The Summer Garden (65 page)

Aunt Rita was standing by the window. “What’s your uncle doing?” she demanded of Tatiana.

“I don’t know.” Tatiana went to the basin and picked up the industrial soap. It was neither a lie nor an equivocation. She really did not know what her uncle was doing.

The answer did not satisfy Aunt Rita, who went to the screen door and screamed, “Boris! What are you doing?”

She had to scream it three times, and still he did not come. Opening the door, Rita descended down the steps. “Boris!”

When Rita was ten meters away, Boris stood up. Marina and Tatiana watched them from the window.

“Tania, I don’t know how you did that,” Marina said. “I would’ve thought you’d faint.”

“Why would you think that, Marinka?”

“Because
I
would’ve.”

“Am I you?”

“I’ve never seen so many leeches in one place,” said Marina, lowering her voice. “How could she have not known they were on her? I was bitten by one leech, I noticed right away.”

“They’re supposed to be painless,” said Tatiana. “Otherwise they’d be extinct. Also I think, her threshold for pain has been raised because of her back.”

They watched Saika limp to the lake to wash the blood off herself.

“I can’t believe she is going in again,” Marina said. “I’d never go in the water after something like that.”

“I have a feeling that if Saika applied that sentiment to her life,” Tatiana said, “there would be many things she would never do again, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tania,” replied Marina, averting her gaze and moving away.

Tatiana went to the door to close it because she didn’t want to hear the bitter words that were being exchanged between an incensed Aunt Rita and a quieter but defenseless Uncle Boris.

“The child is fifteen and was just attacked by leeches!” he said.

“What does that have to do with anything? What does that have to do with you not walking away?”

“I was trying to help her.”

“I bet you were!”

“She couldn’t get up.”

“Why would she need to when her favorite position seems to be on her back!”

“Rita!”

Tatiana closed the door with a sigh.

Strife followed the girl wherever she went. Into the village, into the woods, into the road, into the river, into the lake. Tea leaves, palms, rowan trees, sugar, bicycles, old, young, willing, reluctant, every step she walked on this earth, strife walked with her.

The Weeder’s Daughter

And then it rained
, and it kept coming down.

The three of them were sitting on the porch. The rain was pounding. “I heard you go every year after it rains across the lake to pick mushrooms and blueberries in the woods,” said Saika. “Can we go this year?” Her face was swollen; her body she covered in Marina’s clothes and blankets.

“If you want,” said Marina.

“I want, I want.” Saika looked across the expanse of the lake. “How do we get there?”

Marina said with a tinge of pride, “Tania rows us.”

“Not all the way there? It looks like two kilometers across.”

“Two and a half to the densest part of the forest, which is where the best mushrooms are. She rows the whole way. She is the Queen of Lake Ilmen, aren’t you, Tanechka?”

Tatiana usually blushed with pride at her rowing, but today she had lost her happy thoughts. “It’s only two lousy kilometers,” she said.

“One time I had to walk almost seventy kilometers,” Saika said. “You rowed two, I walked seventy.”

“That’s a long way, Saika,” Tatiana said. “Where were you going?”

“I was running away.”

“By yourself?”

Saika was quiet. “How do you do that?” she said at last. “Out of all the damn questions to ask me, how is it you always manage to ask the one I don’t want to answer? Is it your special gift?”

They were sitting on two small porch couches, all played out.

“You ask too many questions,” Saika said. “Rather, you ask the wrong kinds of questions.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Tatiana didn’t look puzzled. “Where were you headed? Is
that
a better question?”

“Iran,” Saika replied. “We lived only a hundred kilometers from the border then.”

Tatiana was listening to the nuance of her voice, between the lines, trying to catch, hoping to catch, failing to catch. “When was this?”

“A few years ago.”

Saika was fifteen now.

“We were doomed, Tania. If you knew what I was talking about, you’d understand. I can’t explain it to you. Marina understands.”

“I understand,” said Marina. “I want to feel that doomed.”

Doomed at thirteen? “So what happened?”

“Well, you know what happened,” Saika said. “My father caught us.”

Marina rubbed Saika’s arm. “Let’s not talk about it, Saika, dear. Let’s talk about something happy instead—like going across Lake Ilmen!”

“Yes, yes, let’s talk about that,” said Saika. “Do Aunt Rita and Uncle Boris come, too?”

“Of course,” said Marina. “Nobody lets children go into the woods alone.”

“Hmm,” Saika said. “We’re not children anymore. Even Tania is fourteen. She’s practically a young woman.” Saika cleared her throat. “And your parents, Marina, they’ve been getting along so poorly. Perhaps they’d enjoy one day by themselves. Without us kids around. To do adult things.” She smiled.

“Oh, they’ll never let us go by ourselves!” said Marina, her face lighting up. “But how delightful that would be!”

“Let’s ask them,” Saika said. “The worst they’ll do is say no. Right, Tania?”

“I have no idea,” Tatiana said indifferently. “Because I’m going home tomorrow. So you girls do what you like.”

“You’re going home? Why?” Marina said, all high-pitched. “Does Mama know?”

“She’ll know tomorrow,” said Tatiana.

“No, no. Don’t go. Why are you going?”

Tatiana stared at Marina and said nothing.

“Oh, come on!” Marina exclaimed. “We were just playing with you, right Saika? It’s all water under the bridge now.”

“That water under the bridge is getting quite full,” said Tatiana. “It’s rising above the banks.”

“It’s me,” Saika said suddenly and coldly. “She’s never liked me, Marina. I told you that and you didn’t believe me. I tried to be her friend, I tried to talk, to play. Nothing I ever did was right.”

“Tania, tell Saika that’s not true!”

“This isn’t about me,” said Tatiana, deflecting with the best of them.

“Admit it—you’ve never liked me,” said Saika.

“It has nothing to do with you either,” Tatiana said. “I’m going home because I want to be with my family.”

“No, you’re judging me,” said Saika.

“This is getting
so
tiresome.”

“You’ve judged me from the beginning,” Saika went on, her voice rising. “You judged me for my scars, you judged me for my forward manner. You even judge me for my developed body! You judge me now for taking up with a boy too young. You. Just. Judge. Me.”

Tatiana said nothing at first. Then, “Well, tell me, what happened to the boy you took up with? We know what you got, but what did
he
get?” She was so quiet when she spoke, yet her words were like clanging cymbals on the quiet porch as the rain kept falling.

“I told you about Azeri justice,” said Saika. “And I don’t want to talk about it with you. Because everything I say, you use against me.”

There was almost no sound from Tatiana, just an inflective breathing out. “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks,” she whispered.

“You see, Marina!” Saika jumped up, blankets off, shoulders heaving, eyes blazing, face red. Tatiana, smaller, unheaving, face pale, slowly stood up. Her hands were at her sides.

“Tatiana, honestly, what’s got into you?” Marina exclaimed, rising herself. “Saika is our guest!”

“Oh, shut up, Marina,” said Tatiana. “She’s not
my
guest. I haven’t invited her in.”

Saika stepped away. “Tania, Tania, Tania,” she said. “How simpleminded your view of the world. The world is such a complex place, so many wants and needs and desires all crashing against one another. We try to make sense of it, we all do the best we can, and then comes along a primitive like you.” She shook her black head. “Who knows nothing. Who understands nothing.”

Tatiana was quiet. She could have walked away right then and there. She would have walked away right then and there. But she felt this wasn’t an entirely pointless discussion. Not when Marina was involved, Marina with her good but weak heart.

“Okay, I know nothing,” Tatiana said. “So what do you care what I think? Even if I don’t like you, so what? For the sake of argument, let’s say I don’t. Just for the sake of argument. Let’s say I don’t want to play with you or talk to you. I don’t like your secrets, I don’t like your world of twisted soothsaying fraud—this is all hypothetical, Saika. I’m just laying it on to make my point. So what, even if I don’t? In Luga you got all the other kids to play with you. And here you have Marina. My point is, you can’t win over everybody,” Tatiana said. “What do you care what
I
think of you?”

“I
don’t
care what you think of me,” said Saika. “You’re just jealous your friends played with me instead of you, jealous your brother played with me. That’s why you don’t like me. Maybe if you were more interesting, Tania, you’d be able to keep your friends.”

“Maybe. But there you go again, pretending it’s about me. Why aren’t you thrilled you got them all to play with
you
? Why isn’t that enough? Why isn’t Marina enough?”

“Girls, stop it,” Marina said, going to Tatiana. “Tania, stop it.”

Tatiana put out her arm to stop Marina from getting any closer.

“You have no right to judge me, Tatiana,” said Saika.

“That was never my intention,” Tatiana said. “My point was always this and remains this: it is your choice whether or not you come and play with me. It has always been your choice. But if you choose to play with me, you play with me on my terms, not on yours. That’s all.”

“And what are those terms, Tatiana?”

“You know them well,” Tatiana said. “First of all, I don’t like to be mocked or ridiculed. I don’t like to be told things I don’t want to hear, or things that aren’t true. I don’t like to be constantly and underhandedly subverted.”

“This is what I mean! You’re judging me even now!”

Tatiana didn’t reply to that, saying instead, “I’ve never bothered you in any way. I didn’t seek you out, I never called on you. I didn’t come to your door. I helped you when I could—and you’re welcome by the way.”

“Oh, like I’m going to thank you for that!” Saika exclaimed. “You think I deserved those leeches. I know how you think, you and your fucking Newton. You think I was mean to you and got what was coming to me.”

At this point Tatiana could have protested. A feeble denial perhaps.

But what a calm Tatiana said was, “And by what mechanism do the Yezidi think the universe rights itself in this manner?”

Marina gasped. “Tania!”

“What do you want with me, Saika?” asked Tatiana. “As you keep telling Marina and anyone who will listen, I’m just a barely educated simpleton. Why is your struggle for my approval so overwrought? Why are you always tugging on me to come join your circle? Not content to leave me alone, are you?”

Saika stepped suddenly closer.

Without backing away, without taking her eyes off the girl, and without opening her hands, Tatiana said, coldly quiet, “Be grateful.”

“Grateful for what?”

“Be grateful it was just the leeches that got you in the lake.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It could have been worse,” said Tatiana in a low voice. “It could have been the
bloodworms
.”

“The what?” Now Saika backed away, her eyes darkening.

“Haven’t heard of them? Oh, yes. They’re the real bottom dwellers in this lake. Red bloodworms. Glycera species of the segmented worm. The worm’s nose is twenty percent the length of its body. It’s got four fangs at the tip of it. Each fang is attached to a venom gland. And the bloodworm bites. Imagine thousands of them on you.”

“You’re sick,” said Saika, paling, backing away another step until she was nearly at the door.

“I’m sick and tired of you,” said Tatiana, stepping forward and whispering, “I know who you are.”

“Get your hands away from me!” Saika cried. “Being touched by you is worse than being sucked dry by those leeches. Don’t touch me again. You’re like a bloodworm.”

It had stopped raining when Tatiana told Aunt Rita she was leaving.

Uncle Boris stared wearily at his wife, at his daughter. “Marina, why does Tania want to go home? What are you doing to make Tania want to leave us?”

“She is not going!” cried Rita. “My brother will never forgive me if I don’t take care of his daughter the way he takes care of ours every August. We might need him to take care of Marina again in the future. What if we need his help? Tania’s not going!”

“Why don’t you treat her a little better,” Boris yelled, “and maybe she won’t want to leave your house! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Another thousand before I listen to you!” cried Rita, and off they went, slamming screen doors, into dark trees, screaming through the echoes of the damp night that carried their voices across the water, their shouting returned to them unsoftened even by the serenity of the lake amid the tinny din of the mosquitoes that were too displeased by the racket to sting them.

Late that night, Marina crept to Tatiana’s cot in the hall. “Tanechka,” she whispered, putting her hands on Tatiana. “Saika says she is sorry. I’m sorry, too. Please don’t go back to Luga. Please. Come with us tomorrow. It rained so well today, the mushrooms will cover the forest. Come on. It’s our annual Lake Ilmen trip. We always go, you, me, Pasha.”

“You don’t notice my brother here, do you?”

“Mama wants our blueberries and mushrooms. Yours too. We’ll have the best soup, the best pie. Your Dasha is waiting for the mushrooms. You know how she loves them. Come on, think of her. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“You did upset me,” said Tatiana.