The Summer Garden (125 page)

Alexander carved the two birds. At the table, no one, not even the young ones, put food on their plate until Alexander helped himself to his first forkful of turkey. He poured Tatiana drink, he stood to make a toast, he even said Thanksgiving grace over their abundant table, looking at her. “
All that we have is a gift that comes from You.
”

And there was Washington, watching him, watching her.

The wives sat next to their husbands, all except Anthony’s wife, who wasn’t there. (“Where is Ingrid, Mom?” Jane had asked. “We don’t know and we don’t ask,” replied Tatiana. “You hear me? We
don’t
ask.” To which Janie, in her inimitable Dad-like style, said, “Good fucking riddance. I hope she never comes back. I’m sorry I ever introduced them. She’s been nothing but trouble. All she does is make his life harder.”) Kerri sat next to Jane, and Anthony sat between his daughters, who mothered him, ladled food onto him, cut his turkey and poured his drink. By deliberate and careful omission, no one mentioned the absent Ingrid. Anthony’s two sons—one chafing at being lumped with “the GD babies,” one disquietingly quiet—sat away from the adults and any possible questions about their missing mother.

Their plates scraped clean of food (oh, they learned, they all learned), the kids were done with dinner in twelve minutes, and a truculent Anthony Jr. was asked to watch Samson in the pool while the adults sat a little longer. He loudly protested. Harry said not to worry, Anthony said, no, he
will
do it. Tommy pulled at his brother, saying I’ll help you. Anthony Jr. said he didn’t want to leave the table yet like he was a child, and Anthony said he wasn’t being given a choice, to which Anthony Jr. got up with a snark, to which Anthony got up with a clench, which prompted Tatiana to jump up before Alexander got up and things got really out of hand. “Anthony Jr.” That’s all Tatiana said, and the boy fled from the table. Anthony sat back down; everything calmed down. The adults sat another hour. Never mind, said Harry. It’s that age. Ask Dad what you were like when you were fourteen. A small glance passed between Alexander and Anthony. Alexander said, “He was always a good kid. But besides, headbutting was not allowed.”

“It’s not allowed with me either,” said Anthony. “There’s still headbutting.”

To change the subject, Washington said that at fourteen he used to give his own mother a hard time when his dad was not around—which was most of the time.

To change the subject
much
further—because Anthony himself was not around most of the time—Janie asked Tatiana how long she should nurse the baby. The men at the table—particularly the three grown, mature men once nursed by Tatiana—groaned.

To expand on the favorably changed subject, Mary asked Tatiana if she had any complications having Janie at thirty-nine. Anthony wanted to know if it was
possible
for women, even
doctors
, to talk about things other than breasts and childbirth at the Thanksgiving table. Yes, let’s talk about quench guns instead, said Harry. No, Tatiana replied to Mary, no complications—and then stared at Pasha until he rolled his eyes, turned to Mary, and said, “What did I tell you earlier? You don’t listen, do you?” They were forced to tell everyone they were expecting a baby. The family was surprised and pleased. Alexander opened another bottle of Napa wine.

Washington was completely tongue-tied. (Perhaps it was the tongue piercing, Tatiana thought.) He could do no better than answer the family’s questions in monosyllables. Even shiny-eyed Rebecca became frustrated. They left him alone and asked questions of Kerri instead, who was a much better public speaker, was soft-spoken, laughed easily and was pleasant to look at.

After a protracted throat clearing, Washington did finally speak. “Mrs. Barrington—”

“Please. Call me Tatiana.”

An impossibility. Washington didn’t call her anything when he continued, “Rebecca, um, told me you both, you two, you and your husband, um, were from Russia. Have you, um, gone back since—all the, you know, changes there?”

Tatiana told Washington that for their fiftieth wedding anniversary gift seven years ago, the children did pitch in and buy them two white night weeks in St. Petersburg, but they ended up not going.

“You didn’t, um, want to go?” asked Washington.

Tatiana didn’t know what to say.
Eto bylo, bylo i proshlo/vse proshlo/i viugoy zamelo…

It was Alexander who answered Washington. “We almost went,” he said, “but we’d already been to Leningrad, you see, and we heard about this place, right in the United States, that also had protracted nights and shining lights—but also rivers that ran through hotels, and circuses and jumping tigers, and indoor rollercoasters, and—what else, Tania?”

“I don’t know. Free drinks? Indoor smoking? Cheap food? Interesting things on television?”

“Yes, and poker.” Alexander smiled at his kids. “The thought of their mother in that cauldron of decadence was a shock to our grown children, but we thought we’d try it once, just for a lark, so we exchanged Leningrad for two weeks at the MGM-Grand.” And then he smiled at Tatiana. “Tania didn’t do too bad, did you? Beginner’s luck, they say.”

Tatiana assented. “Las Vegas is a fascinating place,” she said casually. “We’re thinking of taking a little trip back.” She glanced at Alexander. So what if they take that little trip once a month? Las Vegas makes her smile and forget the remorse and the impossibility of seeing with old weakened eyes the streets of their once life that have become diminished by time, but which their old weakened hearts still see undiminished. All they have to do is close their eyes. For it is Leningrad, the death of everything, that was also the birth of everything: every ocotillo and wolfberry they plant today was borne out of the bombed-out sunlit streets of the city yesterday that the soul can’t bury, can’t hide, can’t drive away.

Washington whistled. “You know, I’ve never met anyone who’s been, um, you know, married fifty-seven years,” he said. “I’m quite…impressed. My mother has been married for twenty-five years.” He paused. “But to three different husbands, with several boyfriends and some breaks in between.”

“I told Washington, Grammy,” Rebecca said with a giggle, “that it was love at first sight with you two, and he said he didn’t believe it because he doesn’t believe in love in first sight.”

“I didn’t say that,” said Washington. “I think it’s something at first sight, just not necessarily love—” And broke off suddenly, turning deep red. The table went quiet. The grown children glanced at their parents uncomfortably; Tatiana and Alexander glanced at each other with amusement; Anthony glared at Rebecca who glared at Washington.

Tommy came back and asked Washington if he wanted to go—and Washington jumped up and flew out—“…swimming,” finished Tommy.

Rebecca apologized and said she didn’t know what was wrong with him. “He is so twitchy tonight. He is usually very sweet.”

Alexander coughed fakely. Under the table Tatiana kicked him. To her daughter, she said, “Janie, your friend Kerri must know quite a bit about us because she’s not asking us any of the usual questions.” Where did you meet? How did you escape? What happened in Vietnam? And she didn’t peer into their faces as though looking for traces of things that could not be politely asked for, which is what Washington had been doing all day. Kerri didn’t do any of that.

Kerri, rosy and pretty, blushed and chuckled. “Both Jane and Vicky have told me a bit,” she admitted. “The lore
is
quite intimidating. I mean, I’m just a schoolteacher. I know Little League dads and librarians.”

“Little League dads can be very intimidating,” said Tatiana. “You’ve never met our friend, Sam Gulotta.”

“How is he feeling? Perhaps, he’ll fly up for Christmas?” asked Jane. “Kerri can meet him then.”

“I don’t know generals, or presidential advisors, or POWs,” Kerri continued, clearing her throat, looking slightly faint of heart. “But for what it’s worth,” she said, “not being a Harvard alum and all, I’m not a cynic yet. I believe in love at first sight.”

This made everyone fall in a pause, but not for long because Jane exclaimed happily, “And Kerri plays a
fantastic
guitar!”

Even Anthony laughed. “Does she indeed?” he said, with great amusement staring at a befuddled and embarrassed Kerri.

Rachel and Rebecca studied Kerri. “Does she indeed?” they said.

Before Anthony’s open smile was analyzed further—or God forbid returned—by Kerri, Tatiana stood from the table signaling the end of dinner, and to her daughter whispered, “Child, you have absolutely
no
shame.”

“That’s right, Holy Mother,” said Janie. “None whatsoever.”

The men were dispatched to play pool, or poker, or watch TV, and Rachel and Rebecca, reluctantly trying to be adults, went into the kitchen with the women to clean up. Tatiana wasn’t cleaning. No one would let her lift even her own plate. They sat her down, gave her a cup of tea, and she directed the Tupperware and the plastic wrap over the leftovers. The kids were all wildly in the pool, all except for Samson, who was in the kitchen climbing wet into Amy’s arms, and for Washington—who was now dressed and sitting damply at the table next to Tatiana.

Rebecca, already bored with cleaning up after five minutes, threw herself over the table and said, “Grammy, Washington really likes your photographs.”

Washington, who was sitting two feet away from Tatiana, said nothing.

“Well,” said Tatiana, “tell Washington thank you.”

“He is very observant, and he pointed out you had all kinds of photos but no wedding ones of you and Grandpa. He wanted to know why that was.”

“Washington wanted to know this, did he?” Tatiana said, her bemused eyes on Washington. “Has Washington been to every wall in my house? And if so, ask him what he was doing in my bedroom.”

Washington, as red as the spring barrel cactus, stuttered and said, “No—that’s right—perhaps—I’m just saying—yes, perhaps there.”

“They’re not there either,” said Rebecca. “I know. I told him it was because the camera technology didn’t come to Russia in the eighteenth century when you got married.”

“You know so much,” said Tatiana.

“But do you know what
he
told me?” With a big mischievous smile, Rebecca lowered her voice. “He thinks it’s because you and Grandpa never actually got married.”

“He thinks this, does he?”

“Isn’t that simply
delicious
?” Rebecca exclaimed.

“Becky,” said Washington, “do you always have to tell everybody absolutely everything you’re thinking?”

“Yes!” said Rebecca.

“So let me understand,” said Tatiana, “not only does Washington think my husband didn’t love me when he met me, but that he also didn’t marry me. Is that right?”

“That’s right!” Rebecca said joyously. “Well, why should he have married you? He didn’t love you!” She pinched Tatiana, poked her, tickled her. “Come on, Grammy, save your family’s honor. Prove to Washington Grandpa loved you
and
married you.
Or
give us something to really gossip about.”

“Yes,” said Tatiana, “because usually you have absolutely nothing to say.” She was infinitely amused by the delectable Rebecca.

Alexander and Anthony walked into the kitchen, smelling of cigarette smoke. “Mayday, Mayday!” Jane said. “Men in the kitchen during clean-up.”

“I just wanted to make sure you haven’t moved from the table,” Alexander said to Tatiana, patting her shoulder as he walked past. “I know you.” He picked up Jane’s sleeping baby from the infant seat and sat next to her.

Rachel turned to Anthony. “Daddy, did you hear? Beck’s new boyfriend thinks you were an illegitimate child.”

“Oh, isn’t he a prize,” said Anthony.

Alexander twinkled at Tatiana, and everybody hooted it up, except for Washington, who now looked mortified
and
terrified, sinking into the chair.

Rachel and Rebecca were egging Tatiana on. Amy, Mary, and Jane were cleaning up and egging Tatiana on. Kerri was helping get the dessert out and saying nothing.

Alexander said lightly, “Anthony, go restore your mother’s good name. Go get the pictures for the girls if you want.” He glanced at Tatiana. “What? Do you want them all to think I didn’t make an honest woman out of you?”

Rachel and Rebecca yelped with excitement. “I can’t believe it, we’re going to see your wedding photos!” squealed Rachel. “I take everything back, Becks. Washington
is
brilliant. It’s all because of him and his insinuating provocations. No one has
ever
seen the wedding photos. We didn’t even know for sure they existed!”

Now the infant was awake, and crying.

“I just want you to know, Grammy,” Rebecca said mock-solemnly, “I defended you; I told Washington you and Grandpa had a crazy love once. Isn’t that right?”

“If you say so, dear.”

Rebecca threw her arms around Alexander. “Grandpa, tell me, isn’t that right?”

“What are you, writing a book?”

“Yes!” She laughed. “Yes, I am. A book about you and Grammy for my senior thesis.” She smothered Alexander’s head. “I’m going to fill it up with things you think we’re too young to know,” she whispered, then smothering Tatiana, practically sitting on her lap. “If you’re very good, Grammy,” she murmured affectionately, kissing Tatiana’s face, “and show this aspiring novelist the nice wedding photo to fire up my fervid imagination, I’m going to tell you what Washington really said about you and Grandpa, and he is going to help me write my book of love.”

“A book of love?” said Tatiana. “Well, I for one, can’t
wait
.”

After loud overtures from his daughters, Anthony finally left the house and went up the winding path to the “museum,” to the mobile home where he and his parents had lived from 1949 to 1958.

It has been left untouched. The furniture, tables, the paint on the walls, the ’50s cabinets, the dressers, the closets, are all unchanged, remaining as they once were.

And in her closet in the bedroom, past the nurse’s uniform, far away in the right-hand corner on the top shelf, lies the black backpack that contains Tatiana’s soul.