CITY OF THE DEAD ✓

XII. CHANCES

Weeks passed before I found myself on the doorstep of a small cottage halfway between Stalingrad and Leningrad. It had a dark green door which contrasted with the stark white of the winter snow. I flipped the letter Alexey had written over to check the address before knocking a few beats on the wood.

I tapped my left foot against the layer of snow on the lane. In the washed coat stolen off the Stalingrad corpse, I came to leave the last part of the city behind with the address.

The door unlocked. A thin young woman with dark eyes and bright red hair looked back.

"May I help you?"

"I'm looking for the Yeremenko family."

Her look was a bit frazzled and I apologized, turning on my heel before she emerged onto the porch. A thin shawl was wrapped around the thick sweater that she wore over a set of worn pants.

She took my arm. "I'm Lyuba Yeremenko. Come in, will you? Out of the cold?"

I nodded and she smiled, leading me into the quaint but toasty cottage. She took her shaw off and hung it on the hook near the door before she led me to the center room of the house heated by a crackling fire. The walls were bare and a single photograph was on the shelf above the fireplace. A rug extended across the wood floor from the wall where a table and two chairs were.

Within the overcoat, my fingers tightened around the crinkled paper of the letter written in the  Stalingrad apartment. The young woman looked back at me and to the fireplace where the photograph was. I noticed the watch tilted beside it, and yet she snared my attention.

"Where did you come from? Moscow?"

I shook my head, my throat became tight. "Stalingrad. This is for you." I produced the letter and slid it across the uneven boards of the floor. "Perhaps in his own letters- if he ever managed to send one- he mentioned Alexey Panfilov, his partner, and close comrade."

"Alexey?"

A thin voice came from the adjacent room. Despite his dull eyes and a scar running up the side of his head, he looked almost identical to her.

"Lyuba, could you give us a minute?"

Despite being hesitant to leave, she rose off the floor. Lyuba gave him a tap on his shoulder as she whispered something to him.

"You're Tolya Yeremenko, aren't you?"

He nodded and narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Does it come as a shock?"

"No, well yes, but-"

"I want to know about you, considering you claim to have post meant for me."

"Alexey thought you were dead. He thought the bullet I presume to have carved a piece out of your skull killed you."

"It would have if a medic platoon hadn't seen the blood dripping through the floor- never mind. What's your name?"

"Vasilisa Khovanskaya."

He tipped his head to the floor to search his memory. I stared at the part of his skull where there was an absence of red hair. It ran from his ear to the top of his head and was the width of a bullet.

"His old friend across the street?" Tolya smiled. "I thought you'd be different from the stories I've heard. How did you find him?"

"He found me. We helped one another escape the city and made it across the Volga." I stopped and stare at the piece of music on the floor. "The stories?"

"Yes, there were many. The tree incident, your sister and the clarinet case and the awkward confrontations with your families. They go on and on, I assure you."

"You were in his flashbacks, all though they turned to nightmarish visions in the end. Enough about one another, I've come to give you this."

The letter slid across the floor and I smiled at the thought of Alexey thinking of me. His part of my soul had become a black mist, consumed by the fact he was gone like. The mist clouded on the waterline of my eyes.

He swayed his head in confusion. "He made you bring this because he thought I was dead?"

"No."

"Some part of me was lost in Stalingrad, but I don't want it back. Clearly, he doesn't either if he sent you."

"Alexey died in Stalingrad."

His face went blank and he fell back against the hearth. The letter slipped from his hands and slid off the edge of the bricks and onto the floor.

"I'm sorry, Tol." My voice broke, "I'm sorry."

"Alexey was the first one who called me Tol," he whispered before his face fell into his hands.

I held back the shuddering and instead watched Tol take the impact of the emotional blow.  apologized over and over for giving him the news, trying to escape the guilt and pain.

"How did it happen?"

"There were bombs on the ice. I would have died trying to get him back if a good man hadn't kept me running, to save my own life. He's the one who discovered the letter Alexey had slipped into my pocket prior to our final goodbye."

His expression changed with the thoughts swirling in his head. Tolya nodded and ran his sleeve beneath his eyes.

"But the words aren't meant for me, they are for you. Now you've seen them and I should be going, there's an offer from a resistance organization for me out near Leningrad."

"No." Tolya leaned forward. His palm rested against my upper arm. "You're drowning in grief and shouldn't be dealing with it alone."

I rose and turned over my shoulder near the door as Tolya emerged into the corridor. "Thank Lyuba for me."

"Wait, don't leave."

"What else are you going to ask? His last words? He shouted at me to get off the ice. Sometimes I wish I hadn't listened."

My shoulders heaved but I was determined to stop them. It was no use as my foot shook and water rushed from my tear ducts. I faced him and leaned against the wall. Tolya's gaze was no longer dull but softened with his outreach.

"Let me help you, Vaska. You're hurt like I am. A bullet can take a life by all means, but can ruin many more in its aftermath."

He wanted the answers I have, the answers I longed to give him. Yet my strength was reduced and I swayed my head, apologizing to Yeremenko for wasting his and Lyuba's time.

She appeared behind him, trying to deduce what had happened as it unfolded between the two of us. Tolya took a step forward and it was slow enough to not make me run from the confrontation.

"He gave me what Stalingrad will get; a second chance. But, I'm out of luck now, I've gotten my two."

I closed my eyes for a second and when I reopen them, Alexey was standing beside Tolya. On his lips was his signature sly smile now found in my distant memories.

"Vaska, he is giving you another chance, take it, please."

AND THAT'S HOW IT ENDS.