The Silence of Trees by Valya Dudycz Lupescu

Author:Valya Dudycz Lupescu [Lupescu, Valya Dudycz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Genre Fiction, Historical, Cultural Heritage, Literary, Women's Fiction, Domestic Life, Contemporary Fiction, Family Life, Historical Fiction, European, Literary Fiction, Romance, The Silence of Trees, Valya Dudycz Lupescu, kindle edition
ISBN: 0982126131
Amazon: B004HO65M2
Publisher: Wolfsword Press
Published: 2011-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Pavlo walked in from the wind, smelling of the rain. He went to the cupboard to get a mug and sat down across from me at the table. I could feel him staring at me as I went through some paperwork. I ignored his gaze and kept sorting. I had been trying to move on, but even after burning the envelope, I was plagued by "what ifs?" Had it not been for the rain, would I have gone with Stephan and abandoned everyone and everything? Or did the rain somehow protect me from an even worse fate? What if I had never left the house?

"Can you stop what you’re doing and talk with me?" Pavlo asked.

"What?" I looked up at my husband.

"Talk with me."

Could he be sick? "What’s wrong, Pavlo?"

I put aside my papers and poured his coffee.

"Nothing’s wrong," he said. "I just wanted you to sit and talk with me. We don’t do much of that anymore."

He was right. When the kids still lived in the house, every Saturday morning we would sit and drink coffee and talk. I would come home from work, and he’d have the coffee ready for me, along with some kind of fresh baked sweets that he had picked up at the bakery, usually chocolate.

We talked about work and our friends, the house and our kids. We compared notes about how they were doing in school, what their challenges and accomplishments were that week. When the kids moved away, we still talked about work and eventually our grandchildren. Then we both retired, and the ritual stopped.

The kids were the glue that kept us together. Without them to discuss, we only had work. Without work to discuss, we stopped making an effort. I would talk with Ana or the neighborhood ladies. He would talk with his chess buddies and the other old men in the neighborhood. The years passed, and we stopped talking to each other. Really talking.

I hadn’t thought about our Saturday coffees in years.

"What’s on your mind, Pavlo?"

"Do you think the domovyk is angry at us?" he asked, reaching for the sugar.

I laughed. "Why do you ask such a question?" I spread honey on my bread.

"Well, I can’t find my glasses, my left slipper, or my toenail clippers."

"You’ve probably just misplaced them, old man, like you ‘lost’ your keys next to the bathtub, or your umbrella under the couch."

"Listen here, old lady. I’m not convinced those were my fault either. See, I’ve been thinking about this. I have determined that too many disappearing things are blamed on old age. I believe they are really taken by mischievous house spirits to get our attention, to remind us of something."

"That’s what you believe, eh?" I said, in between bites of bread. Wiping my mouth, I asked, "Do you feel your hair being pulled when you’re alone? Have you heard groans or moans in the night?"

"Only yours," he said, reaching for my hand.

I felt myself redden and pulled away. "And what are we being reminded of? The domovyk would have no reason to be disturbed.

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