Lost Believers by Irina Zhorov

Author:Irina Zhorov
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2023-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

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Agafia kept a log clean of snow outside of the hut to sit, even in the winter. Often Peter reclined on the log whittling figurines out of branches and whistling, looking himself like a rustic statuette in repose. If she spied him in her spot, Agafia usually stayed indoors. When she peeked out on an unusually cold afternoon, she instead found Pavel. The dogs saw him too, and barked at their owner’s appearance.

She and Hugo came out with wooden cups of tea. The wood didn’t keep her hands warm, but she liked to lower her face into the steam until condensation covered it, dewy drops on her lashes and a rawness on her cheeks. If she didn’t wipe it away, the droplets crystallized into a wafer of delicate armor. When she moved her face, the ice cracked, and she’d repeat the ritual until the tea cooled and the steam failed to rise.

Hugo grumbled about the cold, rubbing his hands together and stomping his feet. When the air is always cold, degrees of misery barely register, but this evening the air itself crystallized into needles and froze their nose hairs. Each inhale stunning, sharp.

“Let’s make snow!” Pavel said. He was in unusually good spirits.

“As if there were a shortage,” Hugo cackled.

Pavel went inside and put a pot of water to boil on the stove. When the surface broke with bubbles, he carried the pot outside.

“One, two, three,” he counted.

He thrust the pot up, sending hot water into the air.

“Poof!”

The droplets candied in the icy air and drifted back down to the ground in a gossamer mist.

“Magic,” Agafia mouthed. The night was otherwise clear, and she stepped into the cloud and let the crystals settle on her.

“It’s early afternoon but already it’s so dark,” Pavel said when all the snow had fallen.

Hugo looked around, as if to confirm the darkness.

“What’d you dream about last night?” Agafia asked.

To pass the time, the family recounted their dreams. She and Hugo had stopped when Dima and Natalia died because they were each dreaming of the others.

“In my dream we lived in a village, in a house with a goat tied out front, a bearded fellow with yellow eyes that bleated when we came in from working in our fields,” Hugo said. “He came in from the forest one day, all white with black ears and a black spot around his eye. At first, I thought it was the devil come to warm himself by our fire. But in time I came to trust this goat, even to love him, in my dream. When I came in from the fields I was glad to see him at the hut waiting for me. In the old life I had a dog like this, that came and went with me everywhere and waited for me outside of church, but in my dream it was a goat, which is just as well.

“The village—it was Belovod’e. We had finally made it there and it was as glorious as I knew it would be.

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