nonsense.”
“No, you’re the one talking to bears. I’m talking to you. Look at me, Sasha.” She pulled the arms of my topcoat, turning me toward her. She was still strong. My shoulders lurched forward. “Look at me, not the stupid bear.”
I looked down at her. I hadn’t looked at anyone like that in years. It’s not like I hadn’t been up close to a woman. If anything, I’d seen far too many faces.
I wasn’t looking at Anna like I did at other women. I wasn’t trying to determine the precise spot on her skin that needed a touch of my fingertips. No, I was looking at someone whose face I already knew well but through age and time looked both familiar and strangely new. I took it all in the way, perhaps, someone takes in new scenery as they cross over a hill on a day when the sun’s light is just so, exposing every detail.
There was a little scar above Anna’s right eye, just a light-colored line on her otherwise olive skin that even when she was young would form into a wrinkle when she raised her brow. She didn’t know how she got it, she said. There were her rounded cheekbones, oddly similar to those of my mother, high on her face and broad as if they were specifically designed to allow her cheeks to be warmed by the sun. I knew these features well. I could have recalled them any time I wished. But there were also the shadows and lines that had developed over time, different than mine, finer and deeper etches along the lids of her eyes, furrows where there had once been the subtlest pair of curves accentuating her chin and lips.
“You’re smiling at me,” I said.
“It feels good to smile. I didn’t know until recently.”
“You’re becoming an American, it seems.”
“No, never. Not that. It’s good to be here, though. You’re the American, not me.”
“Not really.”
“Maybe not really. Not among women.”
“How am I with women?”
“Big phony. A Russian accent comes out of nowhere. Your eyes droop sad like a puppy. I know you.”
“You’re amused by my behavior, are you?”
“Yes, very amused. Was at any rate. But don’t you think it’s getting old? Tell me true now.”
“And what about you. Three husbands. Five years and then what, poof? You throw them out.”
“That’s over. I’m going to find myself a real man, successful, and hold onto him no matter what. I’m getting too old to be alone. Look at me. I’m telling the truth.”
“You are. I can see it. I really can. I guess I’ll be going to a wedding soon.”
“One more, yes. I want a big one. One last big wedding.”
“Could be you and me.”
“That’s disgusting. Incest almost. Your mother wouldn’t approve. I’m going to find someone who knows he’s getting something special.”
“The bear is what’s watching us, not my mother.”
“Forget the bear. You and your fucking bear. Smile for me, Sasha.”
“Like this?”
“No, not like that. That’s stupid. A real smile. Not some fake thing. I’ve seen you do it. I know you can do it.”
“I need to think of something good, Anna.” I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up something that would make me smile the way that I knew Anna wanted me to. “Tell me what to think.”
“I don’t know. Maybe the pond over there next to the road. Where we used to go sometimes that first winter, when you were little. You’d put on your skates in the warming house and then show me how good you were on the ice. Little boy showing off. Remember?”
“Yeah, sure, I remember.”
“I’d watch you skate. You were so happy. That’s the kind of smile I want to see.”
I concentrated as best I could. The cold air is, indeed, ideal for isolating thoughts and maybe even acting on them, if not physically, at least emotionally and mentally. In my mind I was a kid skating backward on the ice, knowing someone beautiful was giving me a visual embrace. What boy wouldn’t smile in response to that?
“That was better,” Anna said. “I saw the little boy in
“No, you’re the one talking to bears. I’m talking to you. Look at me, Sasha.” She pulled the arms of my topcoat, turning me toward her. She was still strong. My shoulders lurched forward. “Look at me, not the stupid bear.”
I looked down at her. I hadn’t looked at anyone like that in years. It’s not like I hadn’t been up close to a woman. If anything, I’d seen far too many faces.
I wasn’t looking at Anna like I did at other women. I wasn’t trying to determine the precise spot on her skin that needed a touch of my fingertips. No, I was looking at someone whose face I already knew well but through age and time looked both familiar and strangely new. I took it all in the way, perhaps, someone takes in new scenery as they cross over a hill on a day when the sun’s light is just so, exposing every detail.
There was a little scar above Anna’s right eye, just a light-colored line on her otherwise olive skin that even when she was young would form into a wrinkle when she raised her brow. She didn’t know how she got it, she said. There were her rounded cheekbones, oddly similar to those of my mother, high on her face and broad as if they were specifically designed to allow her cheeks to be warmed by the sun. I knew these features well. I could have recalled them any time I wished. But there were also the shadows and lines that had developed over time, different than mine, finer and deeper etches along the lids of her eyes, furrows where there had once been the subtlest pair of curves accentuating her chin and lips.
“You’re smiling at me,” I said.
“It feels good to smile. I didn’t know until recently.”
“You’re becoming an American, it seems.”
“No, never. Not that. It’s good to be here, though. You’re the American, not me.”
“Not really.”
“Maybe not really. Not among women.”
“How am I with women?”
“Big phony. A Russian accent comes out of nowhere. Your eyes droop sad like a puppy. I know you.”
“You’re amused by my behavior, are you?”
“Yes, very amused. Was at any rate. But don’t you think it’s getting old? Tell me true now.”
“And what about you. Three husbands. Five years and then what, poof? You throw them out.”
“That’s over. I’m going to find myself a real man, successful, and hold onto him no matter what. I’m getting too old to be alone. Look at me. I’m telling the truth.”
“You are. I can see it. I really can. I guess I’ll be going to a wedding soon.”
“One more, yes. I want a big one. One last big wedding.”
“Could be you and me.”
“That’s disgusting. Incest almost. Your mother wouldn’t approve. I’m going to find someone who knows he’s getting something special.”
“The bear is what’s watching us, not my mother.”
“Forget the bear. You and your fucking bear. Smile for me, Sasha.”
“Like this?”
“No, not like that. That’s stupid. A real smile. Not some fake thing. I’ve seen you do it. I know you can do it.”
“I need to think of something good, Anna.” I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up something that would make me smile the way that I knew Anna wanted me to. “Tell me what to think.”
“I don’t know. Maybe the pond over there next to the road. Where we used to go sometimes that first winter, when you were little. You’d put on your skates in the warming house and then show me how good you were on the ice. Little boy showing off. Remember?”
“Yeah, sure, I remember.”
“I’d watch you skate. You were so happy. That’s the kind of smile I want to see.”
I concentrated as best I could. The cold air is, indeed, ideal for isolating thoughts and maybe even acting on them, if not physically, at least emotionally and mentally. In my mind I was a kid skating backward on the ice, knowing someone beautiful was giving me a visual embrace. What boy wouldn’t smile in response to that?
“That was better,” Anna said. “I saw the little boy in
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