Vita Nostra. Julia Meitov Hersey
time she even allowed this thought, Sasha glanced over her shoulder in fear. She knew she could never rebel. She would not even try. It was too frightening.
Sasha did not quite make it to the highest graduation rank, but she was not really disappointed. She had known for a while that that was not going to happen. The prom passed her by: Sasha kept falling asleep amid the happy crowds and was pleased that at least there was no river cruise.
Ivan Konev danced with Irina, who was in a parallel class. Sasha almost did not care. Kon graduated with highest honors and by the time the prom rolled around, had already been accepted into the School of Mechanics and Mathematics.
Sasha went to submit her application for the School of Philology; she went by herself. Mom wanted to accompany her, but Sasha insisted on going alone.
Linden trees were beginning to blossom. The rain came down in light sprinkles. Sasha walked and smiled. This year a trip to the seaside was not going to happen, but she was fine with that. If she did not get into the university on the first try … It was an unpleasant thought, but oh well. She could get a job as a secretary, perhaps even at the School of Philology. She could work, make some connections. She could break out of this vicious circle—notes, homework, notes …
“Sasha!”
She turned around, still smiling. The man in the dark glasses sat on the bench that she’d just passed, lost in her thoughts. Reflecting her smile, he stretched his lips and patted the bench next to him in a welcoming gesture. No longer smiling, she dutifully went over and sat down, putting her bag neatly in her lap.
“How’s the arm?” the man asked.
“It’s good.”
Sparrows fidgeted in the wet linden tree above their heads. Their chirping deafened Sasha.
“How many coins do you have?”
“Four hundred seventy-two,” she answered without thinking.
“You have the passing score.”
“I haven’t taken any exams yet …”
“Oh, but you have.” He grinned again. “Here you go.”
He offered her a yellow piece of paper, some sort of an official letter, with Sasha’s first and last names typed in neatly:
Congratulations! Samokhina Alexandra, you are hereby accepted as a first year to the Institute of Special Technologies in the town of Torpa. Classes begin on September 1.
And below, in small print:
Regarding placement in dormitories, please contact …
Sasha tore her eyes away from the paper. She stared at the man sitting next to her. For a couple of minutes she couldn’t say anything.
“What is this?”
“This is the school you’re going to. It’s a very good school.”
“I don’t understand,” Sasha managed. “The university … I …”
The man sitting next to her took off his glasses.
Sasha expected just about anything. That he had no eyes at all. That his eyes were drawn on the pale, stuck-together eyelids. That his eyes were sewn shut with a coarse thread, that his eye sockets were empty …
He had eyes. Brown. Serene. Perfectly ordinary at first glance.
“My name is Farit,” he said softly. “Farit Kozhennikov. If you would like to know.”
“I would like to know,” Sasha said after a pause. “I’d also like to know: Can you … let me go, Farit?”
He shook his head.
“Sasha. You passed the preliminary testing, you were accepted into a good school, and you have almost an entire free summer ahead of you. Enjoy your summer—swim, take walks. Gather your strength before school. By August thirty-first, though, get a ticket to Torpa. You can get there a couple of days in advance, get into the dorm, get acquainted—”
“But how am I supposed to explain it to my mother?” Sasha almost screamed it. A woman passing by glanced at her with surprise.
“You’ll find a way,” Farit said. “Come up with something. You never know, it might happen that you may not need to explain anything to anyone. Embrace the freedom—do whatever you want.”
He put his glasses back on. Sasha clutched the bench; the serene face of her companion swam in front of her eyes.
“But I’ve already applied to the university—to the School of Philology … I have to …,” she began shrilly. “You can’t … You can’t do anything. Nothing. I don’t believe in you. You … I want it to be a dream!”
Nothing happened. The sun peeked through the clouds and was reflected in the puddles.
Sasha wanted to say something else, but instead she broke down sobbing—terrified, vulnerable, and ashamed.
“Quiet,” Farit said. “Calm down. Didn’t I say I would never ask you to do the impossible? I would never do that.”
Sasha wept. Tears dripped onto the typed lines on the yellow paper.
“What is wrong with you?” Farit said tiredly. “Do you really need your university? No. It’s not really important. Are you enjoying living in a one-bedroom hole with the newlyweds? You, a newly minted stepdaughter? No, Sasha. But you insist on keeping to the beaten path. Are you afraid of changing things?”
“I’m afraid for her!” Sasha screamed through her tears. “She must be … She will be fine, won’t she? Tell me!”
“Obviously. She’ll be healthy and even happy. Because you’re an intelligent girl, and you will do everything as I tell you. Don’t ask me what will happen if you do not.”
He rose gracefully.
“Bring the coins with you—all of them. The address of the institute is on this form. Try not to lose it. Sasha, are you listening to me?”
She sat, hiding her face in her hands.
“Everything will be fine,” said the man who called himself Farit Kozhennikov. “You can even take the university entrance exams if you’d like. If you don’t want to enjoy your summer—that’s up to you. There’s just one condition: by September first, you must be at Torpa. You will be assigned to a dorm. The meals are free. You will be getting a stipend, too—a small one, but enough to buy some chocolate or whatever.
“Just stop crying. I’m ashamed of you, honestly.”
Sasha remained on the bench until her tears dried up and her breath grew steady. The rain stopped, then started again. Raindrops struggled through the leaves of the linden tree. Sasha opened her umbrella.
She had not thought to ask what sort of special technologies were taught at the Torpa Institute. Frankly speaking, she was not at all interested. What mattered to her was that at seventeen years old, most of her life was now wasted, especially this last year. Notes, textbooks, tutors, studying … what was it all for, if this institute in Torpa was all that was in store for her?
Perhaps worse, she had no one to talk to, no one to complain to about a man in dark glasses who called himself Farit Kozhennikov. She had no friends. And Mom had switched her love to Valentin, the same way railroad points are switched from one track to another.
She got up. The rain had stopped a while ago, the sun was shining again, but Sasha still held an open umbrella, unaware of the surprised glances as she made her way to the administration building. She stepped up to the entrance, stood in line with the other applicants, handed in her application form, high school diploma, and medical records. Just as she had planned all along.
She returned home, gathered all her textbooks and notepads, admired the heap for a few minutes, and then stuck them deep inside