entire clunky proposal and wanted me to know that he knew? That scoundrel. But what was I supposed to do with this knowledge? I shook my head at him and closed my eyes and pretended to drift off until I was certain he had turned back to my sister.
Misha was eager to announce the happy news the next morning, insisting it was the good and proper thing to do. I told him we should wait until we were all settled back in Kiev, but he believed the news would bring some necessary joy to our otherwise bleak lives. I didn’t see the point in fighting him; everyone would know eventually, wouldn’t they? I didn’t mention that his brother already knew, which likely meant that Polya did also. After everyone finished their tea and black bread, he stood, cleared his throat, and clasped my hand in his.
“We’re getting married,” he told everyone. “Once the war is over, of course.”
“It’s true,” I added.
It took everyone a moment to collect themselves, proving that I had been right, that it was not the time for such information. My face flushed as I saw the self-satisfied grin spread on Polya’s face as she confirmed her belief that I was under Misha’s spell; she thought he was spineless ever since he failed to defend us when we stole the chocolate and nothing he did could change her opinion of him. Bogdan stood completely still, for once, like the information did not reach his ears, this time around. He didn’t look at me or his brother, though I continued to stare at him, hoping for a smile, another wink, any kind of acknowledgment of the news being made public, until the first of the adults reacted.
“A joy,” Mama said, clasping her hands together.
“A wonderful union,” said Aunt Tamara.
“Many happy returns,” said Uncle Konstantin.
“Welcome news,” Polya muttered, as if she were forced under torture to say something.
“A useful alliance,” said Bogdan, so very pleased with himself.
No one else seemed to care that it sounded like he was talking about Hitler and Mussolini instead of two teenagers in love, like he was going to jump into more governmental critique then and there. Everyone took turns hugging us, but Polya barely touched me when hers came, it was like hugging air. Bogdan hugged me tightly, far too tightly, just to make a mockery of the entire thing. He released me at last, giving me a nod to make it clear he did not take my engagement seriously. But again, no one else seemed to notice anything awry. Perhaps I was just imagining things, I told myself, and tried to focus on the promising developments in my threadbare life. Not only had I become a woman, but I would soon be a wife.
I was restless the night before our train was to arrive in Kiev. While everyone else slept, I looked out the window near the empty bed in our car, not knowing what I was looking for. The farms slowly ceded to villages and hints that a city was looming on the horizon. Though I had been longing for Kiev since we left, I was terrified to return, though comforted by the fact that I would be doing so as Misha’s lifelong companion.
“It is hard to believe we’re only hours from the city.”
I did not jump at the sound of Bogdan’s voice. I had been waiting for him all along, though I did not know it until that moment. He had been the one I was searching for as I observed the dark night.
“As if our years in the mountains were a bad dream,” I said.
“A nightmare,” he added, “with some bright moments.”
I searched his face. He was gaunt but had grown nonetheless. His hair was long and greasy and I wanted to push it out of his eyes, to make him look more civilized. What did he want from me? Certainly he was not planning to congratulate me on my engagement.
I had the urge to ask him something, though I wasn’t sure what. Had he really meant it when he said he preferred me over my sister? Did he still feel that way, even if his actions suggested otherwise? Was he jealous of my “useful alliance,” or was he just being ornery? What were his designs on my sister? Would he continue his nightly escapades in Kiev, or were they truly a means to an end? What would the future hold for us all?
I gazed at the landscape again, a row of houses facing the station, a tractor gleaming in the distance, as if it could tell me what to say to him.
“That night when we were leaving Kiev on this very train—what were you shielding me from?”
His face fell. Clearly he had been expecting a question of a different nature, perhaps a romantic one, not for me to remind him of whatever darkness he had seen long ago. I must admit that I, too, was a bit shocked by my line of questioning.
“A pile of corpses,” he said.
“A pile of corpses?” I repeated, too loudly though no one stirred, and even surprised myself by laughing. “Is that all?”
He swallowed and took a step away from me. “It was something at the time.”
Then he seemed to reconsider. He grabbed my face with both hands, and planted a big, mean kiss on my lips. He even jammed his tongue in my mouth, which was the first time I had ever tasted a stranger’s tongue. I let it linger for a moment out of curiosity before pushing him away. The kiss did not exactly repulse me, but it angered me. The fact that he had gone from discussing a pile of corpses to kissing me showed that he was compelled by aggression, not affection. Additionally, he knew I was marrying his brother and didn’t honor our union. And he was entangled with my sister—disrespect all around. I pushed him away and kicked his ankle.
“What fire,” he said, putting a hand to his cheek and shaking his head, as if I were some coquette, as if the whole thing had not been his idea.
“What gall,” I said, but he just turned away and climbed back in bed with my sister.
He left me standing there, facing the window, confused and not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the prospect of my second kiss trailing my first by only a day. After a while, I was fairly certain I had hallucinated the kiss, that Bogdan couldn’t have possibly kissed me then, just like he couldn’t have possibly declared his feelings for me when my father had gone missing.
But this was all nonsense, to be put behind me at once. I pledged not to think of his sneaky, dirty kiss just as I told myself never to think of poor Licky once he was converted into stew. I also pledged not to think about my poor father, or even my wicked grandmother. And so I pressed my face up against the glass thinking about all the things I promised myself never to think about again until I saw Kiev looming in the distance and realized it was morning.
What else is there to say? Mama, Polya, and I returned to our communalka, which was largely intact except that some Germans had lived there and left with the Dimitrev cabinets and Stella and Ella, having taken them for brides. Aunt Mila’s husband went the way of Papa, and the Kostelbaums from below fared much worse. Even our groundskeeper, Maxim, who had once told my sister she could be a film star, had been purged. The empty rooms in my family’s apartment were quickly filled with other families who returned from the war whose homes had been blighted, and Aunt Mila resumed fighting with them over her territory as she had done in a previous life, which lifted her spirits. But thankfully, I did not have to spend long in the apartment, which would never feel like home again.