Alexander caught up and led them down the street. The
Voentorg
store was just around the corner.
“I ran into him on the bus,” Tatiana replied to Dimitri. “He took pity on me and offered his help.”
“Well, it was certainly lucky for you,” Dimitri said. “No one likes to help out a damsel in distress as much as our Alexander.”
“I’m hardly a damsel in distress,” Tatiana muttered, while Alexander prodded her with his hand, directing her inside the store and ending the conversation.
Tatiana was amazed at what she found behind a simple glass door with a sign on it that said officers only. First, there was no line. Second, the store was stocked full of sacks and bags and smelled of smoked ham and fish, enveloped in the aroma of cigarettes and coffee.
Alexander asked her how much money she had, and she told him, thinking the sum would stun him. He merely shrugged and said, “We could spend it all on sugar, but let’s be provident, shall we?”
“I don’t know what I’m buying for. So how can I be provident?”
“Buy,” he said, “as if you’re never going to see these goods again.”
She gave him her money without a second thought.
He bought for her four kilos of sugar, four kilos of white flour, three kilos of oats, five kilos of barley, three kilos of coffee, ten cans of marinated mushrooms, and five cans of tomatoes. Also she bought a kilo of black caviar, and with the few rubles that were left she bought two cans of ham to please her Deda. To please herself she bought a small bar of chocolate.
Smiling, Alexander told her he would pay for the chocolate out of his own money and bought her five bars.
He suggested she buy matches. Tatiana mildly scoffed at this, because, she pointed out—she thought cleverly—you couldn’t eat matches. He suggested she buy some motor oil. She told him she didn’t have a car. He said to buy it anyway. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be spending her father’s money on something as silly as oil and matches.
“But, Tania,” Alexander pointed out, “how are you going to put the flour you’re buying to good use if you don’t have a match to light the fire? It’ll be hard to bake that bread.”
She relented only after she found out the matches were a few kopecks, and even then she bought only one box of 200.
“Don’t forget the motor oil, Tania.”
“When I get a car, I’ll buy the motor oil.”
“What if there is no kerosene this winter?” said Alexander.
“So what?” she said. “We have electricity.”
He folded his arms. “Buy it,” he said.
“Did you say this winter?” Tatiana waved him off. “What are you talking about, winter? It’s June. We’re not going to be fighting the Germans this winter.”
“Tell that to the Londoners,” said Alexander. “Tell that to the French, to the Belgians, to the Dutch. They’ve been fighting…”
“If you can call what the French did fighting.”
Laughing, Alexander said, “Tatiana, buy the motor oil. You won’t regret it.”
She would have listened to him, but the voice of her father in her head was stronger, admonishing her for wasting his money. She refused.
She asked the shop assistant for a rubber band and tied up her hair nice and neat while Alexander was paying. Tatiana asked how they were going to get all the provisions home.
Dimitri said, “Don’t worry. That’s why I came along.”
“Dima,” said Alexander. “I really think we’ll be all right.”
“Alexander,” said Tatiana. “We do have a lot of…”
“Dimitri the packhorse,” said Dimitri. “Glad to be of service to you, Alexander.” He smirked.
Tatiana noted the smirk, remembering her feeling that when Dimitri walked into the store, past the glass door with the sign officers only, he had been as surprised as Tatiana to find himself inside the
Voentorg
.
“Are you and Alexander in the same unit?” Tatiana asked Dimitri as they piled her provisions into wooden apple crates and left the
Voentorg
store was just around the corner.
“I ran into him on the bus,” Tatiana replied to Dimitri. “He took pity on me and offered his help.”
“Well, it was certainly lucky for you,” Dimitri said. “No one likes to help out a damsel in distress as much as our Alexander.”
“I’m hardly a damsel in distress,” Tatiana muttered, while Alexander prodded her with his hand, directing her inside the store and ending the conversation.
Tatiana was amazed at what she found behind a simple glass door with a sign on it that said officers only. First, there was no line. Second, the store was stocked full of sacks and bags and smelled of smoked ham and fish, enveloped in the aroma of cigarettes and coffee.
Alexander asked her how much money she had, and she told him, thinking the sum would stun him. He merely shrugged and said, “We could spend it all on sugar, but let’s be provident, shall we?”
“I don’t know what I’m buying for. So how can I be provident?”
“Buy,” he said, “as if you’re never going to see these goods again.”
She gave him her money without a second thought.
He bought for her four kilos of sugar, four kilos of white flour, three kilos of oats, five kilos of barley, three kilos of coffee, ten cans of marinated mushrooms, and five cans of tomatoes. Also she bought a kilo of black caviar, and with the few rubles that were left she bought two cans of ham to please her Deda. To please herself she bought a small bar of chocolate.
Smiling, Alexander told her he would pay for the chocolate out of his own money and bought her five bars.
He suggested she buy matches. Tatiana mildly scoffed at this, because, she pointed out—she thought cleverly—you couldn’t eat matches. He suggested she buy some motor oil. She told him she didn’t have a car. He said to buy it anyway. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be spending her father’s money on something as silly as oil and matches.
“But, Tania,” Alexander pointed out, “how are you going to put the flour you’re buying to good use if you don’t have a match to light the fire? It’ll be hard to bake that bread.”
She relented only after she found out the matches were a few kopecks, and even then she bought only one box of 200.
“Don’t forget the motor oil, Tania.”
“When I get a car, I’ll buy the motor oil.”
“What if there is no kerosene this winter?” said Alexander.
“So what?” she said. “We have electricity.”
He folded his arms. “Buy it,” he said.
“Did you say this winter?” Tatiana waved him off. “What are you talking about, winter? It’s June. We’re not going to be fighting the Germans this winter.”
“Tell that to the Londoners,” said Alexander. “Tell that to the French, to the Belgians, to the Dutch. They’ve been fighting…”
“If you can call what the French did fighting.”
Laughing, Alexander said, “Tatiana, buy the motor oil. You won’t regret it.”
She would have listened to him, but the voice of her father in her head was stronger, admonishing her for wasting his money. She refused.
She asked the shop assistant for a rubber band and tied up her hair nice and neat while Alexander was paying. Tatiana asked how they were going to get all the provisions home.
Dimitri said, “Don’t worry. That’s why I came along.”
“Dima,” said Alexander. “I really think we’ll be all right.”
“Alexander,” said Tatiana. “We do have a lot of…”
“Dimitri the packhorse,” said Dimitri. “Glad to be of service to you, Alexander.” He smirked.
Tatiana noted the smirk, remembering her feeling that when Dimitri walked into the store, past the glass door with the sign officers only, he had been as surprised as Tatiana to find himself inside the
Voentorg
.
“Are you and Alexander in the same unit?” Tatiana asked Dimitri as they piled her provisions into wooden apple crates and left the
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