“This was his cousin President Teddy Roosevelt, forty years ago,” the aide explained. “He lost a favorite ring there, so he put an ad in the paper: Golden ring lost near Boulder Bridge in Rock Creek. If found, return to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Ask for Teddy.” He guffawed, and so did the students from Montreal. “The ring never turned up . . .”
I smiled, taking a deep breath to smell the fresh-cut grass, letting the aide press a sandwich into my hand—a sausage roll the Americans called a hot dog. American food looked Technicolor-bright to me, like it had been molded in plastic rather than cooked. “Not bad,” I said, swallowing my first bite. “Actual dog?”
“Mrs. Pavlichenko, you’re a card!”
“What? They eat worse than dog in Leningrad by now.” As party chitchat went, that observation went over like a lead balloon, as the Americans liked to say, but Mrs. Roosevelt rescued me, smoothing the moment over.
“You know,” she said, drawing me to one side, “I’ve been planning this conference a long while now. The idea was to promote American values in the context of international youth . . . but you Russians have changed that plan.”
I took a sip of my Coca-Cola through a straw. Too sweet and too cold, like sucking on sugared razor blades. “How, ma’am?”
“All you delegates are eloquent”—ha, that was a lie; she was as bored by Krasavchenko’s droning as I was—“but you Russians have a particular passion when you speak about the war, Lyudmila dear. It nearly hurts to listen to you.”
“I am sorry if it hurts to hear truth,” I began stiffly, but she put a pacifying hand on my arm.
“No, it’s good if it hurts us. We Americans are used to viewing war from a distance—the privilege of living, as Chancellor Otto von Bismarck once said, with less powerful neighbors to the north and south, and nothing to the east and west but fish. Even the terrible attack on our own Pearl Harbor came thousands of miles away. You have helped put a visible face on the price of war viewed inside one’s homeland. The bleeding and suffering of neighbors and loved ones in their own cities . . . You make it real and impossible to ignore. Thank you for that.”
She paused, but I said nothing. I still wasn’t entirely sure how to treat her, this observant lady who was so evidently bent on charming us all. President Roosevelt might have been a man of privilege, but his crippled legs had clearly left him with a keen understanding of suffering. I wasn’t so sure about the First Lady. She was very friendly, very clever, very complimentary when she spoke of putting a visible face on war—but what did she know of it, really?
And I still hadn’t forgotten her statement to me that first day over the breakfast table. Whether I could see the faces of my enemies through my sights, and whether that would make it difficult for Americans to like me.
She smiled, not offended by my silence. “It’s my hope that our whole country will hear what you have to say.”
“But we return to Moscow in a few days.” I couldn’t wait. This celebration on the White House green would be the end, and I was glad. The Washington journey might have had its pleasant moments, but I wanted home soil under my feet again. I wanted to know I was at least on the same continent as my Slavka.
“Your ambassador has yet to brief you officially, but other plans have been—” The First Lady broke off as Alexei bowed his way into our conversation.
“Do pardon me to the First Lady,” he whispered in Russian with a bow over her hand. “I need to steal you away for a moment, kroshka. I’ve been asked to show you the Rose Garden before President Roosevelt arrives and the evening goes to chaos.”
I was about to tell him that I had no intention of strolling any roses with him ever, but the First Lady broke in. She didn’t speak any Russian beyond da, nyet, and spasibo, but she’d heard her husband’s name. “Is he asking when the President is coming down?” she asked, looking at me. “He won’t be able to drop by tonight as he planned, unfortunately. Some other business intruded—but never fear, you’ll all have other chances to meet with him.” She broke into a wide smile. “At my urging, the President has invited the entire Soviet delegation to extend their stay. You will tour more of our cities to give greater publicity to your fight against Hitler. Your ambassador tells me approval has just been granted from Moscow!”