Olya, her great-grandmother, stood by the window, her brows furrowed. Her figure loomed there like a monument: impeccable posture, powerful torso, sorrowful lines on her face. She’d been arguing with Great-Grandpa Kolya all morning. Outside, a dusty street stretched out, lined with a few poplar trees and some faded grass. Vladivostok, though a major port in the Far East of Russia, was decidedly provincial in the late seventies; nothing at all was happening. A breeze blew in through the window, raising goosebumps on Liza’s bare legs. She prodded them with her finger, glancing first at the window, then at the bowl of cookies on the table. A few days ago, her dad had read her a story about some treacherous Pechenegs1 attacking a handsome bogatyr2. Later, she said to him coyly, “Dad, you’re a Pecheneg!” He laughed. “And you’re a pechenyushka3!” Then he kissed her on the nose.
Liza’s great-grandfather Kolya slowly entered the room, as if out for a stroll. With an absent look, he inspected the bookshelves, then glanced out the window and said, “Look at that--kvass4 has arrived! Maybe I should go buy some . . . ”
He wandered around the apartment, whistling, looking for a container. He peered under the table, under the couch, and winked at Liza. She covered her mouth with her hands but couldn’t hold it in and burst into laughter. She whispered, barely able to contain herself, “Mom took the jug.”
Kolya threw up his hands theatrically. “Well, what can you do! Gotta find the three-liter jar.”
And off he went, rummaging in the kitchen.
Olya turned away from the window and gave Liza a long, strange look. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. When Kolya returned, beaming, a three-liter jar in his hands, she remarked acidly, “Would you look at him all glowing! What’s the matter—a certain neighbor is already in line? Well, don’t you go like that—freshen up a bit! Better yet, take a flower and put it in your lapel. Too bad you’ve lost your famous curls, your pride and joy!”
Kolya shriveled at these words, collapsing onto the couch as if his legs had given out.
“Olyenka, if you don’t love me anymore, just go ahead and say so. Why torment me, make me a laughingstock? And yesterday, at the Kuprianovs’, it was so embarrassing. ‘Sit this way.’ ‘Don’t hold the fork that way . . . ’”
Liza started paying closer attention; something unsettling was in the air. She had completed her mission but was hesitant to announce herself. Olya was staring out the window again while Kolya gazed pleadingly at her profile. Liza was just about to rise from the potty when her great-grandmother suddenly spun around and, her eyes sparkling, began quietly, “You know, Nikolay . . . I just realized that I’ve spent my life with a complete stranger. Forty-two years. Multiply that by three hundred and sixty-five days. Together with a man who couldn’t read a single one of my articles. Who couldn’t hold a conversation with any of my friends. And I had to choose: my husband or my friends. I made my choice. And started associating with . . . the Kuprianovs, who don’t have a book at home. That’s how my life went by.”
Kolya’s chin quivered. He tried to say something but only spread his hands helplessly and looked to Liza, as if for support. Cautiously, she said, “I’m done.”
Turning back to the window, Olya commanded, “Wipe the child’s butt.”
Great-Grandpa brought a blob of tissue from the bathroom, bent Liza’s soft body over his knee, and mumbled, “Olya, you never told me any of this. How was I supposed to know? I always thought you were happy with me. If I’d had the slightest inkling . . . ”
“Then what? What would you have done?” Olya shot back, as if stung.
Kolya flinched and froze, his hand in midair. Liza also froze, bent in half. She was starting to get scared: something incomprehensible and cruel had crawled into the room.
“You wouldn’t have done anything!” Olya said. “You knew about me and my assistant but pretended not to notice. Everybody knew.”
Kolya’s reply was barely audible. “You’re trying to hurt me? Do you want me to leave?”
“You’re free to go anywhere you wish!” Olya suddenly shouted.
Liza plopped onto the floor with her bare bottom, and her great-grandpa, grabbing the potty, shuffled to the bathroom. Then he started rushing around the apartment, packing things into an old briefcase. Liza stayed quiet. Olya bit her lip and fumbled with the hem of her cardigan.
“Good-bye, Olya.”
Without looking at her, Kolya bent down and kissed Liza on her round cheek. Then he left the apartment and closed the door behind him.
When Liza got bored, she pulled an old toy train out of her treasure trunk and began pushing it across the floor. Every now and then, she glanced at her great-grandmother and saw tears streaming down her face. The toy train wasn’t much fun either, so Liza got up and grabbed a large plastic toy horn that, when blown into, emitted a vile squeaky sound. Walking up close to Olya, Liza began to strike her with the horn, full force, in the stomach. Olya yelped softly and tried to shield herself with her hands. Satisfied, Liza hurled the horn into a corner and went to take a sip of cold tea from the cup on the table.
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Liza ran to the door.
It really was her mother. Vera came in, set her bags on the floor, took off her shoes, and picked up her daughter, who was clinging to her neck.
“How are things? Where’s Grandpa?”
Olya pretended to be searching for something important inside her pocket. “He . . . I think he’ll be staying with a friend for a while.”
Vera studied her grandmother while Liza gaped at her in adoration. Vera’s hair was messy, and her cheeks were flushed. Liza gave her a quick kiss on the ear.
“You had another fight, didn’t you? How much longer can this go on, Grandma? You’re adults, aren’t you? You’ve been together your whole lives. People look up to you: Olya and Kolya, you know. And now, in your old age . . . Grandma, please don’t get offended, but this has to do with brain deterioration. We had a lecture on gerontology, and the professor said that, as we age, our nervous system wears down. People become grumpy, hard to please; everything bothers them. You’re not mad, are you?”
Olya sighed. “Of course not. You’re right.”
“Okay then. Next time, I’ll bring you some herbs. You’ll start taking them and it will calm your nerves. Oh, here’s an idea! Our institute is handing out vacation packages—we can’t go because I have exams. Maybe we could send you two to the sanatorium? It’s supposed to be close by. I brought some bologna and bread for you. Hey, let’s get dressed!” The last part was directed at her daughter.
Liza brought over her green dress and polka-dotted apron from the other room. Vera had recently found a pattern in Rabotnitsa5 magazine and had been sewing ruffled aprons for Liza so that her dresses lasted longer.
“Where’s the other sandal? Liza, where’s the sandal, I’m asking you. Oh, not again! It’s torn! What kind of girl are you? Everything you put on gets ripped to pieces! You’re a boy, not a girl! I wanted to make a new dress for you with Daddy’s next salary, but now we’ll have to get sandals. Where’s your sun hat? Go find it now!”
Walking away from the house, they saw Olya looking out the window and waving her hand sadly.
A few days later, Kolya came to pick up Liza from day care. They walked hand in hand through a park, squinting at the sun. Liza hopped on one foot, humming a popular children’s tune, “Grasshopper Who Sat in the Grass.” Grasshoppers really were chirping in the grass, and furry black butterflies flitted over the flowers. Liza was in a great mood: a boy from her group had shared a candy with her and let her take a peek at his privates. But Kolya looked sad.
“Did you talk to Grandma Olya?” asked Liza.
Kolya shook his head and looked far away, beyond the trees.
Liza pursed her lips. A little devil seemed to have appeared inside her at this very moment; it started to dance impatiently, urging her to do something naughty. After a brief and unsuccessful struggle with the beast, she said, feigning indifference, “I saw Grandma Olya yesterday. She told me she loves you and wants to make up.”
She’d lied brazenly; Olya had said nothing of the sort.
Kolya perked up immediately, his eyes lighting up with hope. “Really? Then I’ll go to her tonight. I’ll buy some flowers . . . ”
Five minutes later, Kolya and Liza were devouring ice-cream cones and laughing with joy.
At first, the three of them spat off the balcony. Then they sprayed water on the pedestrians below with a squirt bottle. When one of the victims yelled at them, they went to catch a few of the guppies from the fish tank. But even that got boring after a while. Sprawled on the couch, Mishka said with an air of superiority, “You guys are having a funeral today at your place. Grandpa Kolya’s funeral.”
Liza didn’t react. She didn’t know what funeral meant.
Sevka said, “She doesn’t know what funeral means.”
Mishka thought for a moment. “Grandpa Kolya died. Do you know what died means?”
Liza tensed up.
“They’ll put him in a coffin, nail it shut, and then bury it in the ground.”
Liza was silent for a second and then suggested, “Let’s play with toy soldiers.”
The boys just looked at her, puzzled.
Eventually, Liza was retrieved from the neighbors’. Vera picked her up and carried her into the living room of her great-grandparents’ apartment. There, two tables had been put up side by side, and a long wooden box lay on top, with a white-faced person inside. The person looked faintly like Great-Grandpa Kolya. A crowd of strangers occupied the rest of the room and whispered to each other. Vera hid her wet face in Liza’s hair.
“Mommy, why are you crying?” Liza asked.
Vera whispered, “This is my grandpa in the coffin. He died, and that’s why I’m crying. We have to say good-bye to him.”
After that, Liza was taken to the neighbors’ again. Mishka asked her gently, “Do you want a kitty? We’re eating kitties.”
He cut a slice off a large, pickled cucumber and held it out to her, “This is a kitty, you see?”
The cross section of the pickle really did look like a sitting cat: a round head and two round haunches.
The three of them began to eat kitties together, and Mishka explained, “My mom told me, and your mom told her, that Grandpa Kolya went to make up with Grandma Olya, but she kicked him out. And then his heart gave out, and he died. He fell right there on the stairs with the bouquet—and that was it!”
Liza listened to him in a trance as she ate her cucumber.
A month later, Great-Grandma Olya died too. Her heart gave out.
Her mother had died several years ago from lymphosarcoma.
Liza thought about this for a moment. Then she confessed that she’d killed her great-grandparents when she was three.
2. A stock character in medieval East Slavic legends, akin to a Western European knight-errant.
3. “Little cookie” in Russian.
4. A traditional Slavic and Baltic fermented beverage commonly made from rye bread. In the Soviet Union, kvass was produced commercially and sold in the streets out of large vats. Customers would bring their own containers for the desired volume of kvass.
5. Translated as “Working Woman,” this was one of the most popular women’s magazines in the USSR. Highly propagandistic, it would teach Soviet women to work hard at their jobs, cook tasty dishes out of the few foodstuffs available, and make clothing last longer.
