There Are Jews in My House by Lara Vapnyar

Author:Lara Vapnyar [Vapnyar, Lara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307429698
Published: 2007-12-17T23:00:00+00:00

A Question for Vera

THE ROLL on Katya’s plate was growing. She could swear that when she’d started eating it forty minutes ago it was smaller. Katya raised her eyes off the plate and looked around. There were only three of them left at the tables, three slow eaters: Vova Libman, Nina Domova, and Katya. Katya’s best friend Aziza would have been there too if she hadn’t stayed home with the flu.

Other kids had already finished their midday snack and were allowed to play. They played in the same room where they ate—a big square room painted yellow, with a play section on the right side, a dining section on the left, a kitchen in front and a bathroom in the back—a typical Moscow preschool. Katya could hear chattering, crying, laughter, shrieks, and the clatter of toys. She could be playing too if not for the roll. With a sigh, she took another bite. The roll was not only growing; it was also getting harder. Katya now had to bite with much more force. She peeked into her plastic white mug—it was empty. She considered asking the teacher for more milk but decided against it. Maybe it would help her swallow, but then she would have to deal with the roll and the milk too.

Their teacher, Elena Borisovna, was sitting on the windowsill, cleaning her fingernails with a kitchen knife. Her hips, clad in a light-blue skirt, were spread on the windowsill like a big pillow. She was drumming with a heavy heel of her shoe against the wall: “Boom, boom, boom.” Elena Ivanovna had long, twisted hairs growing in the middle of her cheek. She wouldn’t let anybody leave the table before they finished, even if only a tiny piece was left on a plate.

The possibility of being the last to finish the meal—of being left all alone in the dining area—filled Katya with horror. If Aziza had been there, Katya wouldn’t be so nervous. She and Aziza often finished last. They timed their chewing and swallowed carefully so they would complete a meal at the same time. Then they showed their empty plates to the teacher and went off to play together. But today Aziza wasn’t here.

Katya craned her neck to peek at Vova’s and Nina’s plates. Vova, a scrawny little boy with bent red ears, wasn’t eating; he was just staring at his untouched roll hopelessly, while his eyes filled with tears. Each day Elena Borisovna said to him, “A boy crying! What a sight!” Katya was happy to be a girl. Girls were allowed to cry, to wear nice ruffled dresses and try on their mothers’ jewelry. Vova Libman didn’t care if he was a boy or a girl; he cried all the time. He cried, and when he calmed down, he picked his nose and ate his boogers. If Nina Domova finished first, only Katya and Vova would be left sitting at the table, which would be even worse than having to sit alone.

Katya peeked at Nina Domova’s plate.

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