Tatiana and Alexander

“Nineteen.”

“God, they start early where you’re from. Where are you from?”

“Soviet Union.”

“Wow. How’d you get this baby anyway? You have a husband?”

Tatiana opened her mouth, but Vikki went on as if the question had not been asked. Before she drew her next breath, she told Tatiana that she herself had never known her father (“Dead, or gone, all the same”) and barely knew her mother (“Had me too young”) who was in San Francisco, living with two men (“Not in the same apartment”) and pretending to be either sick (“Yes, mentally”) or dying (“From all that passion”). Vikki had been raised by her maternal grandparents (“They love Mumsy but they don’t approve of her”) and was living with them still (“Less fun than you might think”). She had originally wanted to be a journalist, then a manicurist (“In both professions you work with your hands; I thought it was a natural progression”) and finally decided (“Was forced to, more like it,”) to go into nursing when the European war looked like it would suck the United States into it. Tatiana was listening quietly and attentively when Vikki suddenly looked at her and said, “Got a husband?”

“Once.”

“Yeah?” Vikki sighed. “Once. Would that I had a husband once—”

At that moment their conversation was interrupted by a painfully angular, very tall, immaculately dressed woman in a white brim hat, walking briskly through the dining hall, swinging her white purse and yelling, “Vikki! I’m talking to you! Vikki! Have you seen him?”

Vikki sighed and rolled her eyes at Tatiana. “No, Mrs. Ludlow. I haven’t seen him today. I think he is still cross-town at NYU. He is here on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.”

“Afternoons? He’s not at NYU! And how do you know his schedule so well?”

“I’ve worked with him for two years.”

“Well, I’ve been married to him for eight and I still don’t know where the hell he is.” She came up to the table and towered over the two girls. She eyed Tatiana suspiciously. “Who are you?”

Tatiana pulled up her cloth mask from her neck to her mouth. Vikki stepped in. “She is from the Soviet Union. She barely speaks English.”

“Well, she should learn, shouldn’t she, if she expects to earn her keep in this country. We’re at war, we have no business supporting wards.” And swinging her purse, nearly hitting Tatiana on the head, the woman swept from the dining room.

“Who she?” asked Tatiana.

Vikki waved her hand. “Never mind her. The less you know about her, the better. That’s Dr. Ludlow’s crazy wife. She storms in here once a week looking for her husband.”

“Why she keep losing him?”

Vikki laughed. “The question I think should be why does Dr. Ludlow let himself be lost so often.”

“All right, why?”

Vikki waved Tatiana off. Tatiana understood. Vikki did not want to be talking about Dr. Ludlow. With a small smile, Tatiana appraised Vikki. Now that she had stopped crying, Tatiana could see that Vikki was a striking girl, a proper girl who was pretty and knew it and did everything to make sure everyone knew it. Her hair was shiny and long and swept over her face and shoulders, her eyes were outlined in black eyeliner and runny mascara, and her full lips had traces of bright red lipstick. Her white uniform was tight on her long-limbed figure and came just a touch too high above the knee. Tatiana wondered how the wounded men responded to so much … Vikki.

“Vikki, why you cry? You not love your husband?”

“Oh, I love him, all right. I love him.” She sighed. “I just wish I could love him from five thousand miles away.” Lowering her voice, she continued. “This is really not a good time for him to come back.”

“For husband to come back to his wife?” When was not a good time for that?

“I wasn’t expecting him.” She started to cry again, into her coffee. Tatiana moved the cup away slightly so Vikki could finish the coffee later if she wanted to.

“When were you …?” What was the word? Expecting?

“At Christmas!”

“Oh. Why he coming home so soon?”

“Can you believe it? He was shot down over the Pacific.”

Tatiana stared.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Viktoria said dismissively. “It’s a scrape. A little superficial shoulder wound. He flew the plane ninety miles after he was shot. How bad could it be?”

Tatiana stood from the table. “I think I go feed my son.”

“Yes, but Chris is going to be miserable.”

“Who is Chris?”

“Dr. Pandolfi. You haven’t met him? He comes here with Dr. Ludlow.”

Chris Pandolfi. That’s right. “Oh, I met him.” Dr. Pandolfi was the doctor who had come aboard the ship she was on and decided he was not going to help to deliver her baby on U.S… . soil. He wanted to send her back to the Soviet Union, broken amniotic waters, TB and all. It was Edward Ludlow who had said no and made Dr. Pandolfi help get Tatiana to the hospital on Ellis Island. Tatiana patted Vikki on the shoulder. She wasn’t sure Chris Pandolfi was such a great catch. “You be fine, Viktoria. Maybe stay away from Dr. Pandolfi. Your husband is coming home. You are so lucky.”

Viktoria got up and followed Tatiana down the hall to her room. “Call me Vikki,” she said. “Can I call you Jane?”

“Who?”

“Isn’t your name Jane?”

“You call me Tania.”

“Why would I call you Tania when your name is Jane?”

“Tania my name. Jane just on documents.” She saw Vikki’s uninterested and confused face. “Call me what you like.”

“When are you getting out?”

“Getting out?”

“Out of Ellis.”

Tatiana thought about it. “I do not think I am getting out,” she said. “I have nowhere to go.”

Vikki followed Tatiana into her room and glanced at her son sleeping in his bassinet. “He’s kind of little,” she said absent-mindedly, touching Tatiana’s blonde hair. “His father was dark-haired?”

“Yes.”

“So what’s it like being a mother?”

“It’s—”

“Well, when you’re all better, I want you to come home with me. Meet Grammy and Grampa. They love little babies. They keep wanting me to have one.” Vikki shook her head. “God help me.” She glanced again at Anthony. “He’s sort of cute. Too bad his father has never seen him.”