Of Silence | completed

THE TEACHER

LILLE, FRANCE. 23 DECEMBER 1939

The door of Inna's house was a bright rose-red, and as Joseph knocked, three times, he thought about how fitting it was to her personality - lovely and alluring. Inna Kuznetsov was a character, a multifaceted one, and in the past year he had gotten to know her so well he thought he might write a book about her. After all, she was deserving of the most intricate of words.

Inna opened the door, and her face broke into a broad grin when she saw Joseph. 'Mon amour,' she said lightly. 'Please, come in.' And he did, taking in the interior for the hundredth time - it was mostly the same, but he felt as if there was more space, suddenly. The wicker chairs, worn where he had sat with Inna so many times, were positioned in the same places: by the window on the left, and towards the back wall. The curtains were of ivory lace and the walls were open brick; it was such a lovely home, and Joseph often found it embarrassing to bring Inna into his own, beaten down flat.

Today he had come to ask if she would go with him to Rouen to visit his family. He had spent a couple of nights talking about his parents and sister and young nephew to Inna, and she had been delighted with the idea of visiting. Joseph held, behind his back, two round-trip rail tickets to Rouen. The price of the other ticket had almost cost him his rent, but he had managed to convince his landlord to let him pay it when he came back.

Inna pulled him into the living room and placed a chaste kiss on his mouth. Joseph smiled at her, warmly, and went to join her on the wicker loveseat, producing the two tickets as he did so.

'My love,' he said. 'Will you come with me to Rouen? You can meet my parents and my sister, I have told them so much about you...'

Inna smiled, then, and to Joseph it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He could not stop his mind from wandering. She would say yes, and they would be on the train that evening to Rouen, where he would ask for her hand in marriage -

'Joseph, I am so sorry, but I cannot come.' Her face was solemn, her tone grave. Joseph's face fell with his good spirits.

'What is it? Do you not want to come? Do you have work that you must finish?'

'No, Joseph,' she said, and looked at him, eyes big and pleading, 'another war is coming.'

He was incredulous. 'A war? Inna, what has come over you?'

'Listen,' she begged, urgency lacing through her voice. 'My sister's husband, he is in the army, and he says there is a rumor that the Germans will invade and France will fall.' She gestured around the room. 'You see how many things are gone? I have either sold them, or I have sent them to Paris. I have not paid my rent. This, I have been planning for many months now.'

'You truly believe this rumor?' She nodded, slightly.

That was enough - if she believed the rumor, then he believed her.

But Joseph was still agitated. She had not told him a word of this, and now, like a fool, he had bought these tickets and let his hopes grow too high. Had he spent these francs for nothing? His pockets were empty and his spirits had sunk but still he was not angry at her. If Inna desired to go somewhere, he would follow in a heartbeat.

'Where will we go?' He took her hand in his, stroking his thumb across hers to calm himself. He stared at their hands - Inna's hands were small and delicate and like an opposite of his own, which were large and calloused from his thirty-three years of hard life. Inna herself contrasted him greatly - she was pale-skinned and fair haired and had eyes the color of summer skies. Joseph had raven hair and coffee skin and dull brown eyes; he often wondered if she thought him any less for the darkness of his skin, like many others did.