Her Exile

Natasha pulled her long, charcoal grey coat around her red velvet dress, against the cold Autumn night air.  As she approached the green dome illuminated by amber light, she reminded herself that being in exile somewhere else could be worse. Despite being what felt like so far east in Central Europe, she knew that she could've have suffered a far worse fate for her prolonged political estrangement.  

   As she watched the other racing green motor cars, all newly polished and gleaming from the inside with their lacquered chestnut dashboards and golden horns, it reminded her of her first invitation to a ball. Fresh into her 20's she had accepted an invitation from a charming Jewish lawyer some 10 years her senior, who she'd met at the Stadt synagogue when she had first arrived.  He had made her laugh with his wit and wisdom combined with his modern yet traditional view of the insular and somewhat suffocating Jewish life in Vienna.  One sleepy shabbat she had perused both his leather bound anthologies on Chinese art and volumes of discursive dialogue within the Talmud as he had rested in the adjacent room. They had not cooked the previous day and so the only thing to eat were packets of dry, chocolate gugelhupf that he kept in his kitchen draws and copious amounts of Russian tea from the Samova that had been lit the day before.  She kept searching the sky for some sign of the light changing or for three stars, but she waited for what seemed like days and only saw one star faintly beckoning to her.  She had shared her pain with him by telling him about her pedantic father, only allowing her to read his library of books when she had visited him.  Since her father no longer lived with her mother, she had to endure months without access to such wealth of knowledge and was always forbidden to remove any book from their sacred place.  Upon telling this story to the kind Jewish lawyer, he had arranged a generous stack of diverse books upon his mahogany dining room table, with a small note on the back of a Paul Klee postcard.  

Dear Natasha, 

                         I may not be able to heal the pain of the past, but I hope in some way this little selection goes in some way to giving you peace and knowledge in the present and that you may enjoy this tiny slice of "Schokoladenkuchen" whilst reading

When Natasha had found this little gift for her one cold Feb. day in Vienna some months before it had melted her heart as she sat down and read as the rain beat on the large glass windows overlooking the 2nd district.

     A bright horn and young laughter jolted Natasha back to the present.  She remembered herself, older now and walked gently to the grand entrance where her heels sunk into the thick, red carpet and she found Dmitry, in his black tie, waiting for her.  

   "Are you sure you want to go in together"

  "Why wouldn't I"? Dmitry curves his open arm to Natasha

  "Someone might see us"? 

  "And that would be a tragedy"? Dmitry teases

  "It depends who it is" Natasha smiles a little nervously and lets herself relax a little into the warmth of his arm.

Into the bright hall way lit by crystal chandeliers they walked up the white marble steps adorned with bouquets of deep red roses the colour of Natasha's velvet gown.  It suddenly brought Natasha back to her first time at the ball with the Jewish lawyer who had been so kind to her.  The roses back then had matched her dress as well, but then they reflected her naivety with a pale pink and white hues. How curious now that she was older, even the roses had changed with her in time.  

   Tchaikovsky's Symphony number 5 echoed down the sweeping staircase and Dmitry glances down to Natasha, and his lips curl up to a smile.  She reflects his gaze as they walk into the crowd, allowing the glamour dazzle them both, soothing away their many fears and sorrows.

    Then as now, Natasha had been overwhelmed by the open displays of ornament and beauty. He beginnings had been full of hard times.  Discipline and responsibility had been required of her daily, without time to dream or indulge in emotions.  So she had learnt to lock them up inside herself, looking after the needs of others without question.  Yet now in the arms of Dmitry as he took her to the ballroom floor, they turned together through unspoken understanding. She felt herself to be in a dream, away from everything that was harsh, unfair and ugly about the world. Back then the kind Jewish lawyer had taken the lead to the Waltz so that everything had whirled around so suddenly, so that she could no longer feel her feet upon the ground anymore, yet, here, now, with Dmitry it was a completely different feeling. She felt grounded and in control of herself and yet, free from the shackles of time and worry.  Everything was not a blur as it had been before. She could see so clearly the curves of women's long bare necks and the crisp, thick, white cuffs accented by ebony sleeves and the glimmer of diamond necklaces under the amber chandelier lights. As a young woman, she had let herself be led and swept off her feet without hesitation, yet now and here she felt herself to be composed yet gently allowing herself to follow Dmitry in her own way giving grace to him through choice, yet holding her own. 

    The waltz ended and out of breath they led each other to the grand hall smiling joyfully at each other's generosity, yet keeping their own, strong individuality.  Suddenly, as Tchaikovsky's violins jolt them back to the present, they almost walk straight into a young woman on the arm of an older man.  He is wearing an Austrian military uniform and sporting a heavy emperor beard.  

"Pardon" exclaims Dmitry and bows his head but as he looks up, he see the young innocent and surprised face of Alina.  "Alina, I didn't know you were going to be here" Dmitry stumbles forgetting himself for a second. "Pardon, sir" Dmitry drops his arm from supporting Natasha, who slightly falls back as he extends his hand abruptly and formally to Alina's regimental father who clears his throat and mumbles a " Guten Abend" through the curtains of his thick kaiser beard. 

"I heard that you were in town, Dmitry" Alina speaks curtly, but in her girlish voice that seems a little incongruent with her tone "I was expecting that you may pay us a visit..." She glances briefly up to her father for reassurance "..before too long"

"Why, yes, yes of course"..Dmitry bumbles out an answer keeping his eyes lowered as Alina glares back at him ever more reddening as she looks first to him and then to Natasha, who is standing now a little apart from them.  Natasha gathers swathes of her red velvet dress with her black, satin gloved hand and smiles gently back at Alina who's lips are now pursed, and her cheeks begin to match the deep red of Natasha's dress.  Dmitry stands still almost to attention bowing his head ever so slightly as the silence grows heavy in the air between them. It feels as if it is gaining weight with every slow second that passes.

"Well..." Alina's father coughs and clears his throat behind his kaiser beard and mumbles "Come along now Alina, there are some families I would like you to meet". 

"Guten Abend Sir" Dmitry stands upright to attention as Alina's father guides his daughter away dressed in her white satin gown, contrasting her blushed cheeks.

"Yes, well, Guten Abend.." Alina's father mumbles and takes her away.  As she is guided into the elegantly adorned crowd, she glares back at Natasha and Dmitry.  Dmitry remains stiffly frozen until they disappear.

   Natasha touches Dmitry's arm gently, as he stands with his head still bowed. "They've gone" she whispers. 
"Yes, but not for long" Dmitry answers quietly without looking at her. 
As they walk in silence it as if a somber, darker reality is pressing upon them both and taking hold.  Finally, after some time, Dmitry turns to Natasha and grabs her arms with both hands and looks down into her eyes and whispers intensely "Do you think is possible to ever live out your own truth? Or must we always submit to the constraints of our time?"

Natasha pauses knowing that she cannot give him the answer he is looking for her

"There will always be expectations of us, Dmitry"

"But must I only be that of which people expect of me and to live life as a lie"

"Perhaps some contentment can be found in bringing satisfaction to others by bowing to their expectations"

Dmitry abruptly lets Natasha go within his grip "You know, as well as I, you cannot live like this Natasha"

"I know I should not like to bring other's pain"

"and bring a lifetime of pain and regret to yourself instead"? Dmitry faces her accusingly, so much so, that Natasha lowers her eyes from his stare gently. "No, I didn't think you could, any more than I can".  His tone changes as he carefully and slowly removes the black satin glove from her hand. "Come with me"?

"Where"? Natasha looks back into Dimity's desperate eyes. 

"Back to Russia, away from Vienna, for now. To the fields and to home, my humble home, away from all this.." he waves his hands at the ornament that dazzles around them "Back to just you and me and the simple joys of just understanding and being with each other, away from expectations of any kind."

  Natasha sees that people are looking at Dmitry being so close to her. She looks down at her ungloved hand and how he is holding it so tenderly within his, beyond that of a just a kind gentlemen accompanying an unmarried woman.

"I think that you are overstepping your duty" Natasha laughs a little nervously eyeing the stares that are gathering around her. Dmitry refuses to lift his gaze from her and answers quietly, drawing her in with his words "Come with me Natasha".   

(c) Jtamsin

Jessica White