It began with a sound like a gunshot.
He had been pursuing a young rabble-rouser who had been spreading rumors and negative talk about the new, hard-fought-for Bolshevik government of Russia. It incensed him, as Gleb Vaganov knew firsthand what the revolution had cost.
He was so close, but once again, the brat and his older friend managed to melt into the crowd. Exhaling heavily in frustration, Gleb turned to watch the street.
A young woman with red-gold hair was there, sweeping studiously with her head bowed. After the troublemakers, it was a sight that made him smile with approval. Now that was a good Russian comrade according to the new regime – no more entitlement, only equality and lives built on actual hard work. As she approached, he bowed to show his respect for her efforts -as he did so, a truck backfired loudly in the distance.
"Oh!" she cried out, dropping to the ground and scurrying away from the noise. Her broom clattered to the ground an arm's length away. Concerned, he hurried to pick it up.
"It was a truck backfiring, comrade," he explained, trying to reassure her. As he moved closer to her, she scrambled backwards violently. The look of terror on her face struck him – the wide-eyed, slightly unfocused gaze on, frankly, one of the loveliest countenances he had ever seen. He reached out with a placating hand, feeling like he was trying to approach a spooked kitten, and slowly lowered himself onto a knee so that he could meet her eyes.
It dawned on him what that sound might have meant to someone her age. She, like him, had likely lived through the worst of the conflict all those years ago. Gleb was not oblivious to how difficult the revolution had been for the people – nor was he unconcerned as they probably thought. He simply believed it was all necessary.
But kneeling in front of this girl, guilt for what the government had done to people like her wormed its way into his heart.
"Those days are over – neighbor against neighbor," he spoke, the only comforting thing he could think of to say. He extended his hand again, and this time, she took it and let him help her to her feet. She reclaimed her broom from him, and he was close enough to see her trembling.
"You're shaking," he commented, instinctively placing his hands on her arms to try and steady her. "There's a tea shop just steps from here, let me –"
"Thank you," she interrupted him, pulling away. His hand brushed the back of hers as it slid off her arm, and the brief touch left a tingle in his ungloved fingers.
"What's your hurry?" he called to her back as she rushed away, broom gripped tightly in both hands and shoulders hunched.
She turned in his general direction, head still down. "I can't lose this job. They're not easy to come by. But thank you."
"Wait!" He hurried to catch up even as a part of him wondered why he was pushing this. To his relief, she did not run.
"You're cold and clearly frightened, comrade," he pointed out once he was in front of her again. "That's no condition to be out on the streets in. Let me buy you a cup of tea, just to warm you up and calm those nerves."
"That's not necessary," she replied. But he could see a slight hesitation.
"It won't take much time," he assured her. "Please, I insist."
Finally, she raised her eyes to his, a small smile on her face. "Just a few minutes then."
He reached for her broom. "Allow me –"
"No," she said, firmly enough that he relented immediately, and they began walking.
"Have you had this job long?" he asked.
"No…not long. I washed dishes. And before that I worked in a hospital."
He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You're a very hard worker."
As they approached one of his favorite tea shops, he noticed to his amusement, she was making sweeping motions with her broom every few steps. She scowled a little when she saw the mirth on his face.
"They can still let me go anytime they want," she said defensively.
"You can stop now, comrade," he replied as he turned to open the door. "Unless you intend to sweep their floors too."
The rush of warmth inside the tea shop was a welcome relief, and he could see it washing over her. He led her to the table he frequented the most and took care of ordering the tea. After only a few sips of hot tea with lemon, the color began to return to her cheeks. He hid his smile at the sight behind his own cup, content to sit back and let her savor the comfort.
They did not speak as they drank, but the silence was, to him, a pleasant one for once.
When her cup had been emptied, she set it on the saucer slowly. "I should go back." She sounded rueful, but also a great deal happier.
"Of course." He quickly drained the remainder of his own tea, and after a nod of acknowledgment to the shopkeeper, they set back out into the bitter late-afternoon cold.
"I'll walk with you," he offered.
"You don't have to – I'll go back on my own," she replied. "Thank you."
"I'll be going that way," he said. Which...was not entirely a lie. He would just be taking a longer route.
She did not look like she believed him either, but she did not protest further. They both looked straight ahead, unsure of what else to say, though he would steal a glance every so often at her.
When they reached the corner where they had met, he scanned the street for any sign that anyone might be looking for her. He did not want to be the reason she lost a job – although if she did, he probably had enough pull in the government office to find her a place…
"The coast is clear, comrade," he proclaimed, relieved but also slightly disappointed.
She smiled at him, widely this time. "Thank you for coming with me. You seem to be a gentleman after all."
They both laughed a little at that comment, and he marveled at how joy brightened her face, like a small sun in the midst of the bleak winter.
"It was my pleasure." He tipped his cap. "Take care in these parts."
She nodded and began to sweep again. He started on his way, but he found himself looking back.
Gleb believed in fate. And something was telling him that she was a part of his.
"Comrade!" he called. She looked up, startled.
"I'm here every day," he blurted out. He felt embarrassed even as he said it, and he could feel his face burn. "If –if you need anything."
With a nod to her, he hurried away, his heart thundering.
