Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets (74 page)

I wanted to film every moment…I had to hold myself back, I was afraid of getting sucked in so deep, I wouldn’t be able to get back out…Every life story out there is like a Hollywood epic! A screenplay ready to go. For instance, her friend Ira…She’s a former math teacher, she left the school because they barely paid her. She had three kids, they’d beg her: “Mama, let’s go to the bread factory and sniff the bread.” They’d go in the evenings, so no one would see them. Now Ira works at the bread factory like Lena, and she’s glad that at least her kids can eat their fill of bread. They steal…Everyone out there steals, it’s the only way they can survive. Their lives are ghastly, inhuman, but their souls are alive and well. You should hear what those women talk about—you wouldn’t believe your ears! It’s mostly love. You can survive without bread, but without love, you’re dead…That’s it…Ira read the letters from Lena’s prisoner, and she got into it, too. She found herself a petty thief from the nearest prison. That one got out quick…Then the story developed according to the laws of tragedy…Vows of eternal devotion. A wedding. Soon enough, that Tolya, or maybe it’s Tolyan, took up drinking. Ira already had three kids, and she had two more with him. He turns savage, chases her around the village, and then, in the morning, he sobers up and swears repentance. Ira—she’s a beauty! And very bright. But that’s how our men are, they always have to be kings of the jungle…

And now it’s time to tell you about Yuri, Lena’s husband. In the village, they call him the “reading cowherd,” because he herds cows and reads. He has a lot of books by Russian philosophers. You can talk to him about Gorbachev or Nikolai Fedorov,
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perestroika or human immortality…While the other men drink, he reads. Yuri is a dreamer…A watcher. Lena is proud of how quickly he can solve crossword puzzles. But Yuri is short…When he was little, he’d been growing very fast…Then, in sixth grade, his mother took him to Moscow. They gave him some sort of unfortunate injection into his spine, and he stopped growing completely—he’s one meter fifty tall. He’s a very handsome man, but next to his wife, he’s tiny. In the film, we tried to make it so that the viewers wouldn’t notice. I pleaded with the cameraman: “Just please think of something!” You can’t let the viewer come to the simplistic conclusion that she left a little person for an attractive superman. Just like a woman would! And Yuri—he’s a wise man, he knows that happiness comes in many forms. He’s happy as long as Lena is near him no matter the circumstances, even if she’s not his wife anymore and is just his friend. Who do you think she runs to with the letters? They read them together…It breaks his heart, but he listens. Love is patient…It does not envy…It doesn’t complain, it thinks no evil…Of course, everything is not quite as beautiful as I’m telling you here…Their life is not all rosy. Yuri wanted to kill himself…To walk away wherever his feet would take him…There were real scenes between them, with flesh and blood. But he loves her…

YURI

On watching

I’ve always loved her, ever since we were in school. Then she got married and moved to the city. But I kept on loving her.

It was morning…My mother and I were sitting together drinking tea. I looked out the window and saw Lena coming with an infant in her arms. I told my mother, “See, Mama. My Lena has come. I think she has come to stay with me forever.” Ever since that day, I’ve been cheerful and happy, I even got handsome…When we got married, I was in seventh heaven. I kissed my wedding ring, which I managed to lose the very next day. It’s amazing—it had fit my finger so well, but while I was working, I had to shake out my mitts, and when I was putting them back on, I noticed the ring was gone. I looked for it everywhere and couldn’t find it. While Lena held on to her ring. Even though it was very loose on her finger, she never once dropped it until the day that she took it off…

We were always together, that’s how we lived! We loved walking down to the spring together. I would carry the buckets, and she’d walk by my side: “Wanna listen to me prattle?” And she’d start telling me some story…Things weren’t too good with money, but money is money and happiness is something else. As soon as spring was in the air, our house would fill with flowers. At first, it was just me who brought them, but then, when the children got a little older, we’d bring them to her together. We all loved our Mama. She was always cheerful. She played the piano—she’d gone to music school—and she sang. Made up fairy tales. For a little while, we had a TV, someone had given it to us as a present. The kids got sucked into the screen, it was impossible to tear them away, and it made them kind of aggressive, they started acting like strangers. So she went and poured water in it like it was an aquarium. The TV burnt out. “Children, go look at the flowers and trees instead. And talk to your mother and father.” Our kids didn’t even get upset because Mama had said so…

Our divorce…The judge asked us, “Why are you getting a divorce?” “We have differing views on life.” “Does your husband drink? Does he beat you?” “He doesn’t drink or beat me. And in general, my husband is an excellent man.” “Then why are you getting divorced?” “I don’t love him.” “That’s not a respectable reason.” They gave us a year to reconsider, to let us think it over…

The men all laugh at me. They told me to kick her out, send her to a psych ward…What wasn’t enough for her? You know, it happens to everyone. Melancholy, like the plague, descends on us all. You’re riding the train, looking out of the window, and there it is: sadness. Everything’s beautiful all around you, you can’t look away, but the tears are running down your face and you don’t know what to do with yourself. That Russian sorrow…Even someone who seems to have everything always wants more. That’s how people live. They try to endure it. But she…She says, “Yuri, you’re so wonderful, you’re my best friend in the world. But even though he’s spent half of his life in prison, I need him. I love him. If you don’t let me go, I’ll die. I’ll do everything I’m supposed to do, but I’ll be dead inside.” Fate is a cruel joke…

She abandoned us and left. The children missed her, they cried for a long time, especially the little one. Our little Matvei…Everyone waited for Mama to come back, and they’re still waiting. And I’m waiting, too. She wrote us, “Just don’t sell the piano.” It’s the only expensive thing in the house, it’d been left to her by her parents. Her beloved piano…We’d sit around it in the evenings, and she would play for us. How could I ever sell it for money? She can’t just throw me out of her life, leaving behind an empty space—it’s simply impossible. We lived together for fifteen years, we have children together. She’s a good woman, but she’s not like anyone else. She’s otherworldly…light…She’s light…while I am an earthly person. I’m one of the people who live down here on Earth…

They wrote about us in the local paper. Then they had us come to Moscow to go on TV. Here’s what it’s like: They sit you down as though you’re on a stage, and you tell your story in front of a live studio audience. Then there’s a discussion. Everyone gave Lena a really hard time, especially the women, “You maniac! You nympho!” They were ready to stone her. “This is clearly pathological, it’s just not right.” The questions they had for me…It was knockout after knockout…“The dirty bitch who abandoned you and her children is not worth your little finger. You’re a saint. On behalf of all Russian women, I bow at your feet…” I wanted to respond, but as soon as I opened my mouth, I’d be told: “We’re sorry, your time is up.” I ended up bursting into tears. Everyone thought it was because I was so hurt or angry. But actually, I was crying because they’re all so smart, so educated, they live in the capital, and yet they don’t understand a thing.

I will wait for her however long it takes. However long she wants…I can’t imagine being with another woman. Although sometimes, it does occur to me…

FROM VILLAGE CONVERSATIONS

—Lena is an angel…

—Wives like her used to get locked up in the pantry or whipped…

—It would have been one thing if she had left him for a rich man. The rich lead more interesting lives. But what kind of relationship can she have with a criminal? And one behind bars for life, at that. Two visits a year, and that’s it. That’s their whole relationship.

—She’s a romantic. Let her have her fun.

—Pitying the unfortunate is in our blood. Murderers and alcoholics. Some men can kill but still have the eyes of a baby. You feel sorry for them.

—I don’t believe men at all anymore, and especially not prisoners. They’re just bored in jail. That’s their entertainment. They write the same thing to everyone: My white-winged swan, I dream of you, the light of my life…Some idiot falls for it and leaps at the chance to save him: Hauls packages for him in unliftable suitcases, sends him money. Waits. He gets out of jail, comes to her house—has a bite, takes a sip, gets her money, and instantly vanishes into thin air. Ciao! Bye-bye!

—It’s such a powerful love, though! Girls, it’s just like the movies!

—She left her good, kind husband for a murderer. Plus, her kids…three little boys…Just buying the ticket—she has to travel to the ends of the Earth to see him—where does she get the money? She’s always taking the bread out of her children’s mouths. She’ll go to the store and face a dilemma: Should she buy them a roll or no?

—A wife must deeply respect her husband
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…They’re walking together in Christ. Otherwise, what’s the point? Without that common purpose, why bother?

—Without me, the Lord says, you cannot create. But she’s trying to create things out of her imagination. It’s pure pride. Where there’s no submission, there is always another force present. An evil spirit is involved.

—She ought to go to the monastery and seek a path to salvation. People save themselves through suffering. Even suffering has to be sought out…

AS TOLD BY IRINA VASILYEVA

I asked her myself: “Lena, do you understand that you’re only going to see him twice a year?” “So what? That’s enough for me. I’ll be with him in my thoughts. In my feelings.”

To see him, she has to travel to the far north. To Fire Island, Ognenny Ostrov.
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In the fourteenth century, the disciples of Sergius of Radonezh journeyed through this region mastering the forests of the North. One day, as they broke through a thicket, they saw a lake and in the middle of the lake, there were tongues of fire. This was the spirit revealing itself to them. So they filled their boats with dirt and rowed out to the middle of the lake…They created an island, and on that island they built a monastery with walls a meter and a half thick. Today, this ancient monastery serves as a prison for the most violent offenders. It’s death row. On the door of each cell, they hang a sign detailing the atrocities committed by the inmate: For stabbing Anya, six years…For murdering Nastya, twelve years…You read them and are seized with horror, but then you go into the cell and meet a more or less normal person. He asks for a cigarette, you give it to him. “What’s it like out there? In here, we don’t even know what the weather is.” They live in a rock. Surrounded by nothing but forests and swamps. No one has ever tried to escape…

The first time Lena went, she didn’t even consider the possibility that they might not let her in to see him. She knocked on the window where they issue passes, and no one even bothered listening to her: “That’s the head warden over there. Go talk to him.” She threw herself on the warden, “Please let me see him.” “Who?” “Volodya Podbutsky.” “Don’t you know that our prison houses gravely dangerous criminals? They’re on the strictest penal regime: two three-day visits a year, plus three short visits for two hours each. Only their closest relatives are allowed to see them—their mothers, their wives, their sisters. What’s your relation to him?” “I love him.” That was when the warden realized that he had a crazy person on his hands. He tried to get away, but she held on to him by a button: “You have to understand, I love him.” “You’re a complete stranger to him.” “Then just let me take a peek at him.” “What, you’ve never even seen him before?” Now, everyone thought it was funny, the guards had all come around to get a better look at the little fool. Ha ha…And there she goes telling them all about her dream, which she had when she was eighteen, about her husband and three kids and how her whole life, she’s really only loved this one person. Her sincerity and purity can break down all walls. When they meet her, people start feeling like there’s something off about their perfectly proper lives—they feel like they’re coarse, not as sensitive as they’d thought they were. The warden was no spring chicken…In his line of work, he’d seen everything…He put himself in her shoes: “Since you’ve come such a long way, I’ll give you six hours with him, but there will be a guard in there with you the whole time.” “Make it two guards for all I care! I’m not going to see anybody but him…”

Everything that’s extreme and unbounded about her, she dumped onto that Volodya. “Do you understand how happy I am…I’ve waited for you my whole life, and now, we’re finally together.” Naturally, he wasn’t prepared for any of it. Some Baptist had already been visiting him, he was in a relationship with her. That story made sense to everyone—she was your typical young woman with a sad life story. She needed a man, a stamp in her passport that said she was married. But here, it was such an outpouring, this powerful blast of feeling! When someone wants you that bad, you’re bound to get scared. His mind was reeling…“I’m begging you,” Lena told him. “Let’s get married so that they’ll let me visit you and I can come to see you. That’s all I ask.” “Aren’t you married already?” “I’ll get a divorce. You’re the only man I love.” She’d brought a bagful of his letters with her, covered in drawings of flowers and maple pods. She couldn’t bear to be apart from them for even a minute. They were the apogee of happiness for her: Her whole life, she’d sought out the absolute, and the absolute can only exist in written form, it can only be fully realized on paper. On Earth, in bed, it doesn’t exist. You won’t find the absolute here. Everything that involves other people—family, children—is a compromise…