Vita Nostra. Julia Meitov Hersey
were in vain, but hoping deep inside that someday it would come in handy, perhaps while learning the “special technologies …”
She found a list of places that offered higher education, a reference book for prospective students, and studied it from cover to cover. No town of Torpa, no Institute of Special Technologies.
She was not surprised.
All her life she had been a good student. Letting things slide during the entrance exams turned out to be harder than she thought.
Around her, everyone acted nervous: kids hid cheat sheets in their pockets and their mothers sucked on Valium. Dust floated around in huge echoing rooms, the air smelled of old libraries, and outside it was hot, a real scorcher. Sasha did not care. She felt translucent and indifferent, like a Christmas ornament.
The written essay was easy. Taking the oral history exam, she nearly died of shame: she confused all the dates and completely blanked out on one of the questions. She got a B. Leaving the classroom, surrounded by sweaty throngs of people, she asked herself, astonished: What am I doing here? Why do I still care about the Battle of Kulikovo?
Mom inquired about the grade and, having heard, was visibly disappointed.
“What do you mean, a B? In history, of all things? But what about the preparatory courses? You went there for an entire year …”
“There is no point in applying without a bribe.” Valentin shared a profound thought.
Mom’s eyes turned fierce.
“Without a bribe … she hasn’t opened a textbook in the last few days! As if she couldn’t care less! She skulked around somewhere from morning to night … Were you at the beach? I passed the exams without a bribe, and you did,” she said to Valentin, “and we all did it the first time around!”
“The times were different,” Valentin said philosophically. “And now …”
“In the worst-case scenario,” Sasha said, surprising herself, “I’ll just apply someplace else.”
“What do you mean, ‘someplace else’?”
“The world is full of good colleges,” Sasha blurted out and withdrew quickly to her room.
Mom and Valentin continued talking for a long time. They were arguing.
Of course, she failed the entrance exams. It’s not like anyone was surprised. When the lists of the accepted students were posted, Sasha’s name was not included.
Mom was not caught off guard. It had been clear from the beginning that Sasha was not going to get a passing grade, and that her straight-A high school diploma made absolutely no difference.
“You were right,” her mother said to Valentin with stoical bitterness. “No matter how much you spend on a tutor … We should have bribed someone. It’s my fault. I should have. The times have changed.”
“It’s not like she has military duty,” answered Valentin with histrionic optimism. “She’s not a boy. She’ll get a job for a year, get a taste of grown-up responsibilities …”
Sasha opened her mouth and inhaled deeply—and said nothing. She decided to wait a few more days.
August came. The heat was replaced with rain. Mom took a few days off; she and Valentin had finally decided to get married.
“Just a small ceremony,” Mom said, brushing her hair in front of the mirror, her eyes sparkling. “We’ll get married, and then go to the old resort for a few days. We’ve been there before, remember, they have these wooden cabins and a river very close, a forest …”
“Rain,” said Sasha.
“Well, not all the time. Plus, it’s kind of nice there even in the rain. They have these canopies. And you can use the fire pits, have a barbecue.”
“Mom,” Sasha said, as if plunging into icy water. “I’ve been accepted to this college. It’s called the Institute of Special Technologies. It’s in the town of … Torpa.”
Mom turned to face her. Two hairpins stuck out of her mouth, like thin vampire fangs.
“I’ve already been accepted,” Sasha repeated. “Since things did not work out with the university, I figure I’ll stay in Torpa for a year. And then maybe I’ll transfer.”
She came up with the idea of a transfer just then, staring into Mom’s darkening, wide-open eyes.
“What town?” Mom spat out the pins.
“Torpa.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s not far,” Sasha lied. “The room and board are free. And I’ll have a stipend.”
“The Institute of what?”
“Special Technologies.”
“What technologies? You wanted to be a philologist!”
“Specialized … Mom, it’s a normal, decent college. It’s not in the capital, fine, it is in the provinces, but …”
Sasha faltered. Mom stared at her like an ant would stare at a burning anthill.
“Sasha, tell me you’re joking.”
Sasha took out the yellow printed letter, warped and wrinkled by rain and tears some time ago, but since then smoothed out with a warm iron. Mom glanced over it and looked at Sasha.
“It’s dated last June! Where did you get it?”
“It was mailed to me.”
“When?”
Sasha held her breath. Lying to her mother’s face was difficult, not something she was used to.
“A couple of days ago.”
“Sasha, you’re lying.”
“Mom, it’s a real document! I was accepted! To the Institute of Special Technologies! And I will be a student there!” Sasha’s voice trembled. “I need this, do you understand?”
“I understand.” Mom leaned on the table. “I understand. You’re jealous. You—a grown woman—behaving like … like a nasty, spoiled child. Since I … You can’t forgive me, can you? You can’t forgive me and you are being demonstrative about it.”
“What? No!” Sasha choked on her tears. “This has nothing to do with him! It’s just that, well … It just happened that I was accepted. I am going to Torpa, and …”
“You are not going anywhere.” Mom’s voice was packed with February ice. “You will be a normal student, under normal conditions, at a normal college. I’m very sorry that I raised such a selfish creature, but I will not allow any more extreme behavior. Thank you for a pleasant chat.”
And she turned back to face the mirror.
After two days of cold, tense communication, Mom came home unusually cheerful, pink-cheeked, and happy. It turned out that the university had opened a part-time evening option, and Sasha could be accepted there.
“And you can work in our office,” Mom chattered, setting the table, doling out the stew. “I’ve already made the arrangements. You can work during the day, then go to your evening classes. And then you can transfer to the regular department. I’m sure you can. Your sophomore year, or maybe junior.”
Sasha was silent.
“Tomorrow morning you need to go talk to the admissions office. Room 32. Are you listening?”
“I’m going to Torpa,” Sasha’s voice was barely audible. Dead silence hung over the dinner table.
“Sasha,” Valentin said with reproach. “Why are you doing this?”
Escaping, Sasha got up. She left her food untouched, went