Alexander continued, also not smiling, “Unfortunately, the Germans have geography on their side. We have too much water all around the city.” Then he smiled. “I’ll rephrase that. With the gulf, Lake Ladoga, the river Neva, and the Finns up north, the circle around Leningrad is nearly complete.” Looking at Tatiana, he asked, “How is that? Is that better?”

She muttered unintelligibly and accidentally caught Marina’s eye.

Dimitri sat closer to Tatiana, putting his arm around her and nuzzling in her hair. “Your hair is growing out, Tanechka,” he said. “Grow it out all the way, will you? I loved it long.”

Whatever Alexander is doing, Tatiana thought, is not enough. Whatever we’re doing is not enough. How long can we continue? We need to stop talking to each other in front of Dima and Dasha and the rest of my family. Or soon there will be trouble. As if reading Tatiana’s mind, Alexander moved his chair closer to Dasha’s.

“Alexander,” asked Dasha, “the Germans are not up the whole Neva, are they?”

“Around the city, yes. All the way up the river to Lake Ladoga, to Shlisselburg.”

Shlisselburg was a small city built at the tip of Lake Ladoga, where the Neva spilled out of the lake and meandered seventy kilometers to Leningrad, emptying out into the Gulf of Finland.

“Is Shlisselburg under German control?” Dasha asked.

“No,” Alexander said, sighing. “But tomorrow it will be.”

“And then what?”

“Then we fight to keep the Germans out of Leningrad.”

Tatiana’s mother asked, “Now that the warehouses have burned down, how is food going to get into the city?”

Dimitri said, “Not just food, but kerosene, gasoline, munitions.”

Alexander said, “First, we stop the Germans from getting inside, then we worry about everything else.”

Dimitri laughed unpleasantly. “They can come inside if they want. Every major building in Leningrad has been mined. Every factory, every museum, every cathedral, every bridge. If Hitler enters the city, he will die in its ruins. We are not going to be stopping Hitler, just dying alongside him.”

“No, Dimitri, we are going to be stopping Hitler,” said Alexander. “Before the Germans get into the city.”

“So Leningrad is now scorched earth, too?” asked Tatiana. “What about all of us?”

No one replied.

Shaking his head, Alexander finally said, “Dimitri and I are headed for Dubrovka tomorrow. We will stop them if we can.”

“But why is it that it’s me and you who have to stand between the Germans and this city?” Dimitri exclaimed. “Why can’t we just give Leningrad up? Minsk gave up. Kiev gave up. Tallinn gave up, having burned to the ground first. The entire Crimea gave up. All of the Ukraine happily gave up!” He was getting himself into a terrible agitation. “What the hell are we doing killing all of our men to stop Hitler from coming here? Let him come.”

“But, Dimochka,” said Mama, “your Tania is here. And Alexander’s Dasha.”

“Oh, and let’s not forget me,” said Marina. “Even though I belong to nobody, I’m here, too.”

“That’s right, Dima,” said Alexander. “Do you want to step out of Hitler’s way so he can get to your girl?”

“Yes, Dima,” exclaimed Dasha. “Haven’t you heard what the Germans are doing to all the Ukrainian women?”

“I haven’t heard; what are they doing?” asked Tatiana.

“Nothing, Tania,” Alexander said gently. “Can I please have some more tea?”

Tatiana stood up.

Dimitri looked down into his empty cup. “I’ll get you some tea, too, Dima,” said Tatiana.

Marina said, looking down into her empty cup, “My poor Papa couldn’t stop them. They seem unstoppable, don’t you think?”

Alexander said nothing.

“They are unstoppable!” Dimitri exclaimed. “We have three pathetic army divisions. That’s not going to be enough, even if every last man dies and if every last tank is destroyed!”

Alexander stood from the table and saluted everyone. “On that note,” he said, “we must be going. Forget my tea, Tania.” Turning to Dimitri, he said, “Soldier on, Private, and let’s go. Your life stands between the Metanovs and Hitler.” He did not glance at Tatiana.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” mumbled Dimitri.

As they were leaving, Dasha cried, clinging to Alexander. “Will you promise to come back alive?”

“I will do my best.” And then he glanced at Tatiana.

Tatiana did not cry, nor did she extract the same promise from Dimitri. After they left, she had a piece of sweet biscuit, nursing it like a wound.

Marina said, “I really like your Dima, Tania. He is more honest than anyone I know. I like that in a soldier.”

Puzzled, Tatiana looked at her cousin. “What kind of a soldier doesn’t want to go and fight? You can have him, Marina.”

3

The next morning, as they were getting dressed, the Metanovs heard on the radio that an incendiary bomb had fallen on the roof of a building on Sadovaya Ulitsa and the roof patrol wasn’t able to put it out in time. It exploded, killing everyone there, nine people, all of them under the age of twenty.

My brother was under the age of twenty, Tatiana thought, putting on her shoes. Her shin was throbbing.

“You see? What did I tell you?” said Mama. “It’s dangerous to be on the roof.”

“We are in the middle of a city under siege, Mama,” Tatiana said. “It’s dangerous to be everywhere.”

The bombing started at precisely eight in the morning. Tatiana hadn’t even gone to get her rations yet. The family all piled downstairs to the bomb shelter. Restlessly Tatiana bit her nails to the quick and drummed and drummed a tune on her knees, but nothing helped. They sat for an hour.

Afterward Papa gave Tatiana his ration book and asked her to get his rations for him. Mama said, “Tanechka, can you get mine, too? I’ve got all this sewing to do before work. I’m sewing extra uniforms for the army.” She smiled. “One uniform for our Alexander, ten rubles for me.”

Tatiana asked Marina to come with her to the store. Marina declined, saying she was going to help Babushka get dressed. Dasha was in the kitchen washing clothes in the cast-iron sink.

Tatiana went by herself. She found a large store on the Fontanka Canal near the Theatre of Drama and Comedy. The theatre was showing Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night at seven that evening. The line at the store spilled down the embankment.

She forgot all about Twelfth Night when she got to the counter and learned that after yesterday’s burning of the Badayev warehouses the ration had been further reduced.

Papa got half a kilo of bread on his worker’s ration card, but everyone else got only 350 grams each, and Marina and Babushka only 250 grams. Altogether they had about two kilos of bread for the day. Besides bread, Tatiana managed to buy some carrots, soybeans, and three apples. She also bought 100 grams of butter and half a liter of milk.

After running home, Tatiana told her family of the reduced rations. They weren’t concerned. “Two kilos of bread?” Mama said, putting away her sewing. “That’s more than enough. That’s plenty. No need to stuff ourselves like pigs in times of war. We can tighten our belts a little bit. Plus we have all that extra food just in case. We’ll be fine.”

Tatiana divided the bread into two piles—one for breakfast, one for dinner—and then divided each of the piles into six portions. She gave Papa the most bread. She gave herself the least.

At the hospital gone was the pretense of training with Vera. Tatiana was reduced to cleaning the toilets and baths for the patients and then washing their soiled bedding. She served lunch and was herself able to eat. Sometimes soldiers came in to eat. While serving them, she always asked if they were stationed in Pavlov Barracks.

Intermittent bombing continued during the day.

That night Tatiana had enough time to make dinner and clean up before the air-raid siren sounded at nine. Back to the bomb shelter. Tatiana sat and sat and sat. It’s been only two days, she thought. How many more days of this? Next time I see Alexander, I’m going to get him to tell me the truth about how long this is going to continue.