“Tania, I know.”

“Are they feeding you better in the army?”

“Yes. They feed the front-line troops adequately. They feed the officers a little better. What they don’t give me, I buy. We get the food before it gets to you.”

“That’s the way it should be,” said Tatiana, her mouth so full, so happy.

“Shh,” he said, smiling. “Slow down. You’re going to give yourself a terrible stomachache.”

She slowed down—a little. Smiling back—a little.

“For the family I brought some butter and a bag of white flour,” Alexander said. “And twenty eggs. When was the last time you had eggs?”

Tatiana remembered. “September fifteenth. Let me have a little piece of butter now,” she said. “Can you wait with me? Or do you have to go?”

“I came to see you,” he said.

They stood looking at each other without touching.

They stood looking at each other without talking.

At last Alexander whispered, “Too much to say.”

“Not enough time to say any of it,” said Tatiana, looking at the long line of people in the store. She had stopped eating. “I’ve been thinking about you,” she said, keeping her voice calm.

“Don’t think about me again,” said Alexander with resigned finality.

Tatiana backed away. “Don’t worry. You’ve made it very clear that that’s certainly what you want.”

“What are you talking about?” He looked at her in confusion. “You have no idea what it’s like out there.”

“I only know what it’s like in here,” she said.

“We’re all dying. Even the ranking officers.” Alexander paused. “Grinkov died.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” He sighed. “Let’s get in line.”

Alexander was the only man getting rations. They stood together for forty-five minutes. It was quiet in the crowded store; no one else spoke. And they couldn’t stop. They talked about public things: the cold weather, the waiting Germans, the food. But they couldn’t stop.

“Alexander, we have to get more food from somewhere. I don’t mean me, I mean Leningrad. Where is it going to come from? Can’t they fly some in?”

“They are already. Fifty tons a day of food, fuel, munitions.”

“Fifty tons…” Tatiana thought. “That sounds like a lot.”

When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Is it?”

She could tell that Alexander was trying not to answer. “It’s not enough,” he replied at last.

“Not enough by how much?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said shortly.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know, Tania.”

“Well,” she said with mock cheeriness, “I think that it must be good enough. Fifty tons. Sounds tremendous. I’m glad you told me, because Nina has nothing for her family—”

“Stop!” Alexander exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Tatiana said sweetly. “Nina doesn’t have—”

“Fifty tons sounds like a lot to you, does it?” he said. “Pavlov, our city food chief, is feeding three million people on a thousand tons of flour a day. How’s that?”

“What he is giving us now amounts to a thousand tons?” Tatiana said, startled.

“Yes,” Alexander replied, shaking his head and looking at her with uneasy dismay.

“And they’re bringing only fifty tons by plane?”

“Yes again. Fifty tons of not just flour.”

“How is the remaining nine hundred fifty tons getting here?”

“Lake Ladoga. Thirty kilometers north of the blockade line. Barges.”

“Shura,” said Tatiana, “but these thousand tons, if we didn’t have our own supplies, we wouldn’t be able to make it. We couldn’t live on what they give us.”

Alexander didn’t say anything.

Tatiana stared at him and then turned her head away. She wanted to go home instantly and count how many cans of ham they had left.

“Why can’t they fly more planes in?” she asked.

“Because all the planes in the army are being directed to the Battle of Moscow.”

“What about the Battle of Leningrad?” Tatiana said faintly, not expecting an answer and not getting one.

“Do you think the blockade will be lifted before the winter?” she said in a small voice. “The radio reports keep saying we’re trying to establish a foothold here, make a break there, pontoon bridges. What do you think?”

Alexander didn’t answer, and Tatiana didn’t look at him again until they left the store.

“Are you coming home with me?”

“Yes, Tania,” said Alexander. “I’m coming home with you.”

She nodded. “Come on then. With the butter you gave me, I’ll make nice hot oatmeal for breakfast. I’ll make you some eggs.”

“You still have oatmeal left?”

“Hmm. I will say that it’s getting harder and harder to keep them all away from the food between meals. I think Babushka and Marina are the biggest culprits. I think they eat the oatmeal uncooked right out of the bag.”

“Do you, Tatia?” Alexander asked. “Do you eat oatmeal right out of the bag?”

“Not yet,” replied Tatiana. She didn’t mention how badly she wanted to. How she put her face inside the oat bag and smelled its sickly, slightly moldy aroma, wishing for butter and for sugar and for milk, and for eggs.

“You should,” Alexander said.

They walked slowly along the misty Fontanka Canal. It reminded Tatiana a little of Obvodnoy Canal during their Kirov summer days. Her heart hurt. Three blocks away from home, they both slowed down, then stopped and leaned against the cold building. “I wish there were a bench,” Tatiana said quietly.

Just as quietly, Alexander said, “Marazov told me about your father.” When Tatiana didn’t answer, he continued. “I am really sorry.” Pause. “Will you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she replied.

“It’s my helplessness,” Alexander continued, his eyes filling with loud frustration. “There’s just nothing I can do to protect you. And I tried. I tried from the very beginning. Remember Kirov?”

Tatiana remembered.

“All I wanted then was for you to leave Leningrad. I failed there. Failed to protect you against your father.” He shook his head. “How is your brow feeling?” He reached out and touched the healing bruise with his fingertips.

“It’s all right,” Tatiana said, moving away from him. Alexander put his hands down, looking at her with rebuke.

“How is Dimitri?” she asked. “Have you heard from him?”

Shaking his head, Alexander said, “What can I tell you about Dimitri? When I first went to Shlisselburg in mid-September, I said, come with me, come with my command. He refused. He said we were too unprotected there. All right, I said. Then I volunteered myself and a battalion of soldiers to go to Karelia and push the Finns back a bit.” He paused. “To give our trucks breathing room as they brought food from Ladoga to Leningrad. The Finns were just too close. The skirmishes that flared up between them and the gun-happy NKVD border troops constantly resulted in the death of some poor hapless truck driver, who was just trying to get food into the city. I told Di-mitri to come with me. Yes, it’s dangerous, I said. Yes, it’s attacking enemy territory, but if we succeed—”

“You will be heroes,” Tatiana said. “Have you succeeded?”

Quietly Alexander said, “Yes.”

Shaking her head in wonder, Tatiana gazed up at him. She hoped it was not blatantly obvious what she was feeling at that moment. “You volunteered for this?”

“Yes.”

“Did they promote you at least?”

He saluted her lightly and said, “I’m now Captain Belov. And see my new medal?”

“No, stop it!” she exclaimed, her mouth melting into a smile.

“What?” Alexander asked, his eyes roaming all over her face. “What? Are you… proud?”

“Hmm,” Tatiana said, trying to stop smiling.

“Which was my whole point with Dima,” continued Alexander. “If it worked out, he could have become a corporal. The higher up you go, the farther from the front line you are.”

Nodding, Tatiana said, “He is so shortsighted.”

“And worse,” said Alexander. “Because now he has been sent along with Kashnikov to Tikhvin. Marazov followed me. Became first lieutenant. But Dima was transported in a barge across Ladoga, and he is now part of tens of thousands of men, one and all cannon fodder for Schmidt.”