Alexander told Tatiana to sit. She lay down instead. She thought, I don’t want to lie down. I’m not a corpse yet. Not yet. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t sit up.

Tatiana lay on her side, and Alexander pulled the sled through the snow, through the quiet, snowed-in streets of Leningrad in the middle of an afternoon. Tatiana thought, it’s too heavy for him. It’s always him. When we first met, he carried my food for me down these streets. And now he is carrying me. She wanted to reach out and touch the bottom of Alexander’s coat. Instead she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes, Tatiana saw Alexander crouching beside her, his warm bare hand on her cold bare cheek. “Tatia,” he whispered, “come on, we’re home.”

I’m going to die with Alexander’s hand on my face, Tatiana thought. That is not a bad way to die. I cannot move. I can’t get up. Just can’t. She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting.

Through the haze in front of her she heard Alexander’s voice. “Tatiana, I love you. Do you hear me? I love you like I’ve never loved anyone in my whole life. Now, get up. For me, Tatia. For me, please get up and go take care of your sister. Go on. And I’ll take care of you.” His lips kissed her cheek.

She opened her eyes. He was very close to her, and his eyes looked true. Did she just hear him? Or did she dream that? She had dreamed of him saying he loved her for so many nights facing the wall, she had longed for those words, longed for them since Kirov. Was she just wishing for the white-night sun again?

Tatiana got up. He couldn’t carry her up the slippery stairs on his back. But he put his arm around her, and by holding on to him and the railing she made it upstairs. They walked through the long apartment, but at the door to their hallway Tatiana stopped. “Go in,” she said. “I’ll wait here. Go and see if she’s…” Tatiana couldn’t finish.

Alexander brought her inside and then went into the bedroom. “Yes, Tania,” she heard his voice. “Dasha is fine. Come in.”

Tatiana came in and knelt by the bed. “Dasha,” she said, “look, he brought you food.”

Dasha, her eyes two large brown saucers, two large brown empty saucers, moved her lips soundlessly, her stilted gaze traveling from Tatiana’s face to Alexander’s and back again.

“I’ve got to go,” said Alexander. “Go early tomorrow to get your bread. There is enough here for you until then. Have you girls already eaten all your barley?” He kissed Dasha on the head. “I’ll bring you more tomorrow.”

She lifted her arm to him. “Don’t leave,” said Dasha.

“I have to. You’ll be all right. Just get your rations. I’ll come and see you very soon. Tania, do you need help? Can you get up off the floor?”

“I can get up,” she said.

“Right,” he said, and put his hands under her arms. “Up we go.”

She stood up. She wanted to look at him, but she knew that Dasha was watching, so instead she looked at Dasha. It was easier; her head was already bent down. “Thank you, Sh—Alexander.”

3

They lay under their blankets in semiconsciousness. During the night Tatiana woke up hearing a knock on the door. It took her many minutes to get out of bed from under the coats and blankets. Unsteadily she walked through the dark hallway.

Alexander stood at the door dressed in his white battle uniform. Over his ears and head was a quilted hat, and in his hands he held a blanket.

“What’s the matter?” she said, putting her hand on her chest. Seeing him, Tatiana’s heart pulsed a beat faster, even in the middle of the night. Her eyes opened a bit wider; she was awake. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Get yourself and Dasha ready; where is she? She needs to get ready.”

“Where are we going? Dasha can’t get up,” Tatiana said. “You know that. She is coughing badly.”

“She will get up,” Alexander replied. “Come on. There is an armament truck leaving the garrison tonight. I will get you to Ladoga, and then you will go to Kobona. Tania! I will get you out of Leningrad.”

He walked through the hallway and came into the bedroom. Dasha was lying under her blankets and coats. Her lips were not moving, her eyes would not open.

“Dasha,” Alexander whispered. “Dashenka, dear, wake up. We’ve got to leave. Right now, we’ve got to go. Quick.”

Without opening her eyes, Dasha muttered, “I can’t get up.”

“You can get up, and you will get up,” he said. “An armament truck is waiting at the barracks. I will get you to Lake Ladoga. Then we will get you across the lake. Tonight. You’ll get to Kobona, where there is food, and then you girls can go to your Babushka in Molotov. But you have to get up right now, Dasha. Now, let’s go.” He moved the blankets off her.

Dasha whispered, “I can’t get to the barracks.”

“Tania has a sled. And look!” He opened his coat and took out a piece of white bread with a crust. Breaking off a hunk of the soft inside, he put it to Dasha’s mouth. “White bread! Eat. It will give you strength.”

Dasha opened her mouth. She chewed listlessly without opening her eyes and then coughed. Tatiana stood nearby, wrapped in her own coat with a blanket over her shoulders, looking at the piece of bread the way she once used to look at Alexander. Maybe Dasha won’t finish it all. Maybe there will be some left for me.

It was only a little piece. Dasha ate everything. “Is there more?” she asked.

“Only the crust,” Alexander replied.

“I’ll have it.”

“You can’t chew it.”

“I’ll swallow it whole.”

“Dasha… maybe your sister can have it?” he asked with feeling.

“She’s standing, isn’t she?”

Alexander looked up at Tatiana, who was standing next to him. Shaking her head, she said, looking longingly at the crust, “Give it to her. I’m standing.”

Breathing in deeply, Alexander gave the crust to Dasha and then, rising to his feet, said to Tatiana, “Let’s get going. What do you need to do to get ready? Can I help you pack?”

Tatiana stared at him with empty eyes. “I have nothing. I’m ready now. My boots are on. My coat is on. We’ve sold everything and burned everything else.”

“Everything?” he asked her in the darkness—one word, brimming with the past.

“I have… the books—” She broke off.

“Bring them,” Alexander said and, leaning closer to her, continued, “Check out the back cover of Pushkin when you’re feeling particularly down on your luck. Where are they?”

Alexander crawled under the bed to get her books, while Tatiana found Pasha’s old backpack. Then he lifted Dasha and forced her to stand up. In the dark the three silhouettes struggled in silence, with only Dasha’s intermittent moans and chesty coughing breaking the night into shards. Finally Alexander picked her up and carried her out of the apartment, and they slid down the stairs. Outside in the bitter night he laid Dasha across the sled, covering her with the blanket he had brought. Alexander and Tatiana picked up the reins and slowly pulled Dasha down the streets through the snow in the girls’ childhood blue sled with bright red runners.

“What’s going to happen to Dasha?” Tatiana said quietly.

“In Kobona there is food and a hospital. Once she is better, you will go to Molotov.”

“She sounds bad.”

Alexander didn’t say anything.

“Why is she coughing like that?” Tatiana said, and coughed herself.

Alexander didn’t say anything.

“I haven’t heard from Babushka in so long.”

“She is fine. She is better off than you,” Alexander said. “Is it hard for you to pull? Just walk beside me. Let go of the sled.”

“No.” It was a tremendous effort. “Let me help you.”

“Save your strength.” He made her release the rope. Tatiana let go and walked alongside him.

“Hold on to my arm,” Alexander told her. She did.

The night was so cold, Tatiana stopped feeling her feet. Leningrad was still and silent and almost completely dark. In the sky the translucent banded lights of the aurora borealis streaked green through the blackness. Tatiana turned around to look at Dasha, who lay motionless in the sled.