As their strength gradually returned, life began to assume a rhythm again. They rose early and walked to the fields together. They worked with the remaining villagers and the newly imported Russians—sent in to replace all of the dead Ukrainians—living day to day with no promise of anything to look forward to. They ate the food the collective gave them, thankfully and carefully, never spilling a precious drop.
As the weather warmed and summer arrived, Katya moved Halya to a small trundle bed so the girl could sleep later each morning without Katya bothering her when she woke. Slowly, but surely, Halya was gaining strength and growing. When she scooted herself across the bed for the first time, Katya celebrated as if Halya had taken her first steps or read her first words. Every milestone, no matter how small, was a triumph.
She waited for Kolya to return to his bed, too, but he didn’t. Each night, she stripped down to her underclothes and got into bed, and each night, he climbed in with her.
The old Katya would have said something to him, she wrote in her journal. Asked him why he still lies with me, but now, I am afraid to say or do anything that might stop one of the few sources of joy I have every day. I find more and more that I want him pressed close against me, that I revel in the feel of his lean body touching mine.
Shame filled her as she composed the disloyal words. Her feelings for Kolya weren’t right or reciprocated, but she didn’t know what to do about them.
One night, she woke to find herself splayed across him, arms and legs tangled, her head resting on his chest. His body vibrated under hers like the thrumming of a hummingbird’s wings.
She sat up and found him, eyes wide open, watching her. She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll move over.”
His face was inches from hers, his voice husky. “No. Don’t.”
She froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Don’t move?”
He reached out and ran his hand through her hair. “I like you close to me.”
“You do?” Her voice wavered at the thrilling feel of his fingertips on her skin.
“I do. I’m sorry, Katya. I’ve tried to be strong. To fight this. But I don’t think I want to fight it any longer.”
Katya stared into his eyes, her grief mirrored there like twin pools of anguish. She felt the pain emanating from him in waves, but another, foreign feeling accompanied it. She cocked her head, appraising him and trying to control her racing pulse at the same time. Did he feel as she did?
Kolya took her chin in his hand and tilted her face toward his mouth. He paused, waiting to see if she would resist or participate, and when she softened, pliable in his embrace, he gave a strangled groan of defeat. Their lips met and Katya tasted the salty tears of their shared losses, and something more. Something promising. Feelings she’d thought long dead unfurled in her cold heart like a flower opening its petals to the sun on the first day of spring. Whispers of the possibilities of a new life, a new love, filled her soul, and the sudden yearning for him made her dizzy.
He pulled back. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Katya slowly exhaled, then reached up and touched his lips. He kissed her fingers, then leaned his face into her palm. She didn’t understand why or how this could have happened, but she knew it to be the truth with every fiber of her being. She wanted him. She loved him.
“Yes,” she said. Then, she pressed her lips to his.
They clung to each other, two lost souls in a broken world, seeking solace in the most unlikely of partners.
They continued spending their nights together, physically connecting as much as they could with their frail, broken bodies, their hearts slowly coming back to life. But in the light of day, Kolya barely spoke to her, and when he did, it was never of what happened in the dark. So, she suppressed her confusion and went on as if nothing had changed, counting the hours until nightfall, when she could come alive again in his arms.
“Are you ready to go to the collective?” Kolya called from the door.
“Go ahead without me. I have some things to do here.” Katya stared at him, waiting for him to say more. To ask her to come along. To tell her he wanted to spend time with her.
But he said nothing. Just like every day. They’d still never spoken of their physical relationship. During the day, it was as if the love they shared at night didn’t exist and maintaining the charade of indifference during the day was wearing on her. She wanted to talk about it. She wanted to know how he felt. To tell him how she felt. But her battle-weary heart didn’t have the strength to fight for its desires anymore.