GLoom
12-20-2008, 02:40 PM
Mashka
Mashka – Maria, Masha
Remember, brother, how we’d dream? When lying in wet grass or frying in midday sun? When celebrating a victory or closing eyelids of our dead friends? Remember? We all wanted some bright future, tender wives and happy children. Peace and joy. And we were all sure that we’re going to be happy. Just finish with this war and start living differently - because we became different. The war’s changed us. We got a life older and a death wiser. Remember, brother? I do too…
You remember one of us said that it’d be very interesting to meet in ten or twenty years and to have a look at each other? To see who became what and what’s happened in each one’s life? Remember? Then you probably remember the feeling you had when you’ve met with a friend… You wanted to see him very much but were very scared of this meeting. Or ashamed? This can’t be explained. War brought this.
An accidental meeting is a different story. It sets everything right. No one is hiding their feelings then. There is no time, and no desire to hide them. You remember these tears? I do too. These do not dry out without a trace.
It was a regular standard mopping-up operation. Well, maybe not that standard, but a regular one for sure. Morning, the fog is like a wall, although it’s getting a yellowish hue – another 30-40 minutes and it will be light. The Tatar is quietly watching the village. Or, rather, listening, for you could just hardly see your hand in this milk. Sometimes he even inhales deeply – trying to smell the air. Finally he withdraws from the hill slightly, looks at Oleg and me thoughtfully and says:
-So, shall we go?
We nod. The Tatar clicks the safety, Oleg and I issue some orders. Bushes around us start moving and changing. We see shapes in the fog, weapons make loading sounds, and some words are whispered. The platoon moves in the direction of the village. I follow the street with the engineers. Oleg is moving in from the left of the village. The Tatar follows us and checks the houses while providing flank cover for Oleg and rear cover for me. That’s it, the attention is at its peak. My hearing has sharpened, hands are grasping the rifle tightly, legs are half-bent – I’m ready. Ready to not die…
Bang, bang, bang. BANG!
A few shots, a grenade goes off. Then, silence. I see, Oleg has hedged his bets and swept the house without entering it. Ok, we go on. I check the sky – the fog is tearing apart, ten, fifteen minutes and I will be able to see the sky. And we’ll be seen too… I order dissipation, let us stick to the house walls – it’s safer, moreover since we’re over a third of the way into the village. Stop. The engineers made a sign. It’s nothing; they’re over-careful, just found an empty clip in the mud. It’s good. My back is wet with sweat. The Tatar catches up, waves his hands, go, go, go. I am going. Stop. There is a sound from the house to the right. I show direction to The Tatar. He and one of his guys dive into a hole in the fence. We stop. Everyone is quiet. Silence… Silence costs a lot at war and is sometimes very deceiving. Time turns into rubber - hot and sweaty rubber.
Sometimes it seems that it’s not me going by the shelves at the store, but the shelves are passing me by. As if showing me all their wares, all these bright fancy packages, intriguing and tasty names. I put stuff in the cart unhurriedly, noting names, prices and quantities. So that my wants do not exceed my capabilities. I check my pockets to make sure the wallet is there – everything is safe and sound. Ok, only bread and cigarettes left to get. I look at the shelf with the salads – I am getting hungry. Should I get a couple of these..? I raise my eyes and look at the salesgirl. She’s a new one, never seen her before, looking a little oriental. She is with her side to me, playing with her mobile phone. Her hand touches the hair over her left ear and I see… It’s as if a professional boxer hits me in the chest, right where the heart is. My pulse doubles, blood rushes to my face and head. I am trying to get a hold of myself, notice my reflection in some mirror. Could it be a mistake? Let’s think and see. The girl is around twenty five, check. Left ear, check. Well, it could be her. The girl arranges her hair again trying to hide the deformed ear. She succeeds and looks at me:
- Could I get you anything?
I stare at her, saying nothing. I am trying to say something but I can’t. Tears are coming up... My God, she is alive. How good can it get? Still, can it be that it’s not her..?
The Tatar is back. Someone raises a gun and puts it down immediately. Soldiers are alert, looking around, covering their officer. Out of breath, he crouches next to me, wipes his brow.
- The house is clear; you, umm…
The Tatar is rarely at a loss for words – something must’ve happened after all.
- ...you take Victor and an engineer. Behind the right corner there is a shed wall and some cut twigs, check underneath. I’ll finish here.
- Yes, will do.
I signal to Victor the medic, point at an engineer and approach the house. Suddenly I turn and catch The Tatar’s eye – he is watching me sadly. My chest tightens… What is there? I am hugging the wall, my eyes dart to the sides looking for danger. I hear Victor’s breathing and tramping of engineer’s feet behind. I order him to move quieter but it doesn’t help much. Here, the shed wall, other three walls are missing. Some twigs are put at an angle to the wall making a kind of a hut. There is a pair of legs under the twigs. Woman’s legs, and a corner of a black coat. Yes, I see. I signal Victor to wait and watch and call the engineer. I point at the legs, he understands, goes to the hut and bends over. I turn around and cover the flank. A minute passes, two… I hear some weak squeak and what sounds like a sob. I drop down and turn around – no, everything is ok, the engineer is alive but on his knees with his helmet in his lap. And it looks like he is weeping… I get up and come closer. I have never seen anything like that. And I don’t want to see it ever again!
- So, what is it you wanted?
I must be looking very silly for the girl is smiling.
- Me? Yes, I want... A salad, this one... Two, actually.
- This one?
- No, the one next to it...
The girl opens the counter and gets the salads.
- Excuse me, please...
The words dry up in my mouth; it is difficult to talk, especially when you don’t know what to say. The girl is not angry though, she smiles at me, not trying to withdraw from the conversation.
- Yes, would you like anything else?
I see a thin grey string on her neck and I know what to ask immediately.
- I know this is a very personal question, but could you tell me what you have on that string on your neck?
The girl covers her neck with a hand and her eyes become scared and a little aggressive. I curse myself. She looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for an explanation.
An old woman, dead. I call Victor to come closer and nod at the body. Victor checks it.
- Dead, at least 24 hours, if not more.
- Vic, what about the girl?
My voice is trembling a little – the dead woman is holding a body of a little girl. A wrinkled hand holds a girl’s head tight, two fingers pressed tightly to the left ear. A girl’s face is white like snow, eyes closed.
- She seems alive...
Quickly but carefully Victor releases the skinny little body from the dead woman’s hold. Tears open the sweater on the girl’s chest, puts his ear next to it then checks for the pulse.
- Alive!
- Vic, you give her first aid and take her with you. You, - I point to the engineer, - cover up the old woman so that animals don’t get to the body.
The engineer nods. Victor slowly gives a girl some injection with a big syringe. I carefully inspect the house from the outside.
- Listen, Vic, this is a Russian house.
Victor puts the used syringe back in the bag.
- How do you know?
- It is damaged much more than other houses. And two more people were killed here.
I point at the freshly dug earth nearby.
- Why two?
- The house is well taken care of - there was a man living here for sure. And the girl had a mother, so most probably it’s her mother and father lying here. And probably it’s because they were Russians…
I spat.
- I wish I never listened to you, Gloom!
Victor takes the girl in his arms and runs to the street.
- I am sorry...
I turn around absently. Should I go or should I ask her..? I’ll ask, got nothing to lose.
- Excuse me, what is your name?
- I do not meet with men when I am at work!
Her eyes have a hint of aggression. Damn, I’m doing something wrong again...
- I am sorry then...
I turn around and start moving away.
The team stopped in the woods. The Tatar has reported to the HQ and the troops are resting. No one has disturbed Vic who is happy as a child every time the girl’s condition changes even slightly. After she opened her eyes he came running to me...
- She’s Russian! You hear, Russian!
I was dozing and didn’t quite get it the first time.
- What are you shouting about? What did you say?
- Russian!
- How do you know?
- Her eyes are gray… Green.
Vic was happy. He laughed and ran away. I smoked a cigarette and drowsed off again.
When I woke up… When I woke up, the girl was sitting next to me, slowly sipping tea Vic was offering her. But now he was not laughing. He looked like weeping. I nodded at him questioningly.
- Her name is Masha. She is ten. Her grandmother’s name was Nastya and also she is asking where her mother and father are...
Vic made a sound.
- You answer that, Gloom, if you can...
I reached out a hand and smiled at the girl. She looked at my face observantly and smiled back. I took her in my arms and adjusted the bandage on her ear then patted her head.
- It’s going to be ok, Mashka, everything is going to be great. It simply can’t be bad now...
She nodded an understanding. Vic gave another sob. I pinched my arm strongly and took a deep breath...
- Belay these tears! You and you too…
I flicked her nose lightly and she smiled with bloodless lips. Vic groaned…
- Get out of here, doc.
- So what did you want to get?
I turned around.
- A salad...
The girl was staring at my face attentively and uneasily. Her eyes were studying me and it seemed as if she was deciding something...
- A salad? Which one?
She was looking at me… And I was staring back.
- Any one...
I stepped forward. She touched her ear...
- So, what is it you have on your neck, it’s important that I know.
- It’s a pendant cross, a simple one. Someone gave…
She stopped and covered her mouth with a hand. Her eyes locked with mine.
We’ve passed Mashka to the cops. Said we found her in the woods. I took her to them; she was weak and could hardly walk. I put her in front of me and looked her in the eyes, making farewells.
- Everything will be great with you. You will move to a big city, will grow up and become a beauty. You will study and everything will be perfect, Mashka!
The girl was nodding. I took a cross from my pocket, a lost friend’s cross. I looked at it then kissed it. Pulled a thread out of the beret, folded it and tied the cross at the girl’s neck.
- Don’t take it off, Mashka… Ever! It will bring you luck. Someday… For sure.
I got up, turned abruptly and went away.
- Someone gave it to me as a present...
- And told you to never take it off?
The girl gave a sob.
- Aha...
- Told you that someday it will bring you luck?
- Aha...
- So, did it, Mashka?
- Yes...
- To me too...
Occasional shoppers didn’t pay any attention to a salesgirl and a man, who stood there embraced and wept.
Mashka – Maria, Masha
Remember, brother, how we’d dream? When lying in wet grass or frying in midday sun? When celebrating a victory or closing eyelids of our dead friends? Remember? We all wanted some bright future, tender wives and happy children. Peace and joy. And we were all sure that we’re going to be happy. Just finish with this war and start living differently - because we became different. The war’s changed us. We got a life older and a death wiser. Remember, brother? I do too…
You remember one of us said that it’d be very interesting to meet in ten or twenty years and to have a look at each other? To see who became what and what’s happened in each one’s life? Remember? Then you probably remember the feeling you had when you’ve met with a friend… You wanted to see him very much but were very scared of this meeting. Or ashamed? This can’t be explained. War brought this.
An accidental meeting is a different story. It sets everything right. No one is hiding their feelings then. There is no time, and no desire to hide them. You remember these tears? I do too. These do not dry out without a trace.
It was a regular standard mopping-up operation. Well, maybe not that standard, but a regular one for sure. Morning, the fog is like a wall, although it’s getting a yellowish hue – another 30-40 minutes and it will be light. The Tatar is quietly watching the village. Or, rather, listening, for you could just hardly see your hand in this milk. Sometimes he even inhales deeply – trying to smell the air. Finally he withdraws from the hill slightly, looks at Oleg and me thoughtfully and says:
-So, shall we go?
We nod. The Tatar clicks the safety, Oleg and I issue some orders. Bushes around us start moving and changing. We see shapes in the fog, weapons make loading sounds, and some words are whispered. The platoon moves in the direction of the village. I follow the street with the engineers. Oleg is moving in from the left of the village. The Tatar follows us and checks the houses while providing flank cover for Oleg and rear cover for me. That’s it, the attention is at its peak. My hearing has sharpened, hands are grasping the rifle tightly, legs are half-bent – I’m ready. Ready to not die…
Bang, bang, bang. BANG!
A few shots, a grenade goes off. Then, silence. I see, Oleg has hedged his bets and swept the house without entering it. Ok, we go on. I check the sky – the fog is tearing apart, ten, fifteen minutes and I will be able to see the sky. And we’ll be seen too… I order dissipation, let us stick to the house walls – it’s safer, moreover since we’re over a third of the way into the village. Stop. The engineers made a sign. It’s nothing; they’re over-careful, just found an empty clip in the mud. It’s good. My back is wet with sweat. The Tatar catches up, waves his hands, go, go, go. I am going. Stop. There is a sound from the house to the right. I show direction to The Tatar. He and one of his guys dive into a hole in the fence. We stop. Everyone is quiet. Silence… Silence costs a lot at war and is sometimes very deceiving. Time turns into rubber - hot and sweaty rubber.
Sometimes it seems that it’s not me going by the shelves at the store, but the shelves are passing me by. As if showing me all their wares, all these bright fancy packages, intriguing and tasty names. I put stuff in the cart unhurriedly, noting names, prices and quantities. So that my wants do not exceed my capabilities. I check my pockets to make sure the wallet is there – everything is safe and sound. Ok, only bread and cigarettes left to get. I look at the shelf with the salads – I am getting hungry. Should I get a couple of these..? I raise my eyes and look at the salesgirl. She’s a new one, never seen her before, looking a little oriental. She is with her side to me, playing with her mobile phone. Her hand touches the hair over her left ear and I see… It’s as if a professional boxer hits me in the chest, right where the heart is. My pulse doubles, blood rushes to my face and head. I am trying to get a hold of myself, notice my reflection in some mirror. Could it be a mistake? Let’s think and see. The girl is around twenty five, check. Left ear, check. Well, it could be her. The girl arranges her hair again trying to hide the deformed ear. She succeeds and looks at me:
- Could I get you anything?
I stare at her, saying nothing. I am trying to say something but I can’t. Tears are coming up... My God, she is alive. How good can it get? Still, can it be that it’s not her..?
The Tatar is back. Someone raises a gun and puts it down immediately. Soldiers are alert, looking around, covering their officer. Out of breath, he crouches next to me, wipes his brow.
- The house is clear; you, umm…
The Tatar is rarely at a loss for words – something must’ve happened after all.
- ...you take Victor and an engineer. Behind the right corner there is a shed wall and some cut twigs, check underneath. I’ll finish here.
- Yes, will do.
I signal to Victor the medic, point at an engineer and approach the house. Suddenly I turn and catch The Tatar’s eye – he is watching me sadly. My chest tightens… What is there? I am hugging the wall, my eyes dart to the sides looking for danger. I hear Victor’s breathing and tramping of engineer’s feet behind. I order him to move quieter but it doesn’t help much. Here, the shed wall, other three walls are missing. Some twigs are put at an angle to the wall making a kind of a hut. There is a pair of legs under the twigs. Woman’s legs, and a corner of a black coat. Yes, I see. I signal Victor to wait and watch and call the engineer. I point at the legs, he understands, goes to the hut and bends over. I turn around and cover the flank. A minute passes, two… I hear some weak squeak and what sounds like a sob. I drop down and turn around – no, everything is ok, the engineer is alive but on his knees with his helmet in his lap. And it looks like he is weeping… I get up and come closer. I have never seen anything like that. And I don’t want to see it ever again!
- So, what is it you wanted?
I must be looking very silly for the girl is smiling.
- Me? Yes, I want... A salad, this one... Two, actually.
- This one?
- No, the one next to it...
The girl opens the counter and gets the salads.
- Excuse me, please...
The words dry up in my mouth; it is difficult to talk, especially when you don’t know what to say. The girl is not angry though, she smiles at me, not trying to withdraw from the conversation.
- Yes, would you like anything else?
I see a thin grey string on her neck and I know what to ask immediately.
- I know this is a very personal question, but could you tell me what you have on that string on your neck?
The girl covers her neck with a hand and her eyes become scared and a little aggressive. I curse myself. She looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for an explanation.
An old woman, dead. I call Victor to come closer and nod at the body. Victor checks it.
- Dead, at least 24 hours, if not more.
- Vic, what about the girl?
My voice is trembling a little – the dead woman is holding a body of a little girl. A wrinkled hand holds a girl’s head tight, two fingers pressed tightly to the left ear. A girl’s face is white like snow, eyes closed.
- She seems alive...
Quickly but carefully Victor releases the skinny little body from the dead woman’s hold. Tears open the sweater on the girl’s chest, puts his ear next to it then checks for the pulse.
- Alive!
- Vic, you give her first aid and take her with you. You, - I point to the engineer, - cover up the old woman so that animals don’t get to the body.
The engineer nods. Victor slowly gives a girl some injection with a big syringe. I carefully inspect the house from the outside.
- Listen, Vic, this is a Russian house.
Victor puts the used syringe back in the bag.
- How do you know?
- It is damaged much more than other houses. And two more people were killed here.
I point at the freshly dug earth nearby.
- Why two?
- The house is well taken care of - there was a man living here for sure. And the girl had a mother, so most probably it’s her mother and father lying here. And probably it’s because they were Russians…
I spat.
- I wish I never listened to you, Gloom!
Victor takes the girl in his arms and runs to the street.
- I am sorry...
I turn around absently. Should I go or should I ask her..? I’ll ask, got nothing to lose.
- Excuse me, what is your name?
- I do not meet with men when I am at work!
Her eyes have a hint of aggression. Damn, I’m doing something wrong again...
- I am sorry then...
I turn around and start moving away.
The team stopped in the woods. The Tatar has reported to the HQ and the troops are resting. No one has disturbed Vic who is happy as a child every time the girl’s condition changes even slightly. After she opened her eyes he came running to me...
- She’s Russian! You hear, Russian!
I was dozing and didn’t quite get it the first time.
- What are you shouting about? What did you say?
- Russian!
- How do you know?
- Her eyes are gray… Green.
Vic was happy. He laughed and ran away. I smoked a cigarette and drowsed off again.
When I woke up… When I woke up, the girl was sitting next to me, slowly sipping tea Vic was offering her. But now he was not laughing. He looked like weeping. I nodded at him questioningly.
- Her name is Masha. She is ten. Her grandmother’s name was Nastya and also she is asking where her mother and father are...
Vic made a sound.
- You answer that, Gloom, if you can...
I reached out a hand and smiled at the girl. She looked at my face observantly and smiled back. I took her in my arms and adjusted the bandage on her ear then patted her head.
- It’s going to be ok, Mashka, everything is going to be great. It simply can’t be bad now...
She nodded an understanding. Vic gave another sob. I pinched my arm strongly and took a deep breath...
- Belay these tears! You and you too…
I flicked her nose lightly and she smiled with bloodless lips. Vic groaned…
- Get out of here, doc.
- So what did you want to get?
I turned around.
- A salad...
The girl was staring at my face attentively and uneasily. Her eyes were studying me and it seemed as if she was deciding something...
- A salad? Which one?
She was looking at me… And I was staring back.
- Any one...
I stepped forward. She touched her ear...
- So, what is it you have on your neck, it’s important that I know.
- It’s a pendant cross, a simple one. Someone gave…
She stopped and covered her mouth with a hand. Her eyes locked with mine.
We’ve passed Mashka to the cops. Said we found her in the woods. I took her to them; she was weak and could hardly walk. I put her in front of me and looked her in the eyes, making farewells.
- Everything will be great with you. You will move to a big city, will grow up and become a beauty. You will study and everything will be perfect, Mashka!
The girl was nodding. I took a cross from my pocket, a lost friend’s cross. I looked at it then kissed it. Pulled a thread out of the beret, folded it and tied the cross at the girl’s neck.
- Don’t take it off, Mashka… Ever! It will bring you luck. Someday… For sure.
I got up, turned abruptly and went away.
- Someone gave it to me as a present...
- And told you to never take it off?
The girl gave a sob.
- Aha...
- Told you that someday it will bring you luck?
- Aha...
- So, did it, Mashka?
- Yes...
- To me too...
Occasional shoppers didn’t pay any attention to a salesgirl and a man, who stood there embraced and wept.