Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Rewriting Chekhov

Anton Chekhov has long been one of my favorite Russian authors, and when I was given the opportunity to direct a ten-minute play with my theater troupe, I jumped at the chance to adapt a favorite Chekhov story, "The Death of a Government Clerk," to the stage. Chekhov has a talent for delivering ironically humorous twists at the end of his stories, which makes his short tales fairly addictive. I hope you enjoy my rhymed rendition.

The Sneeze
by Hope Johnson
an adaptation of "The Death of the Government Clerk" by Anton Chekhov

Characters:

Leo Chervyakov: man in his 30s, subordinate to General Brizzhalov. Extremely worried about appearances and what people think of him. An obsessive worrier.  Comically obsequious and fawning.

General Brizzhalov: a middle-aged Russian general, high up on the totem pole. Dignified and easily irritated.

Leo’s Wife: has learned to put up with her husband’s worry-wart ways.

Narrator: chronicles the demise of poor Leo.

Leo, the government clerk, sits watching the opera, looking very pleased with himself. General Brizzhalov sits in front of him.

Narrator

Follow me to Russia,
to an evening opera play,
When a twist of fate and a worrisome trait,
Led a man to the end of his days.
I can picture it like it was yesterday;
it was 1883,
When Leo, a government clerk
Was watching the opera with glee.
Til’ suddenly his face puckered up;
his eyes disappeared in his head;
His breathing abated, he desperately waited,
His face turned wild and red.
Then he bent over and nat-u-ral-ly let out a loud

Leo
Achoo!
But, all men sneeze, a natural thing, no cause for much ado. (to himself) 

Narrator
But then to his dread he saw that he’d spread
His sneeze to the balding man up ahead.
The man turned around with a grumbling sound
And scowled at him for the spittle he’d found.

Leo (to himself)
Oh, no! It’s Brizzhalov, a general,
so high above my station!
Will I live?
Will he forgive my sudden sternutation*?
Of course I must apologize,
The way he shamed me with his eyes!
I’ll do it now; I’ll count to three,
and pray he won’t be mad at me.

Leo crosses himself, then stands up and taps General Brizzhalov on the shoulder.
Pardon me, your Excellence
I sneezed on you by accident.

General
Never mind, never mind.

General turns around and sits down again. Leo taps him on the shoulder again and persists.

Leo
But sir, I must absolve my guilt for sneezing on your head,
Remorse for what I’ve done has filled my soul with dread!

General
Please, sit down! Let me listen! I have no time for foolish drivel;
Watch the play, forget the sneeze, and wipe away that stupid snivel!

Narrator
Our hero was embarrassed, as the general turned away,
His anger was apparent, for his untimely spray;
He knew he must say sorry for his nose’s sudden whim,
So at the intermission, he tip-toed up to him.

Leo
I spattered you, your Excellence; forgive me if you please,
Please know it was an accident, that sudden, irksome sneeze,
I swear upon the tsar and on our countries many woes,
I didn’t mean to splatter you with what’s inside my nose.

General
That’s enough, I had forgot, but you keep on and on!
Leave me be; don’t trouble me, with trifles hereupon!
Is this your normal way; do you like to stir up strife?
If this is what you’re like, then sir, I pity your poor wife.

General leaves angrily, leaving Leo on the stage.
Leo
Oh, no! He is upset with me; I saw it in his eyes,
That fiendish light if not appeased, will lead to my demise;
He says he has forgotten, but I’m not really sure;
Perhaps the time to think will let his wayward thoughts mature!
I know what time does to a man’s imagination;
Later he may think that it was full premeditation!

Leo sits at his kitchen table, talking to his wife.

Narrator
On getting home, Leo had a meeting with his wife;
And told her of the breach of manners threatening his life.
Leo
My dear, disaster’s on our home, my love, forgive me please;
Tonight upon a general I somehow chanced to sneeze.

Wife (laughs)
My dear, I understand your qualms in principle, you se
But in the grander scheme of things it’s just a little sneeze.

Leo (taken aback)
You take too frivolous a view on what has just transpired;
This general, he has the power to get your husband fired!
I don’t know what to do? What if I get demoted?
For sure I’ll be a laughingstock; I’ll never be promoted!

Wife
Please calm down, preserve your waning sanity, I say;
I swear your worried ways will be the end of you someday!
But I know you well and that you’ll never let it go,
So if you’d like, get up and go apologize tomorrow.

Leo
That's just it! I did, but somehow he took it badly;
Perhaps a night of rest will help him take it gladly.

Leo waits outside the General’s office, nervously fixing his clothes and hair.

Narrator
Morning came and Leo waited by the general’s door,
Another smart apology would patch things up for sure.

Leo
My shoes are shined, my hair is cut, my uniform is pressed;
I’m ready now, the general is sure to be impressed.

General
Next!
Leo enters the room timidly and simpers at the general.
Leo
Yesterday at the opera, if you still recollect,
To my chagrin, I sneezed on you, and I must genuflect
Before you now, my dearest sir, I’ve been quite a buffoon
I spattered you and splattered you just like a snorting goon!

General
What nonsense man! Your foolishness, I barely can believe!
Get on your feet, stop simpering, and make your way to leave.

Leo
Your Excellence! I cannot leave if I still feel your ire,
I need to know that you do not consider me a liar!

The General makes a face and waves his hand in dismissal.

General
I’m tired of your words, they couldn’t be sincere,
You bother me at work at the busiest time of year;
I know it now; it’s clear to see,
You’re only making fun of me!

Leo leaves the room, but we see him pacing nervously outside the General’s office.

Leo
The devil take him! I'll have to write a letter to the man.
But no; he’ll think I’m making fun;
I’ll have to visit him again.

Narrator
So here he stood the next day, to do what he must do
With his nervous eyes and his fawning guise,
you’d think it déjà vu.

Leo walks in to the General’s office.

Leo
I ventured to disturb you in your office yesterday,
not to make fun of you as you were pleased to say;
I came just to apologize, somehow to appease
The wrath that I incurred, upon my sudden sneeze.

General (stands up, livid)
Be off with you I say! Leave while you can,
I never want to hear your whiny voice  again!
I’m tired of your words; I’m tired of your face
The way you’ve carried on has made your name a sure disgrace!
Leo runs out in horror and doubles over in stomach pain. He stumbles home, holding his stomach. He returns home and collapses on his sofa.
Narrator
When he left, Leo felt a sudden stomach pain;
His trip to see the General, had surely been in vain.
He staggered on mechanically until he reached his home,
Defeated and remembering the General’s livid ton
Overcome by his aching stomach and his wounded pride,
Leo lay down on his sofa



and died.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Martyr

This poem was recently published in The Idiom, Gordon College's literary journal.

Martyr

Roman sand
already spiced with death
burns your calloused heels
as you enter the shriekingarena;
bloodthirsty spectators drool at your fate.

Go swathe yourself in blood.
You cannot stop it. Be afraid
of the lion's teeth cascading
on limbs, breaking bones.
tearing flesh.

As your blood drains
into the sand,
spirals of life absorbed by the abyss
of dry heat and white noise,
remember the red medicine
that brought you here
victorious.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Cold Hope

10:55. I usually take my smoke break right about now. I’ll stand right here, practically gulping down my last cigarette before they lock up the dorms for the night. I always make it back right before eleven, then run to my room and jump under the covers while Anya makes us cheap black tea. Tea sounds wonderful right now. I pull my thin purple coat closer as the wind hisses. Tonight, it blows with a bite I haven’t felt since last February. It’s only October, but Russian winters start early. And tonight, I won’t be going back inside.

“Your three weeks are up,” she says. The head nurse’s clothes are the color of mildew, and burgundy lipstick highlights her stern mouth. She shifts her imposing mass onto one foot as she stares me down. I know what she’s waiting for, but I don’t have it. I wish I did, but I don’t. No, I spent my last 30 rubles on the letter I sent home to Mama. 

“This is a dormitory for ill students, and you have had sufficient time to recover.”

I know what she really means: if I can’t pay up, then get out. None of the students who live here are sick anyway. They get in because their parents can pay. My American friend Katie would call it a bribe, but for us, it’s just a part of everyday life. A way to survive. There is practically no housing for university students in Nizhni. The only way I got into the sick dorm was because my parents are doctors. They signed a note saying I had severe respiratory problems. I cough as I take my last puff of cigarette. Well, perhaps it’s not too far from the truth. I throw the cigarette on the ground and extinguish the embers with the heel of my boot. I need to start walking if I’m going to keep warm. I take one last look at the dingy dormitory and set off into the city.

“Please, I can get a doctor’s note; I need more time.” I know that my words are worth nothing to her; words don’t line pockets. But still, I feel myself begging mechanically, as if I can somehow prevent the inevitable.

“Your three weeks are up, Masha. You are required to pack up your belongings and leave by 11:00 tonight.”

“But I have nowhere to go,” I manage.

“And how is that my problem? Go stay with one of your friends.”

 I turn away from her scowling visage and head to pack my bag, defeated.  My throat tightens, my eyes start to burn, and for a moment, I almost give into my emotions. I reach for my cellphone and dial Mama’s number. I want to push send, but I snap the phone closed and shove it back in my bag. It’s tempting, but I can’t do it, I won’t do it. I’m seventeen and I need to start taking responsibility for my own problems. All it would do is worry her, and she and Papa are too far away to do anything. I am on my own.

            I’ve walked for two hours now. Trolleybuses, taxis and every other form of public transportation are nowhere to be found, and for the most part, the city sleeps. The occasional car buzzes by and the street lights cast an eerie glow on the barren sidewalks. Three drunk men sprawl out like kings on a bench, chortling like hyenas. The stone Kremlin is lit, and its ominous beauty speaks of centuries of history. It is so different here than at home. Back home, we live in the country, and I wake up to the smell of wild grass and lilac seeping through the window. My little sister Nastya is sleeping beside me, a peaceful glow on her face. By the time I arise, Mama is in the kitchen making hot kasha. Papa is already at the university working on his book. I come to the kitchen and bring my old guitar. It used to be Papa’s when he was my age. A gust of wind shocks me into reality. I clutch the old guitar to my side; my fingers look like raw meat, red and numb. Oh, Papa. What would you think if you saw me right now?  I picture the night before I left home to come to Nizhni Novgorod.

 Papa is sitting at the kitchen table, watching an old movie and smoking his cigar. Mama sits next to him, and Nastya is on her lap. We are drinking tea, made Papa’s special way. No one makes tea like Papa. Nastya sips milk and grabs a piece of kielbasa from the spread of snacks. Mama and Papa can’t afford kielbasa, but they scrimped up enough for my last night at home. Papa hands me an orange and smiles. “Work hard at university, Masha, and you will become a good doctor.”

“Yes Papa,” I smile and hold his gaze.

I’ve walked for four hours now. I want home, but home is an impossible wish, and if it weren’t for the memories that burn so brightly, I would doubt its existence. I don’t know why I keep walking, what I’m looking for. That isn’t true. I do know, but I fear to admit such a crazy hope. Maybe, just maybe, someone will find me, take compassion on me, and invite me in. Maybe I’m not really alone in this big city. I know it won’t happen, how many beggars have I turned away? I am invisible as I wander, yet I wander because I hope. I hum a song Papa used to play on the guitar, “It’s time to go home, away from the war, it’s time to go home, young soldier…”  I feel Papa’s strong voice giving me strength and weakening me at the same time.  I collapse on the sidewalk and give in. I don’t sob; I don’t bawl, but silent streams of water cover my face. I put my head between my knees and hug my bony legs, rocking back and forth, back and forth. “It’s time to go home, away from the war, it’s time to go home, young soldier.”

Someone touches my shoulder. I look up to see a young man. Young, but certainly older than me. He is sturdily built, dark-haired and confident. He smiles, comes close to me. “What are you doing out this late at night?” His breath hints at vodka. I don’t answer. I should walk away, but I can’t. My body feels paralyzed, and all at once I am frightened and hopeful, apprehensive and trusting. “You’re probably wondering the same thing about me,” he says, this time softening his words with a smile. “I’m Oleg. I graduated from the University last spring.” I still don’t answer, but my knees release their locked position. He reaches a hand out. I gingerly grab it, and he helps me to my feet. “Come on, I know you don’t know me, but you need a place to stay for the night.”

Papa’s face is at once before me. His eyes say what I feel in my gut,

 “Masha, leave!” But Papa, I’m so cold!

 “Masha, don’t go with him.” But Papa, how do you know he isn’t just being kind? I need to trust him! Mama appears beside Papa.

 “Masha, come home!” Mama, I can’t! I can’t!

“It’s time to go home, away from the war, it’s time to go home, young soldier…”

 I wipe them out of my mind like condensation from a window. The bone-numbing cold out-shouts their tender voices. No, Papa, no, Mama, this is my only chance.  

“Thank you,” I whisper. I walk in silence with Oleg down the broken sidewalk. I’ve never been in this part of the city before. Broken glass sullies the walkway, and two skinny stray dogs huddle in a doorway, shivering. He doesn’t ask for my hand, but takes it. I don’t resist. His hand is gentle upon mine, but too unfamiliar. We reach an apartment complex, dingy and crumbling.  We enter the building, and my frozen hands tingle from the sudden warmth. The metal door thuds with finality.

“Do you feel better now that you’re out of the cold?”  I search the mystery man’s eyes for compassion or hate, kindness or evil, but all I can see are eyes cloudy from a night of too much vodka. What would Papa think?

“I think so,” I manage.

Oleg sits down at the kitchen table and pours himself a drink. He looks at me with those murky eyes, motives still indiscernible. What have I done? Am I saved, or am I trapped?  I sit there, helpless, body warm, but as numb as ever.  

Sunday, July 3, 2011

The Lost Boys of Sudan

We will walk forever, eternity
From the coral, blood-splattered open grave;
We cry, but no tears will set our eyes free.

Dead eyes of lifeblood, dead homes made me flee,
Ebony ghosts slice your shallowness; rave!
We will walk forever, eternity.

So dare, look at me, a skeleton tree,
Tongue stiff and twig limbs; eye sockets a cave;
We cry, but no tears will set our eyes free.

You say in America we’ll be free,
Scatter us orphans, in vain tongue your “save;”
We will walk forever, eternity.

Phantoms of family condemn us to be
Lonely,  to torment forever a slave,
We cry, but no tears will set our eyes free.

Home stays a taunting and flaming decree,
Foreign enigma price makes us walk brave.
We will walk forever, eternity,
We cry, but no tears will set our eyes free.


Here is a link to some information about the Lost Boys of Sudan. http://nahalhumanitiesgreen.blogspot.com/2010/03/where-do-we-belong.html

Monday, June 27, 2011

Black Tea and Wine: A Short Story

Black Tea and Wine

Chapter One
“How’s your theology coming? Is that one a page-turner?” I teased Pavel, who sat stiffly on the train bench with his eyes glued to a book. Pavel was one of my oldest friends; in fact, we had known each other since before we could walk. Our fathers were both pastors of the Baptist Church in the village of Seltso, Russia, but that’s about where our similarities stopped. I examined Pavel with his nondescript brown hair and glasses and remembered slices of our childhood together.
“Come on Pavel, let’s go throw eggs at Babushka Olya’s house!”
“Nikita, no! What made you think of such a thing? We’ll get in trouble with Papa, and you know it!”
“Pavel, you’re no fun!”
Even at nine years old, Pavel Fedorov’s path and mine had diverged. Time had only widened the divide of our philosophies. Pavel answered my taunting humbly.
“Yes, Nikita, I am enjoying my book.”
“How can you read theology when we’re headed to Moscow? The Third Rome, the place where every desire can be fulfilled! Don’t tell me you’re not excited.” I, of course, had more reasons to be excited than Pavel did. For one, I knew how to enjoy life, and Moscow was full of it. I knew that embracing what the world had to offer was not as dangerous as my close-minded church made it sound. Especially in the case of beautiful women. I have had an affinity for femininity and all its charms as long as I can remember, much to my parents’ chagrin. Growing up, I was drilled daily by my father on the correct way to live, and now that I was almost twenty-one, “it was high time I started acting like a man,” or so he said. I think he was just worried that I made him look bad on Sundays. Sure, the church had gone through hard times when Papa was younger. But times were different now! Communism had been gone for over twenty years, yet our church still held onto every last tradition as if the K.G.B was going to come in the night and steal us away. Couldn’t they just move on and act like normal people in normal times? For all his talk about God, I felt deep down that my father’s motive wasn’t for a higher power. Maybe it wasn’t his fault, but still, he was a man who wanted to rule people’s lives. That’s all the church was. And that was what Pavel was turning into. I snatched Pavel’s book.
“Nikita, give that back! Stop acting like a child.”
“No, not until you decide to relax for just one week, my friend. God will be there when you get back.”
“Don’t talk like that Nikita. God sees everything, you know.”
There he was, going all fire and brimstone on me again. I decided to try a different tactic.
“Well then, haven’t you forgotten that your beloved fiancé is with us?” A train screamed past ours and deafened Pavel’s answer. Frustrated, he tried again.
“I said, I want to finish my book before we get there so I can enjoy myself!”
“You know, Pavel, it’s always confused me why you like that stuff. I mean, haven’t you ever wondered what the point of it all is?”
“The point of it is to know God and to obey his commands.”
“Why does everything always have to be about rules and regulations? Sometimes I feel so stifled in our church that I can’t breathe!” I shook the theology manual in the air and slammed it down on the bench. Pavel looked out the window at the rolling countryside.
“Well, the rules certainly haven’t stopped you from doing what you wanted before.”
I leaned back on the bench in our coupe and gave Pavel a smug look.
“You’re right about that. My parents have never known what to do with me. I’m still the naughty little boy they try to clean up on Sunday mornings.” Pavel rolled his eyes and sighed. “All I’m asking is that you try to have a little fun this week.” I offered the stolen book back and
Pavel snatched it protectively.
            “And what would you propose we do, go get drunk and raid the Kremlin?” Pavel fired.
I smirked at his twisted face.
            “You read my mind.” Before Pavel could respond, the door to our coupe opened and she walked in. She was average looking except for curly blonde hair that fell in ringlets around her face. She had a rare air of innocence that made her simple form strangely attractive. She was Pavel’s fiancée.
“I ordered the tea; the attendant said she would bring it in when it’s ready,” she said.
“Thank you Tanya,” said Pavel. He looked up to acknowledge her presence and then looked down again, his eyes a magnet to the book. She sighed and looked away, obviously hurt by her fiancé’s lack of interest.
“What’s your book about?” She attempted to avert his interest.
“Oh, I don’t think you’d like it. It’s pretty heavy stuff.”
“Whatever interests you interests me.” Her voice was soft, but she looked frustrated, and I chuckled at Pavel’s disinterest. I could never understand how he could prefer the company of a book to that of a woman. Even if she wasn’t the most stunning girl, she seemed sweet. She was a good fit for Pavel. If only he would give her attention. How on earth had he wooed her in the first place?
“Do not worry, Tanya,” I interjected. “I will do everything in my power to keep your theologian out of the books while we are in Moscow.” My lips curled slightly and I winked with the mischievous blue eyes that had won me so many battles in the past. She blushed in response. I saw how affected she was by me and I found it entertaining.  Oh, she tried to hide it, but her thoughts were written all over her face. I had almost forgotten how effortless it was for me to attract a woman.
“Well then, I am glad he has you for a friend,” she answered and looked down. She nervously smoothed her skirt while she waited for her crimson cheeks to cool down to their former color. Pavel remained oblivious to our little interlude.
“Alright. I’ll put the book away for now. We’re almost there anyway. Tanya, could you put it in your purse?” Pavel asked.
“Of course.” Tanya quickly forgot about me when she saw that Pavel was going to pay attention to her. Her eyes lit up like a golden retriever about to play fetch.
“Now what do you want to do tomorrow, sweetheart?”
Pavel was catching on. I’d still need to give him a few tips though. Not that I’d ever had any experience in long term relationships, but I knew how to keep a woman happy for at least a few weeks. Tanya answered.
“I would love to go to the Izmalova Bazaar. Papa went there last year and he brought home the most beautiful shawls.” She took Pavel’s arm and smiled contentedly.
“That sounds wonderful,” he said.
Chapter Two
The Bazaar at Izmalova Park was just like I remembered it as a little boy. Pavel and I had run through this very place ten years ago on a summer vacation with our families. To ten year old boys, the crowded mazes of vendors hawking colorful trinkets and souvenirs had been the perfect setting for adventure and mischief. I laughed as I remembered the time Pavel and I had hidden behind one of the vendor’s booths and were reamed out by a scowling old babushka with a distinct mustache. I thought it was funny, but Pavel cried.
No, not much had changed. The bazaar was as colorful and rustic as ever, calling to mind pictures of a gypsy caravan. It was Tanya’s first time there, and she was soaking it up with the wonder of a wide-eyed child. After all, that’s what she was.
“Oh, Pashka, this is beautiful!” She fingered a lavender shawl and looked at it longingly.
“You really like it?” said Pavel, responding with a smile to the sound of his pet name.
“I love it.”
“Then it’s yours.” Without missing a beat, Pavel handed the old man the required 300 rubles and fixed the scarf around Tanya’s neck. “You look very pretty, Tanya.”
“Thank you so much, Pashka.” Tanya looked contented as she slipped her hand through Pavel’s and continued to walk through the bazaar. I couldn’t help feeling something I couldn’t quite place at the sight of them. Was it pity? I saw the way Tanya worked to get Pavel’s attention. Was it jealousy? It had never occurred to me that maybe I would like to settle down, have a wife and family. For all my free living, I was surprised when I felt a twinge of longing for what Pavel and Tanya had.
My thoughts were interrupted by a woman’s shriek. A gunshot fired and everybody screamed. “There’s a madman! Everybody down!”  The bazaar erupted in chaos, and the crowded streets turned into a rampage as people tried to find a way out of the maze. Then I saw him. The gunman ran past me with a crazed look and aimed the gun at Pavel. He fired and my friend went down.
“Pashka!” Tanya hovered over her fallen fiancé and dragged him out of the flow of people so he wouldn’t be trampled. I pushed through the people and joined Tanya, who was now covering Pavel with her body and sobbing hysterically. “Don’t die Pashka, please don’t die!” Pavel groaned faintly and tried to get up but failed, and he let himself fall back into Tanya’s arms. His blood stained her white blouse as she held him close to her.
“He just got my leg. I think I’ll be okay.” Pavel’s voice was distant and weathered. Tanya didn’t move, lost in her crazed emotions. The flow of frantic people had thinned and the gunman had been restrained by two gruff officers. I tried to calm her down.
“Tanya, it’s alright, it’s alright. He’s going to be okay.” She stood up and looked at me with red, desperate eyes. I couldn’t help but offer her comfort. I opened my arms, and she collapsed in them. For a minute, I forgot all about Pavel, all about the bazaar, and all I could think of was how good Tanya felt in my arms. So sweet. So young. And so vulnerable. After five seconds of bliss, I reluctantly released her and forced myself to pay attention to the matter at hand.
“We’ll get you to a hospital, Pavel. Tanya, I’ll wrap up the wound, you go get a taxi ready.” I took charge and Tanya found a way to pull herself together. She ran sobbing toward the exit. “Don’t worry; it’s going to be all right.” I tried to assure Pavel as I wrapped his wound in a piece of fabric I had ripped off my shirt.
“Thanks Nikita. You’re a good friend.”
Chapter Three
“Are you sure he’s going to be alright?” Tanya asked the nurse for the second time. The nurse gave Tanya a detached, slightly annoyed look.
“He’ll be fine. Like I said, the bullet didn’t hit any arteries. He’ll just need to stay in bed for a while.” The nurse looked down at Pavel’s sleeping form and wrote something on her chart.
“He really needs his rest you know,” she looked up at us through thick-rimmed glassed. “There’s nothing else you can do.” I could tell she was trying to shoo us out. The prospect did seem rather appealing. I was getting a little hungry. Besides, there was really nothing we could do, and Pavel’s unfortunate run in with the escaped madman had already put a damper on the week.
            “So you think we should leave?” I offered.
            “Like I said, there’s nothing more you can do. Let him get his rest and you can come visit him tomorrow.” The nurse looked about ready to pounce on us. I didn’t mind. Tanya, on the other hand, looked torn. This would take some convincing, but it wouldn’t be too hard. I smirked as I remembered her reaction to me on the train. Oh, no, this would be a piece of cake.
            “Tanya, we really should leave him to rest. Let’s at least go get something to eat. You look like you need a pick-me up.”
            “Are you sure?”
            “Pavel would want you to enjoy yourself. This is your first time in Moscow! And besides, he’s really going to be alright.”
            “Well, okay, I am kind of hungry.”
            It was even easier than I thought. As we left the hospital room I turned to wink at the form of my sleeping friend. “Get better old boy.” Pavel was going to get his rest, but as for me, I was going to have some fun. And try to help Tanya have some too.
Chapter Four
            “Nikita, this restaurant is too nice.” Tanya twirled a blonde ringlet around her finger. The dim lighting of the swanky restaurant made her look like an angel.
            “You’re welcome,” I said.
            “No, I mean it’s too fancy. How will you pay? What will Pashka think?”
            “Pavel would be happy if you were having a good time. Now just try to relax. I mean, how many times have you been to a place like this before?”
            “Actually, never.” Her lips turned up in an innocent smile and I saw her body relax.
            “That’s what I thought. You see Tanya, you’re a very sheltered girl.”
            “What’s that supposed to mean?” She tensed up again and looked at me in question.
            “What I mean is, my dear, you haven’t tasted life.” Her eyes got wide and defensive, and she stamped her heeled foot on the ground.
            “Of course I have! What do you mean?” A trendy couple in their early thirties looked over at us, snickering at Tanya’s outburst. Before I could respond, our waiter interrupted us.
            “Good evening. What would you like to drink this evening, sir?”
            “We’ll have two glasses of your best wine, thank you.”
 I almost laughed out loud when I saw the look of horror on Tanya’s face.
            “Nikita, no!” She turned to the waiter who now had a confused look on his face.
            “I won’t have any wine. I’ll just have a cup of tea with two sugars please.” The waiter scratched out the first order and rolled his eyes as he left to go get the drinks.
            “Nikita! What are you thinking? Alcohol? What if your father finds out?” Her words now told me that she was not only sheltered from the outside world, but she was also sheltered from the happenings of her own community. Although my father tried to do the best he could to cover up that his son was not exactly following the Ten Commandments, I still had quite a reputation in my closely interconnected Baptist community. And with the way those babushkas wagged their tongues, I was surprised she hadn’t caught wind of the rumors about me. But this was good. I could use it to my advantage.
            “Tanya, has it ever occurred to you that you don’t always have to follow the rules? There’s nothing wrong with having a little wine.”
            “Just because I haven’t tasted alcohol doesn’t mean I haven’t tasted life.” Her eyes ignited in a fire I hadn’t seen until now, a fire I could tell had been suppressed by all her years of blind submission. I could tell by her words that she did want to taste life, even if she didn’t yet know what it meant. If she didn’t get out now, the fire would soon be snuffed out and she would live a bland, obedient life. She had so much potential! Oh, if only she would let go.
            “Alright, well tell me about yourself a little Tanya. It’s strange that we’d never met before this. We only lived a few towns from each other our whole lives.”
            “Well, Pavel probably told you that I grew up right across the street from my church in Bryansk. My papa is a pastor there. I have four younger brothers and my grandmother lives with us.”
            “And what do you like to do Tanya? What is your passion in life?” She looked at me like I had spoken Arabic. Her questioning eyes suggested that no one had ever asked her what she wanted before. From what I gathered, she was the kind of girl who was always asking others what they wanted, and because of it, they took advantage of her. Maybe I could help her find that passion somehow. Maybe I could help fan that flame I saw in her naïve eyes.
            “Passion. I wouldn’t describe anything in my life that way. It sounds almost evil the way you put it. But I have always wanted to be a wife and mother.”
            “Oh Tanya, I would love to open up a whole new world to you, one you don’t even know exists. We’re in Moscow right now, but have you ever thought of traveling to Europe, or even to America? Have you ever picked up a pen and tried to write? Have you ever even gone dancing?”
            “No.” Her soft answer spoke volumes. I saw in her eyes the glorious realization that there was something bigger out there, something beyond her experience.
            “So everything in your life revolved around your family and the church, am I right?” I questioned her.
            “Yes, it did. My church is like my family.”
            “And how did you feel about all the rules imposed on you? Did you ever feel that you were being limited?”
            “I don’t know. I was always very content. I never thought of it like that.” She shuffled in her seat.
            “Tanya, dig deep. I can see something in your eyes that you’re afraid to let out. Don’t be scared.”
            “Well, it seems kind of silly, but school was always hard for me, but not because of the work. I always got good grades. It was Papa. He made me wear skirts to school every day. He never let me touch a drop of makeup. I always felt out of place there with all the other girls, when they were dyeing their hair and wearing jeans. Sometimes they even made fun of me.”
            “Go on.”
            “And, I think you’re right Nikita. I always wanted to be the good girl that never gave my family a problem. I always wanted to please my father. But no matter how much I followed the rules, nothing ever seemed to be enough for him. I felt like he wanted me to be perfect, and so I tried.”
            “No one is perfect, Tanya, and it’s those who think they’re perfect who are the plague of our society.”
            “There was one time, actually, my friend Natasha and I dreamed about traveling to America. We thought we could go and work there as nurses, marry rich American men.” Her eyes lit up and I knew I was seeing a rare glance into the world of her dreams. How sad it was that the light in her eyes would soon be quelled by the redundancy of married life. I could hardly bear it.
            “And what happened to that dream?”
            “I met Pavel.”
            Silence ensued and Tanya looked down at the floor again. Questions that she had never been allowed to ask were no doubt careening through her mind. The waiter appeared and placed a gleaming glass of red wine in front of me. He put Tanya’s plain black tea in front of her. I took a swig of my wine and she followed by timidly taking a sip of the steaming liquid.
            “How does it taste?”
            “Fine,” she answered.
“Really?” My double meaning was not lost on her, but she still stubbornly resisted. I took another draught of my wine. “Delicious, absolutely delicious. But enough about our drinks. Tell me more about how you met Pavel.”
“It’s simple enough. Last year at the Baptist convention our church holds, my father introduced me to Pavel. He was so kind to me, and I loved to listen to him preach. Such powerful words for such a young man! We spent a lot of time together that week, and by the end of the month, he had proposed.”
“I’ll bet your father was happy. Adding another pastor to the family, I mean.”
“Oh, he was, but Pavel was happier.”
“And were you happy?”
“Of course I was! Who wouldn’t be happy to marry a kind, reliable young man like Pavel?”
“I’m just saying, it doesn’t sound like the fairy tale most girls dream of.” She bit her lip and looked off into the distance. Her eyes hinted at moistness, and her teacup shook in her hand. “Tanya, I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“No. You are absolutely right.” She put her teacup down and leaned forward. “It’s all making sense now. I’ve had so many hidden dreams, such a longing for adventure, and I’ve pushed it down because I never thought it would come true. I can’t think about it! I can’t! It’s too depressing Nikita! My whole life is planned out for me, and like you said, I’ll never travel; I’ll never be a nurse in America. And I’ll never even get the chance to dance. One time I asked Pavel what he thought, and he said it was sinful.” As tears streamed down her reddening cheeks, she looked lovelier than any woman I had ever seen. All of a sudden this Baptist housewife-to-be had turned into a blonde angel with passionate dreams. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. She didn’t resist.
“Tanya, listen to me. Just for tonight, forget about Pavel. Forget about your family. Forget about your church. Just for one night, let me show you how brilliant life can be. You deserve it.” She wiped her eyes with her free hand and looked me straight in the eyes. I shivered at her sudden transformation.
“Can I have a sip of your wine?” She said, her voice still quivering. I smiled at her and passed the wine glass to her.
“You can finish it,” I said. She put the glass to her lips, and to my surprise, she tipped the glass and finished it in one gulp. Surprised by the taste, she spurted red wine everywhere, drawing the attention of all in the restaurant. She was absolutely mortified and clapped a hand to her mouth. I could barely contain myself. The look on her face suggested that she had just committed a murder. I burst out in rolling laughter.
“So how was it?” I teased, touching her hand again, testing my limits.
She dropped her hand and me in the eyes. “I like it.” Now she began to laugh. Before long, anyone walking by would hear the sound of her joyous laughter filling the night, but they wouldn’t know that they were hearing the sound of a woman liberated. At least that’s what I thought at the time.

Chapter Five
The neon lights of nighttime Moscow flashed past in a blur as we careened through the city in a taxi with clearly questionable brakes. After two and a half glasses of wine, the new Tanya was noticeably tipsy. And she was having the time of her life.
“Where are we going now?” she giggled and grabbed my hand.
“It’s a surprise,” I winked and pulled her a little closer. We were going to Rai, or “Paradise,” one of the hottest nightclubs in Moscow. I couldn’t wait to see her reaction. The taxi dropped us off at the street of the club. The smell of smoke lingered in the crisp Moscow air as we walked to the entrance.
We entered the club under a flashing red “RAI” marquis. I sighed in contentment. I was at home. American dance music blared in the room along with a beating strobe light whose colors alternated. Couples danced closely to the electric beat, and men in leather jackets sat off to the side drinking beers and gaping at the scantily clad women dancing on the stage. Tanya’s eyes were wide. I doubt she even knew a place like this existed.
“What do you think?” I said.
“I don’t even know what to say. Papa would say this is sinful.”
“Remember. Just let go tonight. Come on, let’s dance.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the dance floor.
“I’ve never danced before, Nikita.”
“It’s easy. Just move with the music.” She started out apprehensively at first, swaying to the techno beat and tapping her foot. I saw her watching other people out of the corner of her eye to copy what they were doing. She caught on quickly. The wine probably helped ease her apprehensions. Before long, she was moving her body to the music like a natural, and I was entranced. This was not the girl Pavel was marrying. This was a vivacious, beautiful butterfly that hadn’t known it was possible to break out of her cocoon. The music slowed down, and a soft, sultry melody wafted through the smoky club. I lost all delusions of self-control and pulled her close. To my pleasure, she didn’t resist.
“Tanya,” I whispered in her ear, “I like you like this.” I felt her pulse beating wildly through her wrist and I drew her closer.
“Me too,” she whispered back.
“Oh, Tanya, you’re so beautiful when you’re dancing like that. Absolutely breathtaking.” Her muscles tensed, but she didn’t pull away.
“Don’t say that. What would Pavel think?”
“I don’t think Pavel would ever say anything like that. I don’t think he sees you for the captivating, beautiful woman that you are.”
“You’re right. Pavel would never say anything like that to me. But he loves me.” I let go of her in frustration.
“In his way, he does. But Tanya, how do I make you feel?”  She was silent, frozen. “I know what you’re feeling, because I’m feeling it too. Your heart is beating right out of your chest. Has Pavel ever made you feel that way?”
“No.”
“Well, you deserve to.” And right there in the middle of that nightclub, I bent down and kissed Tanya with all the passion that had built up in me through the night. I wrapped my arms around her and felt her surrender, but just for a moment. She pulled away, breathless, and looked at me with a mix of desire and horror in her eyes. She turned and ran through the club, barely missing the people swaying to the never-ending, droning techno beat. I zigzagged through the chaos and found her running down the street, almost in hysterics.
“Tanya!” I yelled breathlessly. “Wait.” I regained hope as I saw her slow. I caught up with her on the bridge where she was standing, overlooking the river. Moscow nightlife shone in its neon garishness and her innocent figure seemed an anachronism in such a place. I knew I had lost ground, but I could regain it. Pavel would never know. Pavel would never need to know. I had done this many times before, and nothing bad had ever come of it. It was only right that I give this poor, suppressed girl one night of happiness before she was subjected to a life of monotony. If God was real, then he wouldn’t condemn humanity to the sort of suffering that was everyday life. No, God was just an excuse to take power, as was the case with my father. Tanya spoke.
“I can never go back now, Nikita. Before this week, I was so naïve! I thought I was happy, but now…and God, will he ever forgive me?”
“Shh…” I drew her into my arms and let her cry on my shoulder. “Just one more kiss.”
She backed away from me, but I could see the desire in her eyes. I stepped toward her slowly, and she stayed put, her eyes wide. “Just one more kiss,” I repeated.
She surrendered. She surrendered completely.
Chapter Six
Three Months Later
I didn’t think anything would come of what happened that night in Moscow. As far as I knew, Tanya hadn’t said a word to Pavel and she was still busily preparing for her wedding. I hadn’t seen her since our rendezvous; I made sure of it, as much as for my sake as for hers. Because the following days were nothing like what I had expected. I had had countless flings and more than a few one-night stands,  but none had given me cause to regret, much less think about months later. And that was because Tanya was different, different than those women I pursued, different than me. Before that night, I had never before lived with any regrets. Now, all that consumed my mind from morning to night was that pained, broken look on Tanya’s face the following morning when we left the hotel to go check on Pavel.
“Oh Nikita, what just happened?” She gripped her head and burst into tears. “What was wrong with me last night? I want to kill myself. God will never forgive me. Pavel will never forgive me. I am such a sinful woman!”
I should have expected it. I had called her naïve when I was the one who had no foresight of the tempest my actions would bring. The night at the club I had seen Tanya transformed into an empowered woman, but in the morning, she was more fragile and broken than I had ever seen a human being. And it was all my fault. Yes, she had surrendered, but only because I had used my experience to take advantage of her naiveté. Because of me, her heart lay wounded and bloody. Because of me, she would be haunted by a secret that she could never tell her husband. I had betrayed my friend and I had sucked the life out of his fiancée. For the first time since I was a little boy, I felt desperate enough to pray, if God did exist. “God, if you’re there- please, please help me. Help her. I know I messed everything up.”
I didn’t hear any revelatory proclamations from the clouds, but somehow, the simple prayer made me feel better. I needed to press on past this and get on with my life. Maybe I should move, go to America and work. But I knew that was impossible. For all my conflict with my family, I did love them. Theirs was the only way of life I knew, and if I left, somehow I would be lost. But the question now was, what would I do? Every day the secret haunted me more and more, and whenever I saw Pavel my stomach churned and I was sure he could see right through me. But as it turned out, I didn’t have to decide.  
My question was answered for me when I was playing in the backyard with my younger brothers. The day was warm, sunny, and perfect, and the sultry breeze mocked my inner turmoil. She let herself in quietly through the gate, and I didn’t notice her presence until she tapped me lightly on the shoulder. I turned to the specter of the girl I had known on that night three months ago. Her eyes were heavy and filled with sleeplessness. My heart reached out to her, but at the same time I cringed. Something wasn’t right.
“He knows,” she whispered.
“What?” I didn’t want to believe it.
“Pavel knows, Nikita.”
“How?”  Anger and fear gripped me. “Did you tell him? Tanya, I thought you weren’t going to tell!”
“I couldn’t help it!”
“What do you mean?” I softened my tone as I saw her big blue eyes fill with tears.
Tanya looked at me in silence for a moment and took a deep breath.
“I’ll just say it Nikita. I’ll just say it. I’m pregnant.” I stood there speechless, not understanding. Her face fell to pieces as she saw reality confront me. I turned away from her, overcome, and bent over, putting my hands on my knees. She ran around to face me and tried to lift my face up with a gentle hand.
“Are you sure?” I whispered, my breath ragged and heavy.
“I’m sure, Nikita, I’m sure.”  She began to cry, a pitiful hopeless whimpering. I opened my arms to her, as much for support as in an attempt to comfort her.
“What will we- what will I do?” She struggled to speak between heaving breaths.
“I don’t know.” I held her close for minutes, but they felt like hours, hours of sinking into the evil unknown.
“Pavel says he won’t marry me anymore.”
 A current of anger ran through me. How could Pavel act so high and mighty and then discard the girl he was supposed to love in her time of need? But really, I think my anger was a cover up for the truth that I didn’t want to admit. Because Pavel wouldn’t marry her, because Pavel knew the truth, she was my responsibility. I had never had a responsibility before.
“I don’t know what to do, Nikita. Nothing will ever be the same again. Papa threatened to disown me, and the look on Mama’s face when I told her broke my heart. Nobody will ever marry me now, and my family’s name will be ruined. Nothing will ever be normal again.” It was clear that not only her life lay in the balance, but I didn’t care about her father, her mother, or her church. But when I looked at her shaking, sobbing body, her red eyes and desperate gaze, I melted with guilt. This was my fault.
“Tanya, I really do care. I’m so sorry.” She suddenly pushed me away and looked at me with an angry fire in her eyes.
“I should have seen through you from the start. What was I thinking? Because of you, Pavel won’t marry me! Because of you, I will never be married. Because of you, I’ll be
scorned for the rest of my life! You wanted me to taste life. Your version of life is the bitterest brew possible!”
            Her words burned like hell. They burned because they were so true.  How had I ever thought that seducing her was harmless fun? How had I ever thought we could both leave unscathed? What was I doing with my life? I recoiled in disgust at myself, feeling a claustrophobia and dirtiness inside. I needed to change. I needed to be a man. And just maybe, I needed to turn to God. And right now, I needed to take responsibility and make sure that this innocent girl’s life wasn’t ruined because of me.
            “I will never have a normal life.” She had calmed down; she had given up. She was trying to resign herself to her fate and her blazing eyes were replaced by languid, mournful orbs of hopelessness.
It was now or never. I took a deep breath and forced myself to proceed before I talked myself out of it. “It doesn’t have to be that way.” I knelt before her, humbling myself before the angel whom I had taken so much from. “Tatiana Grigorevna Chernova, will you marry me?” I looked up into her eyes just in time to see her angry palm collide with my face. I recoiled from her slap and held my cheek, burning with its due punishment. Apparently my blue eyes had lost their enchanting effects.
“You confuse me! How could I marry you, now that I know what kind of person you are?” She was absolutely right. How could I ask such a thing? But I had to at least try.
“Tanya, you’re right. I am disgusted at the things I have done, how I hurt you. I can’t believe how cruel I was three months ago. I know I can never repay you for all I’ve taken, but I want to do everything I can to make it up to you. I know it will be hard, but we can make this work. God will help us.” I was more surprised than she at my last sentence. God will help us. Would he really help us? How could he even stand to look at me after what I had done?  But if he was as great as my papa said he was, just maybe he could help make sense of this mess.
She stepped away from me and sat on the dirty ground. “I guess it’s my only choice. I will marry you Nikita.” Her voice was distant, her eyes looking off to some distant dimension beyond my perception.
“I know things don’t look good now, but I promise Tanya, I will do my best to be a good husband. You will be a wonderful mother, and I hope that someday, we can be happy.”
“I hope so too,” she said. I tentatively reached for her hand, and she didn’t pull away, but gingerly took it. “Maybe there is hope.”
Chapter Seven
Three Weeks Later
Light flooded our little Baptist church and cast angelic light on Tanya as she floated down the aisle, bouquet in hand. She walked with grace and dignity, and the seriousness of the step we were about to make lodged a lump in my throat. My palms became clammy and for a moment I was tempted to run from the church, run from this little town, run far away from the responsibility and reality that lay ahead. I knew I wasn’t ready for this. I knew I didn’t deserve her. But there was something right about it that I couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the knowledge that Tanya now had a new start, a second chance. Maybe that would be worth it. Of course there were rumors, but that is what they stayed, rumors. No one could prove the cause of Tanya’s sudden separation with Pavel and her marriage to me, and she remained blameless in the eyes of the congregation. As she was to me.
 I relaxed my clenched fists and let my eyes take in the details of my bride’s delicate face. She caught my gaze and I shivered as I felt the weight of countless meanings in her eyes. Underneath her simple, unassuming countenance were deep layers that I knew would take a lifetime to discover. If she would let me. As Tanya walked closer to me in that simple white gown, an unfamiliar feeling welled up somewhere that I didn’t know existed. I felt a desire to know her, to understand her joy and her hurt. Perhaps it was the beginning of love. When she reached the end of the aisle and took my hand, she smiled at me. It was not the joyful smile that most brides exude on their wedding day. It was tinged with melancholy and apprehension. But it was genuine. As she looked into my eyes I saw the faint beginnings of hope for the future. I pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “Tanya, I want to start a new life with you by my side.” And I meant it with all of my being.
“I’d like that very much,” Tanya breathed in a whisper only I could hear. I think she meant it too.
 As we walked out of the church that day as husband and wife, I too felt an unexpected hope. In spite of the guilt that still burdened me, the future seemed to hint at the promise of something unknown, but good. As my bride looked at me with blue eyes full of forgiveness and expectation, I knew it was time to discard my old life and embrace a new one, whatever it might hold. I knew that I had a lot to learn. But I wanted to. I wanted to change. I wanted to know this woman standing beside me.  I didn’t know what it was or how I would find it, but I knew that I was finally ready to taste life.