The Silence of Trees (28 page)

I told him that we had never heard from you and assumed that you had died during the war. Stephan refused to believe that you perished while he had survived. He told us how you and he fled to Slovakia, how he was taken, had escaped, and was recaptured. He said thoughts of you were what had kept him alive during the war and in prison. He was praying that you had returned home. He had nowhere to stay, having lost his entire family in the war, so Sonya’s mother took him in until he could find work and a place to live. You see, Sonya married a Russian soldier and had moved with him to St. Petersburg, so it was only the two of us in her home.

Stephan stayed with us and together we mourned for you, for our families, for everything we had lost. We were two orphans who had turned to each other for support and comfort. We became friends, and after a year we decided to marry.

I gave birth to one child, our son Mykola, named after Dido. He was our future: so good, so handsome. But he died in military service during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan.

When Sonny came, Stefko and I were surprised to hear that you had survived the war and made it to the DP camps in Germany. Of course, we had no way of knowing if you were still alive. Sonny left the village and promised to contact us if he found you. He said he had one more person to find: a Ukrainian named Andriy Polotsky who had been in the Soviet army during the war. He told us that Andriy was quite famous in the United States. Sonny thought that you two may have stayed in contact, since you were such good friends with Andriy’s mother.

Two months later, we received a letter with your name and address inside. As it turned out, Sonny found Andriy, who had your address. I wrote to you that same day and Stefko even attached a short note.

Sadly, there is no note from Stephan this time. He died in his sleep last month. Sonya’s mama passed away long ago, and Sonya herself died last year. Now you are all I have left. So once again I write, hoping to reach you.

If this letter should find you before Christmas, I pray your holidays are blessed with happiness, as I eagerly wait with hope to hear from you soon.

With love,

Your sister Halya"

My sister was alive? Stephan died a month ago? My heart was beating quickly. Stephan had attached a note. I could have had a note from Stephan after all these years. My sister and Stephan? But I never returned home. It was my fault. I left him for dead. They found each other. He was looking for me. My Stephan, not hers. Mine. Sonny found her? Him? Me? Andriy found me? I never found anyone. Maybe if I’d gone back? My littlest sister with her thin braids and bad dreams. I wasn’t there to protect her, to protect them. To warn them: Mama, Tato, Laryssa. I wasn’t there. I left them. Her handwriting was neat, careful. It was a woman’s writing, not a little girl’s. Not my little Halya. Stephan came back. He took care of her. She took care of him. They had no one else. They should have had me. Me. It should have been my life. It could have been my life. Siberia? He was in prison in Siberia? I was in America, eating instant noodle soup and soft white bread, while he was in Siberia. My poor Stephan. But he wasn’t mine. He was hers. He came back. But he found Halya. My littlest sister was alive? And she was alone now. Like me.

I didn’t know what to do next. Who could I tell? What would I say? I wanted to tell Pavlo, but he was gone. Like Stephan. I had lost them both. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to clean the house with the fervor of a madwoman. I hadn’t really given it a thorough cleaning in over a year, and I needed to work with my hands to avoid thinking.

I changed into old clothes, pulled up my hair, and put on some loud Ukrainian folk music. Then I began in the kitchen and cleaned everything in sight, determined to scour the smell of death and sadness from everything in my home. I cleaned out cabinets, dusted china and knickknacks, emptied out the icebox, washed the floor on my hands and knees, scrubbed the toilet, vacuumed, and washed mirrors and windows. I worked from morning until night, stopping only to drink some tea.

I left my bedroom for last. I had already gone through Pavlo’s drawers and closet, so there wasn’t much to do except strip the sheets, flip the mattress, and change the bedding. Time to put away the light summer quilt and replace it with the warm down blanket for the coming winter.

When I pulled up the mattress, I found a squished pack of cigarettes with only two remaining, and an envelope addressed "To Nadya."

It was not sealed. I thought it was from Pavlo, a note he had written but never had the nerve to give me. I sat on the bed to read it.

"Dear Nadya,

Halya and I…"

The writing was not Pavlo’s. I stopped reading. This was Stephan’s note. Pavlo had hidden it from me. I had been sleeping on it all this time? He had lied to me. He had robbed me of the chance to say goodbye. Pavlo had stood there and told me he did not open the envelope. What else had he lied about? That moment I felt like I had never really known my husband. What else had he been capable of?

For a moment, I thought about throwing the letter away. What would it change to read his words? He was dead. But my curiosity was too strong, so I continued:

"Dear Nadya,

Halya and I were so relieved to hear from the American named Sonny that you were alive and had a family in Chicago. I’m sure that Halya explained our situation in her letter. It’s a blessing that I found her. We have a good life together, a happy life. Your sister, my wife, is a passionate, amazing woman. She reminds me of how you were: brave and adventurous. We had a son named Mykola, who died too young. He was our joy, and a part of us died with him. The rest has been filled with the ups and downs of life. We work, we play, we dance, and we laugh. What more is there, really?

I hope that you have been happy in America and that you found love and friendship. Perhaps someday our paths will cross again, and we can share old stories.

Yours truly,

Stephan"

That was all. No declarations of love. No heartfelt apologies. Just a quick note about how happy he was with my sister. I felt betrayed and sad. I had carried a torch in my heart for him for all these years. All along, he had been alive and making a happy life with my sister. I should have been happy for her, for them. I should have been relieved that Halya found someone to care for her. She lost everyone that night too. It wasn’t her fault, but still I felt jealous. It was my own fault. If I had only gone back, I could have taken care of Halya and been there when Stephan returned. If only—

My chest felt tight, my nerves raw and exposed. I looked again at the note, the neat handwriting. "Dear Nadya". My Stephan. But not mine. Can you ever really let go of a love that shapes you, that changes your destiny? Maybe it was just because he reminded me of a time when I was younger, full of hopes and dreams. Maybe it was because I promised to love him forever. Maybe it was okay to love him still. Ana used to say that love is one of the greatest natural resources we have on the planet.

"Darling, love isn’t exclusive. You don’t run out of it," Ana once said while slipping garlic and basil into a dark blue glass container of olive oil on her counter. Ana said that blue glass was the best because it kept things fresher.

Because Niki was out of town on business, I had come over for pizza. We had been talking about old lovers. Actually, Ana had been talking about her old lovers. I hadn’t specifically mentioned Stephan.

"It’s like this olive oil," she continued. "Old lovers are the spices that give life flavor."

"But I feel guilty thinking about someone from my past," I said. "Someone I had loved before Pavlo."

"Was he your first true love?" she asked me.

"Yes," I said with a sigh.

"Well, you shouldn’t feel guilty for thinking about him. I would guess that he probably symbolized something in your current relationship now that’s missing. Maybe it’s the romance?"

"Maybe." I said. "But I still feel guilty. Don’t you have any kind of herbal concoction to make me forget?"

"I’m an herbalist, Nadya, not a sorceress."

"Same thing, really," I said, sipping my cocktail. Ana had tried her hand at making a fruity pineapple drink. It was sweet and sour. I loved it.

"Don’t feel guilty, Nadya. I think about old flames from time to time. I even fantasize sometimes." She winked at me and continued, "I love each of them for the things they taught me . . . about love, about the world, about myself."

"Each of them? So many?" I asked.

Ana pulled back her shoulders, stretched her neck proudly, and said, "I am not ashamed of my past. I didn’t meet Niki until I was much older, and in the meantime, I had a lot of fun. Niki and I have talked about all this. He knows everything." She looked me in the eye. "Maybe you should talk to Pavlo?"

I burst into laughter, imagining the conversation. "No, Ana, I don’t think so. You and Niki are unusual; you’re lucky." I said.

"Yes, he’s a soul mate. No question. But I loved others before him, and I didn’t stop loving them when we were married. Sure, there are shades of love, but don’t think that the minute you have a ring on your finger, the past is erased and the future is sealed."

She sat down next to me and continued, "My theory is that the happier you are, the more love you have to give. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that human beings were put on this earth to love."

Ana smiled that big toothy grin. "That’s what gives life meaning, darling. The rest of it passes the time and creates drama, but love . . . love is what makes it all worthwhile. Think about it, you have such a big family, so many kids and grandkids . . . you love them all, yes?"

"Yes, but that’s different—"

"Shush. Not so different. Listen, I’m making a point. You aren’t afraid of running out of love for them?" She took my hand. Her fingers smelled of garlic. "And you love me, right?"

I felt myself blush, "Of course, Ana. You’re my best friend, my sister."

"And I love you . . . as much as I love Niki, Nadya. If you were a man, I probably would have run away with you years ago." She winked at me and let out that loud, unapologetic laugh of hers. "My point is that love doesn’t have limits. It’s people who set limits for love."

"What about marriage?" I asked, determined to make my point.

"Marriage?" She laughed again. "Think about all the couples we know who are miserable in their marriages. Everyone’s kids have grown up. Just see how many of them split up—or at least have separate bedrooms—once their kids are out of the house "

"No, marriage doesn’t guarantee love. Marriage is about creating a partnership for all kinds of practical reasons—like raising a family, which is easier if you know your partner is going to stay around. It’s also a way to make sure that we don’t die alone. Ultimately, that’s what we’re all afraid of: being left alone. So marriage seeks to quell that fear. Hopefully you grow old together. If you’re lucky, you marry your friend."

Ana stood up to make us some more drinks. "Or in cases like yours, dear heart, you need to make friends with the man you married. Unless you want a divorce?"

I could feel the warmth from the alcohol in my head. It made me feel freer, more confident. The words flowed a little more easily. "No, Ana. Divorce is not for me. Pavlo is a good man, a kind man. He’s a good father. And he . . . is my friend. We have our Saturday morning coffees. We talk about the week, and he actually makes the coffee."

"And he loves you, Nadya," Ana said, bringing over another drink. "I don’t think you see how much he loves you."

"He loves the way I take care of him," I said.

"No, he loves you, darling." Ana sat down again. "I don’t know about this man from the past, who he was or what he meant to you. But I do know that Pavlo loves you right now, albeit in his own way."

She took my hand again. "Let yourself love the past, but live the present."

My Mama used to say that marriage is a way for two souls to be united for eternity. But was it marriage that united the souls? What was it about a ritual that could make it so? Maybe it was a silent declaration in your heart that united the souls. What happened if you made that unspoken promise, but then married another? Could you ever break that covenant? What happened when your beloved died? Could your soul be joined to more than one person?

I was exhausted. It was too much to think about. Pavlo had lied to me. Halya was alive. Stephan had been alive. They had loved one another. Now we were both widows. At least I had a large family; Halya was truly alone. I would have to call her, but not yet. I wasn’t ready.

I got ready for bed and crawled under the warm blanket. I lay there thinking about the letters. Stephan had written that Halya was a brave and adventurous woman, like I had been. But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I had lost touch with my adventurous spirit, and I didn’t know how to get it back.

I lay with my back to the wall. If Pavlo had been alive, he would have been curled behind me. He always slept closest to the wall so I wouldn’t disturb him when I crawled out of bed in the morning. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that he was still there in the darkness.

"Pavlo, why did you lie to me?"

His voice whispered from the darkness: I’m not the one who’s guilty here. Ever since I met you, I loved only you. I never wanted to be anywhere else but by your side.