In the Red (19 page)

I
t was decided that Elena would be the one to accompany Irina to the abortion clinic. This was a hushed business better suited to females, a business with no fathers. Irina had considered being angry that Andrei would not be there, but then there was no point in it.

It was Vasilii who answered the door when Irina knocked.

“She will be out shortly,” he said. “Would you like a vodka?”

Irina shook her head.

“Are you sure?” he said. “You might want to dull the poor thing's senses before you scrape it out of you.”

Irina gave him a savage look. She could not remember ever having been alone with Vasilii. Now was the time to say something to him, to admonish and shame him. At least let him know that she knew about him, let him know that he wasn't getting away clean. She opened her mouth to start in on him but found that she hadn't any words. He had a vaguely benevolent, expectant look on his face. He was humoring her anger.

“They called you the butcher scribe,” she finally said, in a strangely matter-of-fact tone.

“They did,” he answered. “They called me the surgeon scribe at first, because of the precision of my cuts. When I heard the nickname, it made me laugh. I told them that they must not call me that, because a surgeon cuts people to heal them. That is not why I cut people. So I told them, Call me the butcher scribe if you must indulge in these sorts of schoolyard monikers.”

How could Irina possibly hope to rattle a man like that? He was as calm as a blanket of snow on a sleeping wasteland, after the storm had abated. What manner of monsters were hibernating in the frozen ground Irina could only imagine.

Elena emerged to greet her, in a drapey frock the same shade of pink as the one she had been married in. She was all wide eyes and delicate bones. When she saw her husband and her friend standing there together, she gave them both a tentative smile.

“Onwards, then,” Vasilii announced with equanimity, scooting the two girls out the door as if he were a father sending two children to the park to play to get them out of his hair.

It was a beautiful clear day with no distinct temperature. In the car, Elena did not have to turn on either the cooling or the warming system.

“I didn't know you could drive,” Irina commented, watching her friend as she pulled out of the driveway with what looked like a hint of trepidation.

“Vasilii taught me.”

“Oh? How was that?”

“He was nice. Fatherly and gentle.”

Was Elena being deeply, profoundly sarcastic? It was true that Irina had never heard the man raise his voice. Plus she had just seen that strange, calm fatherliness in him when he sent them out the door. That equanimity was what allowed him his casual brutality. His horrid gift was the ability to hold gentleness and murder so close together. Andrei at least kept the two extremes apart with a thick wall of irony.

“I don't have a license, of course,” Elena felt compelled to clarify.

“Elena,” Irina said sternly. “Elena, this is insane. You have to leave.”

“No.”

“You can't stay with a husband who cuts you up for fun. He's going to kill you.”

“No.”

What had she said no to the second time? Her not staying or him killing her?

“What is he writing on you anyway?”

Elena shook her head vehemently, trying her best to keep her moistening eyes on the midafternoon traffic. She was not going to talk about this—whatever this blood text on her body was.

“If it's because you don't have money, I have a little of my own that Andrei doesn't keep track of. I can give you enough for a plane ticket. Go home to your mother—please.”

“My mother would send me back.”

“Then—then go wherever the fuck! The Bahamas. The Maldives. Brazil. Wherever people like us go when they're trying to save themselves. Save yourself—please. For my sake if nothing else.”

Elena heaved a deep sigh. She quickly wiped at her cheek. Irina did not even see the stray tear. “It cannot be that easy,” Elena said.

“Look, it is! Just get out.”

“Vasilii would find me, and then he would kill me for certain. And then he would kill my whole family. Why do you think my mother would send me back here? Irina. Don't be so…”

Elena's admonition was left hanging there. Irina could not believe her friend was somehow in the thick of a situation that was even worse and more urgent than the one she was in, which would be resolved within the hour.

“So you're going to stay and take it when you really should leave,” Irina said angrily.

The two girls looked at each other. It was no use being mad at the one getting slashed up but Irina had to be mad at something. She hated the whole world that was doing this to them.

It was then that Elena said something that Irina should have paid attention to. She said, “Not yet.”

Irina did not answer, possibly did not even hear, because they had arrived in front of the clinic, a squat gray building that looked like a suburban middle school. Elena killed the engine. For a minute, neither of them moved, looking straight ahead through the windshield at the innocuous-looking place where they snuffed incipient lives in order to avoid ruining lives in progress. “How do you feel…about
it?
” Elena asked, motioning to her lower abdomen.

“I know it's stupid, but I wish that—I wish that I didn't have to.”

“Oh. I know.”

The sadness in the car was like a mist that was swallowing them both, making them shivery and foggy-eyed. What did Elena know? Had she done this before? As if to answer the unspoken query, Elena said, “Don't worry. It won't hurt too much. They are putting you out.”

After making this pronouncement, she unhooked her seat belt, letting it snake over her body and tautly put itself away. Irina undid hers also. “Elena,” she asked softly. “Did you…did you have this done?”

What she really wanted to ask was whether Elena had to have this done without being put out. Did she feel the scraping? Did she—did she see what it looked like, the tiny red thing they carved from the center of her?

Elena took Irina's hand. “You must give yourself all the time you need, to mourn,” she said gently. “Even if they tell you it was nothing, it was not a person, and that you are being a foolish girl. They do not know. Remember all you must, because if you try to forget it gets even worse.”

Irina didn't have to ask what that meant. She already knew that oftentimes buried things would not stay buried. They clawed their way back up from the ground to roar hidden crimes at the world and collapse lives. That was the truest form of justice: up from the inside. Not from the outside. The outside turned the same glazed, blind eye toward the innocent and the corrupt.

It would be chilly inside the clinic, from the unnecessary air-conditioning. Elena would have to go back out to the car to fetch Irina her sweater. Neither of them would have the heart to look over the old magazines in the waiting room. They would sit together in utter silence until Irina's name was called, and when the call came Elena would squeeze Irina's hand one last time. Then, in the operating room, there would be the moment when Irina would begin to count backward in a language she was supposed to have forgotten. But this moment was in the future. For now they were still in the car. For now, presumably, they could still turn back, even though they both knew they would not.

“What do they do with the little ones, after?” Elena asked.

Little ones
was a strange thing to call them, possibly even worse than calling them babies.

“I think they burn them,” Irina answered.

“Ah. Better than throwing them in the trash,” Elena said placidly, then: “Maybe we are breathing them in, right now.”

What a thought. A tiny holocaust of things that were not yet lives being exhaled into the very atmosphere.

And yet is all the particulate matter hanging in the air not made of the dead? Do we not take disintegrated leaves, decomposed corpses, torched palaces, forgotten dreams into our bodies with every breath?

That day was the last time Irina saw Elena. That day when they drove to the innocuous-looking clinic to cleanse Irina of new life. Of course, there was no doubt that this was the right decision. For Irina to bring a child into her situation would have been an act of suicide. She could not have chosen a man more wrong than Andrei to be her child's father. The very wrongness of him made her sure he was somehow fated. Why did she think like this? Surely reasonable people did not think like this. And she—she who was supposed to be so intelligent. At least, a variety of tests at school had told her so. But even she knew that
intelligent
and
reasonable
did not mean the same thing.
Intelligent
did not even mean
sane
.

Why are people so driven toward the chance to make new life when they will inevitably bungle it with the same stupidities that ruined their own lives? Every time it is the same walking disaster. The child will turn out a whore or a criminal just like the rest of them. There was Irina, for example. She had been given every advantage, been shoved into the mold of a young American with great potential, and look at what she had done to herself. She'd had about as much volition as a cat in heat yowling in a Dumpster for something she did not understand. A runaway cat that had refused its tamed half-life for wilderness and want.

A tamed half-life was for idiots was what Andrei believed. That idea still makes Irina smile. She has to let go of this idea that Andrei's depravity somehow made him more genuine than other men. But she didn't know how to let go of that idea. She didn't know how to let go of any of Andrei's ideas. Or his voice. Or his eyes. Or the scent of him. Or the freedom she thought he gave her, the freedom to gleefully sink into the darkness and not care about any debts. The freedom to live in the red and be comfortable there.

O
nce upon a time something happened. Had it not happened, it would not be told. There was once an emperor who had so much money that he did not know what to do with it. Still, he was unhappy, for he had no children. No one could lift his mood, not even his formerly spirited wife.

Why are you so glum? he asked her one day.

My dear husband, I would like to take the carriage and go out for a ride.

Wait, I'll do better. I will build a ship for you.

He ordered a beautiful ship to be built, the most beautiful ever beheld. It was easier to look into the sun without being blinded than to look at this ship. Once it was finished, the emperor told his wife she could leave, as the ship was ready. Then he said: If you don't come back pregnant, do not come back.

So the empress journeyed on the ship with her favorite lady-in-waiting for many days, sweeping silently through the fog without sighting land. Then one day, the sun burned off enough of the mist that the empress could see an enormous palace emerging from the oblivion of the sea. She decided she must visit this marvel and replenish her ship's waning supplies. She sent her servant to the gates of the palace to query who lived there. When the sentry answered that this was the dwelling of the Mother of God, the servant did not dare go in. The empress pushed her aside and went through the gates herself.

In the courtyard was a tall, slender apple tree burdened with golden fruit. The empress was seized with a sudden need to eat one. She said to her servant, If I don't have one of those apples, I will die.

The servant was reluctant, but seeing her mistress growing ashen and ill, she went in and stole an apple as quickly as she could. When the empress ate the apple, she was suddenly dizzy with happiness, laying her hand on her swollen belly as the knowledge washed over her that she was six months pregnant. Let's go home at once, she said to her lady-in-waiting, for now my desire has been fulfilled.

But the Mother of God noticed that the most beautiful apple on her tree was missing. Who has stolen it? she asked the impassive sky. Then she spoke a curse: If a girl is born from this apple, she will be as beautiful as the sun—it would be easier to look into the sun without being blinded than to gaze at her face. But in her seventeenth year, she shall become a cat. She and everyone in her palace, thus cursed until an emperor's son comes and cuts off her head. Only then will they all become human again.

When the empress arrived home pregnant, there was much rejoicing. When the time came, she gave birth to a perfect little girl who was much loved by all who knew her. But on the day she became seventeen years old, she suddenly turned into a small, fire-eyed cat, sitting primly in the lush wreck of her shed princess robes. Throughout the palace, all the clothes of her subjects collapsed softly to the ground, from them emerging many lissome cats of all different colors and stripes.

Now in a faraway country there was an emperor with three sons. He had begun to drink when his wife died. Since he wanted to get rid of the burden of his children, he called them to him and gave them these orders: Every one of you shall go on a quest and bring me back a tribute so that I may see who is the biggest hero. Whoever is capable of bringing me linen so thin that it can be blown through the eye of a needle shall inherit my throne.

After a great farewell feast, the three princes separated, promising to meet again in a year. Each chose the way he wanted to go. The eldest chose a way where he would suffer hunger but his horse would have food. The only thing he met to take back to his father was a handsome little dog. The second brother chose a way where he had something to eat but his horse had nothing. He found a little shred of coarse linen that one could yank through the wide eye of a very big needle with a great deal of force and determination. One truly had to pull very hard.

The youngest brother traveled through a dark forest, his way difficult because of a heavy, hissing downpour that made it impossible for him to see his way ahead. For three days and three nights, the unrelenting rain came in sheets, making him grow desperate. On the morning of the third day, in a flash of lightning he saw a great palace straight ahead. He resolved to go to it, as he saw no other destination. But the door was closed, and all around was a high wall reaching up to heaven.

I am dying from hunger, the prince uttered in his loneliness, but nobody heard him. Suddenly, he saw dangling over the door a gleaming piece of meat that looked mighty juicy. In his yearning to feel something solid in his mouth, he leapt for it and the meat stuck to his hand, pulling him up and raising him high. When the prince tried to free himself, he found that the meat was a hard substance, its gleam that of precious stones rather than juices. He yelped in distress; a bell rang and he was unceremoniously dropped. As he dusted himself off, the door was opened slowly by an unseen hand. Our hero shrugged and said, Might as well.

Looking around the dim hallways, he saw not a single human being but eventually came upon a room with a candle and a bed. He decided to rest, as he was so weary, but no sooner had he touched the bed than ten disembodied hands appeared and began to beat him and tear away at his clothes. In his despair, the prince said, Oh Mother of God, who is beating me like this?

The hands stopped, leaving him completely naked. In a flash, food appeared at a table along with rich, finely wrought clothes. He dressed himself and feasted, and woke up the next morning refreshed. He decided to go on to the next room, and again the hands beat him and stripped him and the prince was fed and then clothed again, just as before. On the third day, he woke up surrounded by a dozen gray male cats, who guided him to a great hall where everything was made of pure gold. He was given an outfit of pure gold to wear to match the throne of pure gold where he was directed to sit, while a hundred cats sang and played music.

Our hero was wondering who ruled such a strange realm when he discovered a beautiful little cat with fire-colored eyes, her fur white as snow, lying in a golden basket. The cat empress pleased him greatly and he her, so she got up from her basket and declared to her subjects that the young man was her new consort. All the cats greeted him as their master. The empress of the cats rubbed her back sweetly against his hand and lay languorously across his lap, and then asked him, looking up at him with her blazing gaze, My dear hero, why have you come here?

My dear cat, God leads people down different paths, and my father has sent me to find linen so thin that it can be blown through the eye of a needle, and I have come to find that.

Meanwhile, the prince's two elder brothers had gone home and delivered their gifts while our hero sojourned at the cat palace. The father was much pleased by the handsome little dog, less so by the scrap of coarse linen. When he asked his sons where their younger brother was, they had to tell him that they did not know. It was assumed that he was dead and there was a great deal of mourning in the empire.

After many days, the cat said to the prince, My dear, don't you want to go home? The year of your quest is over.

No, I don't wish to go home. I am happy here. I'll stay here until my end.

No, you may not, replied the cat. If you want to stay here, you must first go back to your home and deliver your father what you promised.

But how can I find such thin linen with such fine threads?

Oh, that can be done.

It is not possible, my dear cat, that an entire year has gone by since I've been here.

Yes, even more. Time is different here. Since you left where you came from, nine years have passed.

How can one year be nine years? And then how many more years will it take me to go back?

Give me that whip hanging on the wall, the cat said. She cracked the whip in three directions, summoning a lightning carriage. They got into the carriage, and the cat asked the prince, Now are you ready to go home?

Before he could nod, the cat cracked the whip once more. A great white flash blotted everything out for an instant, and as the rolling thunder receded, the prince saw that he had now arrived at home.

Take this nut with you, the cat said, but don't open it until your father asks you to give him the linen.

When the prince entered the palace, he found everyone quite terrified at the great crash of his carriage's arrival. Yet his father did not waste any time, immediately asking his son whether he had brought something, whether he had found the linen. The prince said, Yes, father. With these words, he broke the nut by striking it with his sword. In the nut he found a kernel of maize. He broke that open and found a kernel of wheat. Then he got angry and complained, The damn cat has cheated me! The devil with the cat!

No sooner had he uttered these words that invisible claws were dragged across his hands, streaking them in blood. He dashed the kernel of wheat with the heel of his boot, and found inside it the tiny seed of a bothersome weed that crawls over walking paths. He hit that seed as well, and out of it exploded one hundred yards of the finest, whitest linen anyone had ever seen. The prince's father, stunned and delighted, declared that he must take the crown, having found the most beautiful linen.

No, father, the prince replied, I am rich enough. I already have an empire where I live and will go back there.

You cannot go back there yet, the father said, for each of you, my three sons, must now quest forth to find a wife.

All right, said the brothers, and they went.

The youngest brother got into the lightning carriage where the cat waited, and they went back to her realm. When they arrived, the cat asked what he had done, and he told her everything that had happened, and then said that he did not know how to find a wife. The cat listened carefully but said not a word. They lived together for another month, until one day she asked him, Don't you want to go home?

Oh, I don't want to go home, answered the prince. I have no reason.

In time, the two of them began to be in love with each other, unable to bear any time apart. One day, our young hero asked the cat, Why are you a cat?

Don't ask me yet, she replied. Ask me some other time. I hate to live in the world. Let's go together to your father.

Again she summoned the lightning carriage and took the prince home. When his father saw them, he said, Have you no wife? Why are you not married? Where is your wife?

His son showed him the cat and said, Here she is. This cat here.

The cat sat in her golden basket.

What do you want with a cat? the father shouted. You can't even talk with her.

At this the cat became angry. She jumped out of the basket and then did a somersault, which changed her into a dazzlingly beautiful girl with fiery hair. Our young hero laughed and embraced her. His brothers were completely petrified, but his father was so delighted with the beauty of his consort that he said, Truly, you have the most beautiful wife. You must become my successor and have my entire empire.

No, father, that won't do. I already have an empire and a crown, so give yours to my eldest brother.

While he spoke, the girl did a somersault, became a cat again, and lay in her golden basket.

When our hero and his consort were back in their palace, he was angry with her for still being a cat. She said, My dear, I will explain to you later why I have to be a cat. There's a curse on me.

For a while they lived in their cat empire as before, until one day the cat sharpened three yataghans. When the prince came home from hunting, she made a great show of pretending to be sick, rolling around and yowling pitifully. The prince tried to calm her, petting her and asking, My dear, what's the matter with you?

I'm very sick, she cried. If you love me and want to do something good for me, then cut off my tail. It's too big and heavy. I can't carry it anymore.

No, I can't cut you! You mustn't die; I would rather die myself. Here, I have a cream. I will heal you with that.

Yet she still insisted that he cut off her tail, and she broke his will. He finally did it, closing his eyes when the blade severed her flesh. When he opened his eyes, he gasped, for the cat had transformed into a girl up to the hips, while remaining a cat in her upper half. He was delighted with this development, but the cat didn't stop. She continued: I hate life. I don't want to go on living. Please cut my head off, and take over my whole empire.

How can you ask me to cut your head off?

If you love me and want to do something good for me, then cut my head off.

Finally he couldn't resist, so he gripped one of the yataghans tight and swiftly decapitated her. In that moment, she became totally a stunningly beautiful girl, and all the cats who were in the palace became human beings and the whole empire was redeemed as she was and everybody was delighted, though they would have to learn all over again how to make and wear clothes.

The cat empress who was now a girl kissed the prince in great happiness and said, From now on you are my husband. I was cursed by the Mother of God until an emperor's son would cut off my head. Now let's go to your father, but beware, he is dangerous.

When they went back to the prince's father, the old emperor fell in love with his son's fire-haired wife. When our hero was off hunting, the old man went to the beautiful wife's chamber, but there was a cat in his path on the way there. When he tried to take his daughter-in-law in his arms and tell her she should love him, she struck him across the cheek and hissed, What do you want, you old horror?

When the husband returned from his hunt, she told him what his father had done. He decided to leave at once, to go home—but his father came to him and said, If you don't let me have your wife, I'll hang you.

You know my wife will never let me die, the son said.

The father ordered his guard to seize the young couple and throw them in a dungeon, but they made their escape in the lightning carriage, the son's parting words to his father being: You know, father, it will not be long before my wife shall punish you.