It was very odd, being spoken to. It hadnt happened for, well, quite a while. Anatoly Borisovich screwed up his eyes. Yes, the young mans mouth was definitely moving, the chiselled jaw jumping up and down, teeth winking. There were lots of words coming out, a jumble of sounds. He decided to listen, and did his best to tune in. He recognised the familiar crests and dips of the letter clusters, the sounds of syllables, but the words themselves seemed to be running into each other, racing, charging, leap-frogging even. He screwed up his nose.
The young man stopped. All was quiet. Anatoly Borisovich licked his lips, and his left eye twitched.
So what do you think? asked the young man. Anatoly Borisovich snuffled with satisfaction. Hed found the end of the ball of wool, the start and end of the phrase. Things were improving. Is that something you might be able to take part in?
Anatoly Borisovich hesitated. He hadnt understood anything else the boy had said. And although he wanted to speak, he couldnt marshal his tongue: it flopped shyly about in his mouth and hid behind his gums. Eventually he managed a smile, crinkling up his eyes, and let out a small groan.
The young man spoke again, more slowly. It is very simple. You tell me about your dementia well, I mean your forgetfulness, erm, your loss of memory and how it happened that you ended up in here, er, when was it Grey eyes danced across the notes. Thursday eighth of September? Almost a month ago. Anyway, I will analyse the information you give me, make a diagnosis, and then find a way of reducing your confusion, and your fears. So that you are happier. And maybe, you know you can go home, at some point. You had some kind of physical breakdown, didnt you? And a mental cataclysm of some sort? You were raving when you first came in?
Anatoly Borisovich nodded and flexed his mouth, preparing to speak, but the boy, sensing a positive reception, was quick to go on.
Your file is quite sparse, but potentially, I find you an interesting subject and anything you can tell me will be useful. Im a medical student, you see, and Im in the middle of my gerontology module. You will be my case study. The paper pad crinkled in his hands. I have to get it in by the end of October, so He looked into the old mans eyes. Its not just decrepitude, is it? There was something dramatic?
Anatoly Borisovich tried to speak, but the boy went on. You are willing to take part? Wait, turn your head to the light please? The young man paused, and squinted. Actually, I want to ask you about those scars. Scars can be a very good place to start. I have learnt, you see, they cause trauma not just to the skin. Anatoly Borisovich nodded, the corners of his mouth pressed downwards with the weight of his visitors insight. The boy went on. Maybe I can ask questions, and you can answer either yes or no, if that is all you can manage?
The boy finally stopped talking. Anatoly Borisovich gulped in air and pushed out some words.
Your name? What is your name? The sounds crawled across dry vocal cords.
Vlad, said the young man, passing him a beaker of stale water from the bedside cabinet.
Vlad? He sipped and coughed. What kind of a name is that?
The young man smiled and fidgeted with his pen, but made no attempt to answer.
I mean, the old man took another sip of water, Is it short for Vladimir, or Vladislav, or what? I cant talk to you if I dont know you. He spoke slowly, waving his fingers in the air to underline the words. If Vlad had been blessed with an imagination, he might have likened Anatoly Borisovich to a wizard.
I mean, the old man took another sip of water, Is it short for Vladimir, or Vladislav, or what? I cant talk to you if I dont know you. He spoke slowly, waving his fingers in the air to underline the words. If Vlad had been blessed with an imagination, he might have likened Anatoly Borisovich to a wizard.
Vladimir, the young man replied with a smirk.
Good. Anatoly Borisovich heaved a great sigh. You want to hear my story? I have never told it. Can you picture that? The young man was about to respond, so he went on swiftly, gathering pace. Truth be told, Id forgotten it. It was lost somewhere, somewhere in the trees, for so many years. But it has been coming back, while I have been lying here, seeing no one, being no one. His voice was almost inaudible, soft and dry like the whisper of grasses at the end of summer. I forgot my present, but remembered my past. Well, well And since you ask, so nicely I will tell you. But its strange to hear words in my own voice! Imagine that! His eyes lit up with dazed wonder: eyes that shone too brightly. Did you know what my voice sounded like? Ill bet you didnt. Youre the first person to show any interest. They feed me and wash me and prod me with sticks but but no one talks, no one listens. He pushed himself upright in the bed and bade Vlad shove another pillow behind his shoulders. What day is it?
Tuesday.
Expand? Anatoly Borisovich crinkled his face at Vlad.
Fourth of October. 1994.
Ah! Autumn already. He took another drink, and smacked his lips. The voice got louder. They never ask me how I am, you know: they just look at that chart, and ask me if I need the toilet, he carried on. They think Im a piss pot! He took childish delight in the word, chuckles hissing from his throat like air from an old tyre.
Vlad smiled and scratched his curly, chestnut head. Anatoly Borisovich noticed how the biceps quivered under the knit of his foreign-looking jumper.
I will put that right. Would you like some tea, perhaps? I can get an orderly to bring you some?
Ah! Tea! Yes! The old mans eyes shone, as if tea were a long-lost son.
A few minutes later, with the aid of some fragrant lubrication, the words tumbled briskly on his tongue.
Thank you, thank you! He stirred in a fistful of sugar cubes. Is that a pine tree out there? Beyond the fence? He took a sip, and sucked in his cabbage-leaf cheeks. These eyes are worn out with looking. I have looked long and hard, at many things, in many places. But I cant make it out. It moves, you see: sometimes nearer, sometimes further away. One night it was at the window. I think its a tree. It must be, mustnt it? If not a tree, well, I the old man stuttered and stopped, turning wide eyes to Vlad. There isnt a forest?
Vlad straddled the visitors chair by the old mans bedside, pen and paper dropping to the floor.
No forest, Anatoly Borisovich. I dont know about trees: I am a medical man. It may be a pine. He glanced out of the window. I would say it is definitely a tree. The old man smiled encouragingly. No forest, but lots of water. Because were by the sea.
By the sea? Oh really?
Of course just a few kilometres further west. Vlad pointed into the grey. That way: the Azov Sea.
Ah! Yes! That rings a bell maybe. Is Rostov far?
Not far. Were more or less half-way between Azov and Rostov. You are from Rostov, no?
No. The old man nodded. Not Rostov.
Ah. Well, you seem to have found your voice, so talk, Anatoly Borisovich. Tell me what happened to you. The more you say, the more detailed my case study will be, and the more helpful to you. Ive plenty of time: my shift has officially ended, so Im free all afternoon, more or less. Do you remember being brought here? He smiled, generous lips drawing back to show the clean faces of straight white teeth. The old mans eyes rested on them for a moment: they were sharp and huge and strong looking, like those of a horse. His tongue probed the stumps and pits in his own worn gums.
No. Not at all.
Ah, well, maybe we can start a little further back?
Anatoly Borisovich took a sip of tea, slurping joyously.
Very good. I was born in Siberia
Maybe not that far
a little village not far from Krasnoyarsk. You know Krasnoyarsk? The old man waited, and fixed Vlad with a stare that demanded an answer.
He thought for a moment. Yes, of course it has a hydroelectric dam. Wait, have you seen he fumbled in his pocket and drew out a large, crisp bank note folded neatly in half. See? Its on the back of the new ten thousand note. The dam. He held it to the old mans face for a moment.
Ten thousand rouble note? Are you a millionaire, Vlad? Anatoly Borisovich was incredulous.
Not yet, but Im hoping! He flashed a smile. But seriously, ten thousand roubles is nothing: about two US dollars. Thats Yeltsins inflation for you were all millionaires now! Vlad winked as he re-folded the note and placed it carefully back in his pocket.
Two dollars? Millionaires? The old mans mouth flopped open and a furry, pale tongue poked out. But what would we want with US dollars, eh? We have our health and this Soviet Union, I mean, um whats it called now?
Vlad shrugged and bent to pick up his pen and paper. What indeed? But continue with your background. You were born in Siberia. He leant forward on the chair, thrusting his chin towards the old man. Do you remember your childhood?
Oh yes, it was all to do with being a child. I remember, you know, out there in the forest, everyone had to work. In the forest, with the trees hard work! Everyone had quotas. You had to fulfil your quota, or your pay was cut. It was piecework. My papa, he over-filled his quotas. All the time. He was a hero, you know! They put him on a flag for a time. We never saw him. The old mans eyes wandered as his mind strayed back to reach out to his papa.
Freezing cold all the time, I should think? And what about the gulags, the political prisoners? Did you see them? It must have been the 1930s?
Vlads questioning seemed vulgar to the old man. He wanted to think about his papa, and his baba, and the pine trees. He didnt want to think about the camps. He frowned.
You may have thousands of roubles, Vlad, but you know little about people. Listen, he coughed and sipped his tea, I was a child. I was happy. I didnt know about any camps. Comrade Stalin was our friend, our protector! His eyes glowed. It was just a little village, a straggle of huts with pigs and chickens, hard workers, lazy drunks. It was cold, in winter. But Krasnoyarsk is in the south: we had a summer, oh yes hot and humid and heaving with midges! Midges so bad they sent the cows mad or so went the story. There were lots of stories. He rubbed his eyes. Stories come out of the forest, you see come out of the bark of the trees, to eat up your mind like an army of ants! He stopped, grinning. Let me tell you a story.