Page 25 of Spinning Silver

Every day that week, Miryem’s father asked me, a little puzzled, “Wanda, have you seen Miryem?” and every day I reminded him that she had gone to Vysnia.

Then he would say, “Oh, of course, how foolish of me to forget.” Every day at dinner, Miryem’s mother put out a fourth place, and filled it, and then they both looked surprised again to find her gone.

I didn’t say anything because they gave me the full plate to eat.

I did the collecting, writing the lines carefully in the book.

Sergey and I looked after the goats and the chickens.

We kept the yard tidy, the snow packed hard and brushed smooth.

On Wednesday I went to the market and did the shopping, and a man who had come in from the north selling fish asked me if Miryem had any aprons left: he had seen others wearing them and he wanted them for his three daughters.

There were three aprons left in the house.

A huge daring knot rose in my throat. I told him and said, “I can go and fetch them if you want. Two kopeks for each.”

“Two kopeks!” he said. “I can’t pay more than one.”

“I can’t change the price,” I said. “My mistress is away. She hasn’t sold them to anyone for less,” I added.

He frowned, but he said, “Well, I’ll take two.

” When I nodded and said I would go get them, he called after me to bring all three.

I went and got the aprons and I brought them back to him.

He inspected them backward and forward, looking for any loose threads, faded dye.

Then he took out his purse and counted out the money into my hand: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Six kopeks, shining in my palm. They weren’t mine, but I closed my hand on them and swallowed and said, “Thank you, Panov,” and then I took the basket and walked out of the market, until no one else was looking at me, and then I ran all the way back to the house and burst in breathless.

Miryem’s mother was putting dinner on the table. She looked at me in surprise.

“I sold the aprons,” I said. I thought I might cry. I swallowed and held the money out to her.

She reached out and took it, but she didn’t even look at the coins.

She put her hand on my face—so small, and thin, but warm.

She smiled up at me and said, “Wanda, how did we manage without you?” She turned away to put the money into a jar on the shelf.

I hid my face in my hands, and then I wiped my eyes with my apron before I sat down at the table.

She had made too much food again. “Wanda, could you eat a little more? It’s a shame for food to go to waste,” her father said again, sliding the fourth plate to me.

Miryem’s mother was looking out the window with a strange expression on her face, a little confused.

“How long has Miryem been gone?” she asked slowly.

“A week,” I said.

“A week,” her mother repeated, as if she was trying to fix it in her head.

“She’ll be home before you know it, Rakhel,” her father said, in a hearty way, as though he was trying to convince himself.

“It’s a long way,” her mother said. That strange anxious look was still in her face. “It’s so far for her to go.” Then she pulled herself around and smiled at me. “Well, Wanda, I’m so glad to see you enjoy the food.”

I don’t know why, but the thought came into my head very clear: Miryem is not coming back. “It’s very good,” I said. My throat felt strange. “Thank you.”

She gave me the day’s penny and I walked slowly home.

I thought, Miryem would always be about to come back.

They would wait for her and wait for her.

Every day they would set a place. Every day they would be puzzled she had not come.

Every day they would give me her share of the food.

Maybe they would give me her share of other things, too.

I would take care of Miryem’s work. Miryem’s mother would smile at me again the way she had today.

Her father would teach me more numbers. I tried not to want those things.

It felt like wishing she would not come back.

I went and buried my penny at the tree, and then I went to the house and stopped near the door.

There had been footprints in the road all along the way as I walked.

That was not so strange. There were other people who lived along the road.

But now I saw the footprints had turned off the road and gone all the way to the door of my house: two men, with leather boots, and that was very strange.

It wasn’t time for the tax collector. I slowly went closer.

As I came near the door, I heard laughter and men’s voices, making a toast. They were drinking.

I didn’t want to go in, but there was no help for it.

I was cold from the long walk, I needed to warm my feet and hands.

I opened the door. I didn’t have any idea of what I would find.

Anything would have surprised me. It was Kajus and his son Lukas.

They had a big jug of krupnik on the table and three cups.

My father was red in the face, so they had been drinking a while already.

Stepon was huddled in the corner by the fireplace, making himself small.

He looked up at me. “Here she is!” Kajus said, when I came inside.

“Close the door, Wanda, and come and celebrate with us. Go on, Lukas, go help her!”

Lukas got up and came to me and stretched up to try to help me take off my shawl.

I didn’t understand why he bothered. I took it off myself and hung it near the fire, and my scarf with it.

I turned around. Kajus was beaming at me all the time.

“I’m sure it will be a sorrow to you to lose her,” he said to my father, “but such is the lot of a man with a daughter! And her home will not be far.” I stood still.

I looked at Stepon. “Wanda,” Kajus went on, “we have settled it all! You are going to marry Lukas.”

I looked at Lukas. He did not look very pleased, but he did not look very sad either. He was only giving me a considering eye. I was a pig at the market he had decided to buy. He was hoping I fattened up well and gave him many piglets before it was time to make bacon.

“Of course, your father told me about this business with the debt,” Kajus said.

“But I have told him he will not have to pay any more. We will put it on my account instead, and you will work it off from there. And every week, you will come and bring him a jar of my best krupnik, so he won’t forget what his daughter looks like.

To your health and happiness!” He toasted me with his glass, and moistened his lips, and my father raised his too and drank the whole thing.

Kajus filled his glass back up right away.

So my father wouldn’t even get a goat for me that might make milk, or some pigs.

He wouldn’t get four pennies a month. He had sold me for drink.

For one jug of krupnik a week. Kajus was still smiling.

He must have guessed I was being paid in money.

Or he thought maybe if I was in his house, Miryem would make his debt less.

And if he went and talked to Miryem’s father, he would be right.

The debt would all go away. It would be a wedding present they made me.

Then maybe Kajus would keep me working for them, but he would demand more and more money from them.

Miryem was gone. She could not come and fight him.

It was only her father and mother, and they could not fight Kajus. They could not fight anybody.

“No,” I said.

They all looked at me. My father was blinking. “What?” he said, slurring.

“No,” I said again. “I will not marry Lukas.”

Kajus had stopped smiling. “Now, Wanda,” he began, but my father was not waiting for him to say any words. He got up quickly and hit me so hard across the face I fell to the floor.

“You say no?” my father bellowed. “You say no? Who do you think is master in this house? You don’t say no to me! Shut your mouth! You will marry him today, you stupid cow!” He was taking off his belt, trying to, but he could not get the buckle undone.

“Gorek, she was only surprised,” Kajus was saying, putting out a hand, not getting up. “I’m sure she will think better of it in a moment.”

“I will teach her to think better!” my father said, and grabbed me by my hair and dragged up my head.

I had a glimpse of Lukas. He had backed away towards the door.

He looked scared. My father was a big man, bigger than him and Kajus.

“You say no?” he was repeating, again and again, hitting my face from either side, back and forth.

I tried to cover my head, but he slapped my hands away.

“Gorek, she won’t look good for her wedding like this,” Kajus said, as if he was trying to make it all a joke. His voice was a little scared in my ringing ears.

“Who cares about her face!” my father said. “He’ll have the part of a woman that matters. Don’t you put up your hands to me!” he shouted at me. “You say no?” He had given up on his belt. He threw me down hard on the hearth and grabbed the poker from next to the fireplace.

And then Stepon said, “No!” and grabbed the other end of the poker.

My father stopped. Even half blind with crying I picked up my head to stare.

Stepon was still only small and skinny as a year-old tree.

My father could have lifted him off the ground by the other end of the poker.

But Stepon still grabbed the poker with both his hands and held on to it and said, “No!” again to my father.