He didn’t want to blame Babunya, but he did. She obviously blamed herself as well, and part of him thought, Good.
But his parents had known about this custom as well, and he would have known about it had his mom and dad not tried so hard to keep them all away from Russian things, from their own culture. They were all at fault, they were all responsible, and maybe they were all being punished for it.
Maybe they deserved to die.
He had a sudden clear image of the banya, of bringing his family into it, like an executioner leading condemned prisoners into a gas chamber.
Was it his brain coming up with this? Or was he being influenced by something else? Was this what Babunya had been talking about?
He didn’t want to think about it. His head hurt, and he pushed the thought away, forcing himself to see it for what it was.
Evil.
He looked at Babunya. “Did you tell Mom and Dad?”
“No,” she said carefully.
“Why?”
“Because your father, I think…” She shook her head, looking concerned, and Adam felt scared. She was talking to him seriously, he sensed, like an adult instead of like a child, and while that was frightening enough, her hesitancy and confusion invested it with a dread that went even deeper. He thought of the banya again, and he knew that he had to confess.
“I went back to the banya,” he blurted out. “I haven’t been there in a while, but I went back a whole bunch of times after you told me not to, and I even took my friends there, and they’re the same friends who were throwing rocks at cars with me.” He was on the verge of crying again, and he stopped, looked at her, tried to gather his composure. “Maybe it… affected me,” he said. “Us. Maybe we’re all, like, contaminated or something.”
He wished he spoke Russian or wished she spoke better English. This was something that it seemed important to communicate clearly, and he was not sure he could make his grandmother understand what he wanted her to understand.
She seemed to, though, and she nodded solemnly and touched his shoulder. “Yes,” she said. “The banya is bad place. But you stop going there, no?”
“A while ago. I got scared. But my friend Scott went back and tried to take pictures and the pictures had ghosts on them.”
“He stop too?”
“We all did. We all got scared.”
“Good.” She nodded. “That good. If you can stop, it is all right.”
His head was still pounding. It was as if his brain was being squeezed, as if he was connected to some remote control and someone was cranking up the pain volume every time he tried to talk.
“I saw a Russian spoon up there,” he said. “Where we were throwing rocks. On that little ledge. It was… spooky. And there was, like, this little… cave. And it reminded me of the banya—”
“Spooky,” Babunya repeated, still nodding, thinking.
“I want to tell Mom and Dad. I think we should tell them.”
“No.”
“Why not? Maybe they can—”
“No,” she repeated. “Wait.”
“Why? Wait for what? Things to get worse?”
“Remember what happen to other family in this house? Father kill his children…”
She looked at him, and he was suddenly filled with a knowledge he did not want to have. He knew what she was saying, and he could see the image in his mind, but he shook his head vehemently. “No. That couldn’t happen.”
Even good people influenced by evil.
Evil always come back.
She nodded slowly, as if agreeing with him, but he knew she didn’t agree at all, and he wondered what she was thinking, what she knew. Maybe she was like a witch, he thought. Maybe she was psychic. Maybe she could see the future.
The idea should have made him more afraid of his grandmother, but for some reason it didn’t. It made him feel safer, more secure.
Except when he thought about his father.
A look passed between them.
“Okay,” he said. “I won’t say anything.”
Babunya smiled absently, patted his head. “You good boy. That why you have happy face.”
She was obviously distracted, obviously thinking about something she did not plan to share with him, and for that he was grateful. She had shared too much already. He didn’t like this adult talk, didn’t like being trusted with knowledge he should not have to know, secrets he should not have to keep. He’d been eager to grow up, but he was eager no longer. He wanted to be able to be just a kid again, not to have to think about any problem other than his own, to let adults do all the worrying and thinking.
She stood, holding her back and letting out a small “Oy.” She looked down at him. “Stay here,” she said. “Be nice to your father, but be careful. Make sure Teo be careful too. Try to obey everything he says.”
Adam felt something close to panic. “Why? Where are you going? Aren’t you going to be here?”
“Church. I will be back soon. Before dark.”
“Babunya—” The urge to cry had returned.
“I will be back soon.” She said some sort of prayer in Russian, smiled at him, and his headache seemed to fade away.
“Be good,” she told him and kissed his forehead before she turned to leave.
He had been forbidden to contact Scott or Dan since the arrest, had seen them only in school, and even there paranoia had severely inhibited their conversations. It had been a tough two weeks. He could not leave the house on his own, could not go anywhere except school, could not stay after school for any reason, and he’d had a difficult time adjusting. He knew he’d been in the wrong, though, and he’d obeyed his parents’ orders, spending his time reading, watching TV, doing his homework, writing letters to Roberto, even playing games with Teo.
But this was too big, too important. He had to break the prohibition. When he knew everyone else was occupied—Sasha gone, Teo outside playing, his parents busy, Babunya back at church—he sneaked surreptitiously out to the phone in his parents’ bedroom and gave Dan a quick call.
Dan’s mother answered. “Hello?”
“May I speak to Dan?”
He was whispering, he didn’t want to get caught, and Dan’s mother was immediately suspicious. “Who is this?”
He thought quick. “Robert. From Dan’s English class. I have laryngitis and I’m calling to ask about homework.”
“Oh,” she said. “Just a minute.”
He heard her call for Dan, and a minute later his friend came on the phone. “Robert?” He sounded suspicious too. There was no Robert in their English class.
“It’s me. Adam. Is your mom still there?”
“No.”
“I’ll talk fast.”
He explained about the meeting with his grandmother, gave a quick thumbnail sketch of Jedushka Di Muvedushka, told him his grandmother and the other Molokans thought that was the source of everything that was happening around town. “Even us,” he said. “Remember that Russian spoon? That’s why we were up there—”
“That’s not why we were up there,” Dan said.
“Well, maybe not. But you know what I’m saying. And get this. She says these spirits or whatever they are are uninvited. That’s the word she used. ‘Uninvited.’ ”
“Na-ta-whay,” Dan breathed.
“That’s exactly what I told her, and she went off to her church right away. I guess they’re going to try something. But I thought you should know, too.” He thought once more about how long Dan’s people had been here, how old they were. A shiver passed through him. “I thought you guys might know what to do. I thought you might have some kind of ritual or something that might work better.”