Golden
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Anna Karenina
Copyright: Leo Tolstoy's estate
"You are golden,
precious as a prayer flying through the air
while the rain is falling.
Golden, timeless as a kiss; baby I don't wanna miss
another perfect moment
to tell you how you make me feel.
The day you strolled in, my heart was stolen
'cause you are golden … "
- Lady Antebellum, "Golden"
Levin remembers the exact moment he fell in love with Kitty. Before that, he had been in love, so to speak, with the Scherbatsky household as a whole – their kindness, their generosity, all the feminine mysteries he had missed out on by growing up without a mother – but it was Kitty who stole his heart, without even trying, one unforgettable Sunday morning.
He was sitting next to her in church, uncomfortable in his stiff black Western suit, his nose itching from incense and strangers' perfumes, arguing with the priest inside his mind and counting the minutes until he could escape into the fresh air. To distract himself, he began glancing at the faces around him, but that only irritated him all the more. The Prince and Princess Scherbatsky looked politely blank, their eyes glazed over as if their thoughts were miles away – even though he knew, as soon as they were outside, the Princess would clasp her hands and be inspired, and the Prince would agree. Tanya was fidgeting with the tassels on her new muff. Stiva, who sat on Levin's other side, was reading a French novel wedged inside his hymn book. Dolly was trying – unsuccessfully – to hide an avalanche of yawns behind her fan. Levin could not bring himself to blame her, since three out of five children of hers had caught cold and were staying home with the nurse.
Still, he thought scathingly. If the whole business bores them so much, why bother to go? And why drag me along with them, when they know perfectly well how much it disagrees with me?
That was when he caught sight of Kitty's face – and time stopped.
He'd known she was beautiful. He had known that from the beginning of his visit. But until that moment, with the light of dozens of candles on her rosy face, her golden hair putting the altar decorations to shame, and most of all the look in her bright blue eyes, he had never understood what beauty meant.
She was smiling – no, grinning– at the fresco on the wall. A friendly, casual grin, as if the haloed figure of Jesus at the Last Supper were a friend she'd spotted across a crowded dining hall. How are You? he imagined her saying to Him. I haven't seen You since last week! I have so much to tell You, You won't believe it! Levin had heard from any number of people who claimed to worship God, but not a single person who actually liked Him.
Suddenly over at Levin, still grinning, as if inviting him into her silent conversation. She knew he was an agnostic; she had heard him making sarcastic remarks about the corruption of the clergy and the emptiness of their rituals often enough. Most young girls would have been embarrassed to be caught chatting with their Saviour in front of a man like that, afraid of being mocked or looked down upon, but not this girl.
Listen, she seemed to say. Isn't this interesting?
And it was. Oh yes, it certainly was.
Here was what he had been searching for, not only during this service, but for years – someone without pretense, without hypocrisy, someone proud and happy to be exactly who she was.
It would be more than a year before he learned to believe as she did, but it only took a moment to learn to believe in her.