Waiting 

Chapter 29

1946, Yerevan

 

            “You’re so beautiful,” Avet said, reached for Shushan’s hand.

            She missed him so much, his tender voice, his gentle touch.

            “What a lovely day,” she said, pulled her hand back, “I’d like to take a walk.” Always self-conscious about her hands – too big, calloused, skin so rough.

            He stood up, held his arm out, like a true gentleman. She got up, took his arm. They walked down the trail paved with garden flowers: blue, pink, red, white petunias, begonias, lilies of all types on both sides, crunchy gravel under their feet. Avet handsome. His eyes blue like she remembered, hair thinner, combed back, not left to right like before. 

            “Tell me about the war,” she said. 

            “Ahh, not a place you want to know about,” he said.

            “I want to know about you. Imagine you didn’t have much to eat.”

            “Learned not to feel hunger.”

            “You ever scared?”

            “All the time, but never enough time to think about fear.”

            “Your medals, you have so many.”

            “This one here - the Order of First Degree - for those wounded at the front line. This, the Order of Badge of Honor - for study, learning, labor.  The Medal for Battle Merit – for Kerch, my last one, December 1943.” 

            “You must feel proud, Avet. I’m very proud of you.”

            “I’d have a reason to be proud had I lived.”

            “Did you miss anything?”

            “I missed you the most. Not a day went by without you right here, in my heart.” Avet bent over, picked a single blue lily from the bed of flowers. “A shushan for my Shushan.” 

            She reached for the flower, her heart signaling pleasure inside her chest. Hah! Stopped short of breath. Look at that! A beetle emerged from the center of the flower. So careful, so gentle, opened its blue, shimmering wings, flew away. 

            “I take this as a sign she must be all right,” Shushan said.

            “A sign of what?” 

            “Tamar. I do worry about her. Gave her the brooch, the blue enameled beetle Pa sent from America, before she left to live with Sosse՛ in Tiflis. She had trouble, my girl. So much you missed, Avet. The beetle, a sign for Tamar’s new start in life, free of guilt, bad luck. She’ll be all right.”

            “Tell me, Shushan, what else have I missed?”

            “Davo, my son, our youngest, in heaven, I’m sure.”

            “What happened, Shushan? Maybe I can find him here, I just don’t know what my boy looks like. You’re right. I have missed a lot.”

            “Wish he would’ve killed that son-of-a-bitch, Matos Sukiassian, instead of wrecking his damned car. My Davo, so proud, wouldn’t let anyone disrespect his mother, his sisters. He did it for Tamar, for our family’s honor. They beat him to death, Avet. The Sukiassian boys killed your son. You didn’t protect him!”

            “I’m sorry, Shushan. I’m so sorry for disappointing you. I went to fight the Nazis, didn’t think of my neighbors as enemies, although their father… Ehh. No use. Can I tell you a secret?”

            “Tell me later, Avet. The doctor’s calling me. He takes good care of me here, at the sanatorium.”

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