The Summer Garden (86 page)

“Tatiana, I’m going to repeat
again
,” he said, panting, “I didn’t have sex with her.”

“I’m going to repeat again, I don’t believe a word you say—so stop speaking! She’s lying is she? Are you often accused of knocking up women you have no business with? So what were you doing with her last Friday until six in the morning? Just having a drink? A little smoke? Getting her up the stick with your cigarette?” She exhaled her misery, still bent over, clutching her stomach, unable to look up or straighten up. When he said nothing was when she lifted her eyes. “Those were not rhetorical questions,” she said scathingly. “I would like an answer.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

“That’s right! How about, you’ve been banging her for months. Her, anyone, everyone, every Friday night. So convenient for you—Ant’s away, I’m away. You never would have told me about this either. Just happened to be caught this time, weren’t you?”

“Stop it!” Alexander didn’t know how to calm her down, he didn’t know how to calm himself down. “This is crazy! I didn’t have sex with her. And you know she is lying because you know she can’t be pregnant by me.”

“I don’t know it at all,” said Tatiana. “Your lies are what I know.”

“You
know
it!” Alexander yelled. “I can’t believe I even have to tell you this, for
fuck’s
sake! For fuck’s sake!”

“Oh, yes, scream at me, good!” she screamed, holding on to the car and pointing to the house. “Your son is inside. What, he isn’t traumatized enough?”

“Oh, plenty traumatized,” Alexander said, lower and through his teeth. “And why not? His mother never comes home. He must think he’s an orphan again.”

Gasping, she came at him with violence on her face and hands. There was no getting away from her jabbing fists, from her frenzied arms. “I can’t
believe
,” she said, her face streaming, “I left my baby to go and find
you
. I can’t believe I chose such a heartless bastard over my boy. I wish to God I had never gone. You with your ugly fucked-up
faithless
heart, you should be rotting in Kolyma, gang raping the
male
loggers there—that should be your fate, instead of coming here to betray
me
!”

Alexander rammed her against the car, his hand on her throat. A red veil covered his sight. He wasn’t just hot anymore, smoke was coming out of his pores. “Oh my God,” he said, gripping her neck. “Will you never fucking stop?”

“Will
you
never fucking stop? Get away from me,” she said hoarsely, choking, trying to pull away from his hands. He let go. She was coughing.

“Why are you still here? Quick. Go to your Carmen. She and her tits are waiting for you.” Insane she came for him again, and Alexander didn’t know how to stop her when he himself was so close to the void. He moved his face away slightly, put his hands up slightly. His only advantage was his height because she was unstoppable. She seized his T-shirt; he yanked away, and the shirt ripped, tore from top to bottom. She hit him in the chest, in the stomach. He’d had enough.

“Tania,” he said, grabbing her wrists, “that’s it. Stop it.”

“No!”

He squeezed her wrists harder and harder but she didn’t cry out. Instead she stood like she was numb and without flinching said, “
Break
them. Go ahead. Everything else I got, you broke.”

He pushed her away but she was right back on him. “I’m warning you,” he said, pushing her away again, keeping her literally at arm’s length. “Get away from me—”

“
You
get away from me,” she said, choking on her tears and her words. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Nothing I ever gave you was enough. All
we
had, all I gave you, all that
I
gave you was not enough!” She went to strike him with her right fist, he half-blocked her and she struck him with her left, and he took it because he deserved it.

“There is no hope for us,” said Tatiana. “I will not live like this. I will
never
live like this. Loyalty was your
only
condition for a life with me, and you knew it when you went and fucked another woman, degraded me, and showed me exactly what I’m worth, which is
nothing
—and what you’re worth, which is
nothing
. So now pack your bags and go where you want, go where you belong. It’s not with me. I don’t care what you do anymore.”

Alexander
had
to get away from her—she wasn’t the only one whose judgment was about to be vanquished by her anger. She, having lost all reason, was saying things to deprive him of all reason. “
Listen
to me! Are you fucking deaf? I will repeat—
once again
—I didn’t have sex with her! I didn’t have sex with her!”

“Repeat ad nauseam—but it’s her word against yours, Alexander,” Tatiana said, her face distorted, her body shaking. “That’s all I got. Your word against hers. And we now know what your word is worth, don’t we? Not even a breath on which it’s uttered. Unholy lies on your side, and she says she is pregnant—do you understand—
pregnant
!” She was overcome, devastated; she couldn’t continue.

“Well, at least someone around here is getting pregnant,” Alexander said through clenched teeth, bending in his own stricken fury. “And it didn’t take fifteen fucking years.”

“Like I’d keep any baby that was yours!” cried Tatiana. “I’d take a coat hanger to it before I kept one of your babies!”

Alexander hit her so hard across the face that she reeled sideways and fell to the ground.

Blinded he stood over her. Guttural sounds were coming from his throat. Her arms covered her head. “You have stepped out of all bounds, all decency,” he said, yanking her up. “I can’t believe how much you hate me.” When he flung her away from him, Tatiana couldn’t get her balance and fell again on the pebbled stones, shaking her head, mouthing something, trying to stand up, crawl away. But Alexander had lost his mind. Growling in his helpless rage, he came after her, bent over her, shoved her back down onto the ground, swung out his open hand—

And from behind Anthony came running up to him, knocking him away. “Don’t touch my mother!” he yelled.

Alexander pushed his son aside. Fleetingly he remembered himself fighting with his own father, just like this, over his own mother, just like this, twenty-five years earlier in Leningrad, on the very edge of their deaths. There was only one difference. Alexander was not Harold Barrington.

“Anthony,” he said, grabbing the boy and nearly lifting him in the air as he pushed him toward the deck, “what the fuck are you doing? What did I tell you?”

Anthony ripped away from Alexander. “Don’t you dare hurt my mother,” he said, clenching his fists.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Alexander yelled. “How many times do I have to say it? Can we have one minute of privacy? One fucking minute! I told you to stay inside! GO!” Grabbing Anthony, he pushed him through the door, down the corridor and into his room, where he shoved him on the bed, and said, “Who do you think you’re dealing with? Stay in your fucking room.”

“Don’t hurt my mother,” whispered Anthony, crying into Alexander’s back. “
Please
.”

Alexander somehow managed not to go out front to her. Blinded, he groped his way to the back door, and stormed panting outside.

Tatiana got herself off the ground and, holding on to the deck railing, stumbled her way to the bathroom. She wanted to go comfort Anthony but she didn’t want him to see her like this. She remained alone for many minutes, trying to pull herself together. Alexander had hit her very hard. She cleaned the blood from her mouth as best she could. From her temple down to her jaw, her eye, her nose, her mouth, nothing was uninjured. Her ear was ringing deafening bells in her head. Her whole body was throbbing.

Finally she went to see her son. Tatiana knew very well his conflicted dual allegiance to his parents. Tonight it was tearing Anthony up; he was inconsolable. Tatiana listened to him, nodded, said, I know, and yes, it’s like this and like that. “You’re a child. Let the grown-ups try to solve their messes. Dad told you—why did you disobey? Stay in your room, he said.”

“Mom, don’t go near him again, stay away from him. Leave him alone. For God’s sake, he shot a man
dead
.”

“Anthony, he shot more than one man dead. Every one of the marks on his body is nothing compared to what he has seen and done in his short life, in the rivers, in the lakes, house to house, door to door, and yes, hand to hand. You know about your father. I’ve told you enough times. He saved you and me, we left him behind, and he was nearly destroyed. This is what’s left.”

“Stop making excuses for him.”

“Don’t you want me to make excuses for him?” she asked in a breath.

“I don’t know anymore,” Anthony whispered.

Me neither, Ant, Tatiana thought. Me neither. She caressed her son’s face. She was not in control, she was doing what she could for the boy. “Your dad’s lived a brutal life. He’s doing the best he can. I’m making no excuses. I’m telling you once again to stay out of our business.”

He turned away from her, his shoulders heaving.

“All your life, Anthony, from the time you were small, you’ve tried to get between our grown-up words, our fights, as if it’s your responsibility to moderate us. Well, it isn’t. It’s ours.”

“Mama, are you…very upset with him?”

“I’m not going to speak about it to you. You’re young. When I was fourteen, I also knew so little. But believe me, one day you’ll understand.” She swallowed. “The power you have over someone who loves you,” said Tatiana, “is greater than any other power you’ll ever have.” She fought to continue. “You know—you’ve known all your life—that your father has that power over me.” She lowered her head. “But yes, Anthony, yes, darling. I am very upset with him.”

Anthony continued to cry. From the outside, Tatiana heard breaking booming noises. They were piercing her.

She left the son and walked unsteadily outside to the father.

Alexander was taking the deck table to the stump. Holding on to the railing, she watched the axe go up and down. He didn’t stop until the table was shattered into splintered fragments.

“Alexander…”

“Don’t come near me.”

He walked up the deck, picked up the wooden rocking bench he had built for them, raised it above his head and hurled it crashing to the ground. Jumping over the railing, he grabbed his dropped axe and hacked the bench on which they had sat and rocked every night, his axe flying like a scythe up and down through the night air, slicing apart their life.

Then he came for her, gasping, panting.

Seeing his wild eyes, Tatiana backed away but, tripping over her own hasty feet, slipped to the floor of the deck. “Alexander, stop it!” she cried, her hands up. “I can’t finish this with you when you’re like this.”

“You want to finish it with me, do you?” he said. “Well, come on then, I’m your man, finish it.” His black shirt was hanging in matted shreds on him, his fatigues were soiled, his fists clenched, his arms raised. “Here I am—go ahead, Tatiana, stand up and fucking finish it.”

“Please! You’re
scaring
me…” She was having trouble getting the words out through her numb jaw. She was down on the deck, trembling, her hands at her face. “
Please
, get hold of yourself.”

“I was telling and telling you—you have to get hold of
your
self,” he said, towering over her, utterly unrepentant. “Did you fucking listen? I don’t think so. And believe me, this
is
hold of myself. Now stand up.” He took a menacing step toward her; his boots were at her bare feet. “Stand up, I said.”

“Okay. Okay. Just—” He needed her to stand up, she struggled up, grabbing on to the railing and managing to pull herself to her feet. Tiny she stood, terrified and shaking in front of drenched heaving enormous unhinged him, and did the only thing she ever did when she didn’t know how to make things better but when she wanted to calm, to comfort, to bring impossible things down to a possible level. Slowly she opened her hands. “Here I am, Shura,” Tatiana whispered, her face up, her palms up. “Here I am. Okay? I’m not shouting anymore.”

“Yes, you’re a paragon of virtue,” Alexander said, looking away from her face. “Calm and you, like birds of a feather.” But he withdrew, one step, two. His hand gripped the railing. “Why are you here?” he asked. “You can’t possibly have anything else to say. You’ve said it all, every last fucking thing you could think of. Hope you’re proud of yourself. Hope you’re happy with yourself.”

Tatiana didn’t know what to say.
The thing I said, you know I didn’t mean it
, she whispered inaudibly, only her mouth moving.
I’m just in pain.
He didn’t hear. She couldn’t speak and stand at the same time, barely having the strength for one. Hoping it wouldn’t upset him again, she whispered,
Shh, shh
as she sank to the deck. Alexander panted, struggling for breath, and she tried to find the voice in her chest.

At last she found it. “This is your house,” said Tatiana. “I won’t tell you to leave your house again. Don’t break the furniture you built with your hands.” It was too late for that. All the wood furniture he had made for the deck was gone, except for one lonely chair in the corner. “
I’ll
go,” she said. “I’ll take Ant and we’ll go. Then I’ll figure out what to do.” Her mouth twisted, she lowered her head.

His mouth twisted, Alexander lowered his. Both his hands now gripped the railing. “I see. So you weren’t
quite
finished. You still have some evil left.” He nodded. “Quite a bottomless pit inside you, isn’t there?” He paused. “What’s next? Are you about to tell me you’ll take Anthony and go stay with your fucking doctor until you figure out what to do?” His liquid eyes pools of despair, Alexander stood looking at her as if waiting for her to answer. But she remained silent. Not a sound came from Tatiana.

After a short disbelieving gasp, he said, “So what are you waiting for? Would you like me to help you pack?” His voice trembled. “Or first give you my hand to help you off the ground?”