And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….



“Why do you always have to bury me in advance?! Why not just expect me to come back home alive?! Just for a change!” She woke with a start, and sat up, feeling her heart beating violently and her palms sweat. It was always the same. She would hear his voice and then turn to look at him. She would turn even knowing exactly that she was sleeping, knowing all that was a nightmare, knowing what she would see. She still had to look at him.

Shower. She needed water running round her. Wash away the past, the haunting memories. Wash away the pain. Start a new day feeling whole.



She walked across her kitchen, wrapped in her dressing gown, with her hair still wet after the shower and opened the window. Immediately there came the distant barking of ambulances heading to County. The sound was familiar, she got used to it living so close to the hospital. She shivered as chilly morning air penetrated inside the room. It looked like the dawning day would be nice and sunny.

She poured some coffee from the pot. She enjoyed those quiet hours when the kids were still asleep, when she could do things slowly, at her own pace. It was easier for her to get up earlier and slowly get through the everyday routine, step-by-step adjusting to the state of being awake, active and in full control. In the half-light of the dawn she never switched on the lights, finding her way around in this semidarkness, giving her eyes a chance to get used to the day.

She slowly dressed, combed her hair without looking in the mirror, and arranged it into a ponytail that lay down her back. She wrote a note to Ivan listing all the things he should not forget to do and sat an alarm for him.

She left home, closed the door, shutting her nightmares there. She had to concentrate on real things. She had to survive; she couldn’t afford being lost in her pain.

The restaurant she worked in boasted to be the only one in Chicago to serve authentic Russian cuisine, but belonged in fact to a Ukrainian Jew, originally from Kiev. It was located on the embankment; in about forty minutes walk from her house. She took the el only if the weather was particularly nasty. It’s been raining at night, the streets were wet and at the sidewalks water collected in quick streams to run down the sewers.

She was engrossed in her thoughts, making up plans for the days ahead, when sound of a car horn made her jump backwards from the pavement as an old, battered Saab passed slapping her with water. Bastard! She stood there trying to steady her breath for a couple of minutes. Well, she wasn’t supposed to cross the road there, but you don’t drive like that in the city! What, at the crack of dawn?! Where he was heading to, fire?



And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….





He watched in his rear mirror as she walked away, unsteady in her high heels shoes. Why did it bother him that he didn’t know her name? He didn’t remember how they met either. In the bar. He always went to the same bar. God, his head felt as if a couple of metal balls were rolling there, colliding with each other every other minute. He rubbed his eyes and tuned the engine on. He had to hurry. What was it, Randi said, a gunfight?

There wasn’t much traffic at that hour. He drove fast, although still fighting with headache. He’d need to take something for it. He should really keep something for such cases at home.

Now, what was the woman thinking of?! He pushed the horn, the sound of it breaking into his head like a hard blow. She jumped backwards right in time to avoid being hit. He wouldn’t have time to stop, not with the worn out brakes of his. She’d better wake up first and then go outside! And he’d better buy a new car.

That’s it. Look for a new car instead of getting yourself drunk every night after work. He smiled to himself at the thought. A new car, really. Doesn’t look good as the reason for living. But having no other, it will work. Will work for a while.



And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….



She had been running away for so long. For so long, so far away. If crossing the Atlantic wasn’t far enough, where else could she go? She’d started running as soon as they buried him. Whatever they thought was he. She could not bring herself to his grave. Must have been supposed to come there. At least her mother –in-law thought so. Must have brought the baby. She would, if she was sure the body lying under the granite tomb was he. Instead, she kept on talking to him. Talking aloud when there was nobody home, Lidka never in count. Lidka has heard her talking to him.

She moved back to St-Petersburg, lived with her mum and sister for a while. Rented an apartment. Went back to work. At times they had nothing to eat. She would send the kids to mum for dinners.

America, she never thought about it. Never considered immigration as an option. What would it change? It was all Irina’s, his sister, idea. She’d lived in America since so far as “perestroika” era. ‘What do you have to lose?’ She had nothing she had to admit. And yet, she hesitated. Leaving the country didn’t seem exactly the right thing to do. What if… ‘Come, it’s been four years. He’s not coming back. That’s it. Full stop. Period. You’ve buried him.’

And she came.

What did it change? Every now and then she would wake up trembling because in her sleep she went back to the day he left.