Mother Tongue by Julie Mayhew

Author:Julie Mayhew [Mayhew, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781536206531
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2016-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

He came after midnight, the 40th Day over. The men at the tables had broken into song — sorrowful at first, growing rougher as the ghosts ascended. Jonathan had followed us around all day, he said, though I had looked for him in the gathering journalists and not seen him once.

“Very emotional,” he told me, no real emotion in his voice. Though I doubt there was any feeling left in mine either.

We leaned against the wall by the pile of empty vodka bottles, and he told me he had spent the past few hours at Aslan and Diana’s apartment, writing his copy, packing his bags.

“I wanted to bring you this.”

His eyes were animal-bright once again as he handed it over, wanting me to be delighted. It was an American newspaper turned to a large photograph of me. I stared at myself — wild and messy. I did not look beautiful at all. The picture seemed to suggest that I was responsible for the black shell of a school behind me. I was the dark-haired animal that had chewed through a wire. I tried to sound aloud the headline but the alphabet tripped me up.

“What does it say?”

“ ‘The Last Lost Hare,’ ” he said in English before offering me the translation. He was nervous about this, I could tell.

“But she isn’t lost,” I told him. “We found her.”

He shifted his boots in the mud.

“It isn’t talking about Nika.”

I handed the paper back.

“It’s yours to keep, Darya Pavlovna. I want you to have it.”

I shook my head. “What use is it to me?” I looked away, along the long line of the tables, my eyes searching for more rogue bottles, an excuse to walk away. It was too painful standing beside him, being drenched in his pity. I wanted his hand to take mine again, pull me in, as he had in the hallway, let his heart win, tell his mind to be quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he said deeply, meaning it. “I didn’t come here to . . . I didn’t want just stories. I wanted to get involved, so that is perhaps why I . . .”

Dmitriy caught my eye, a glance that asked hopefully, Can I rescue you? I pinched my brow, shook my head. Stupid boy! Of course not! Stay away!

“I wanted to do small things,” Jonathan went on. “Like the lessons. He who saves one man saves humanity. I do believe that.”

“But not one woman.”

“Well, this is it, Darya Pavlovna . . .” He turned to me with new passion. I saw him move to take my hands, then think better of it. “You are a woman now. So if you want to go to Moscow, you can just go. You are a smart and capable girl and —”

“Woman.”

“Yes, woman!”

I wasn’t his daughter. I wasn’t a little girl.

“You don’t need me to save you,” he said. “You don’t need me to take you there.”

I laughed bitterly. Jonathan thought the world was flat too. None of them understood. We turned to listen to the men as they started a new song with new vigor.

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