Two days ago, the enemy army had invaded Lithuania and Letonia's houses. Estonia was also having problems at his borders, and I hadn't seen them for more than one week. I was worried about them, but even more worried because I knew that, anytime now, Russia would go to war.
He had been silent, grim. He would carry the pipe wherever he went, busy in the preparations, piling groceries, making weapons. He was hardly speaking to me, and never about the war to come. But I was watching his every movement, and I knew when the day came.
The first snow was falling. The wind, although calm, was already quite cold. After the dinner, I didn't see Russia anymore. I picked up a book and tried to read; I persevered on it into the night, reading the same paragraph five times because every moment I would sharpen my ear or look to the door, in order to spot any sign of his presence. Shortly after midnight, I went to look for him. Disturbed and inattentive, I end up lost in the house again, but around two and a half, I caught a glimpse of him from a window in the second floor. He was on the porch of a little wooden cottage, which was connected to the main part of the house by a corridor.
I took a while to get there. Ivan was sat on the guardrail, thoughtful. Beside him there was a military backpack, and some guns. Coming from inside, I stopped at the door, not daring to interrupt the thread of his thoughts. However, after a while, he spoke.
– Go back inside, Erika. It's cold. You don't want to get sick again – he said, kindly.
– I'm well wrapped – I assured, approaching him. – But if you want, I..
– No, stay.
He took his military cloak from the backpack and threw it over my shoulders. Then he continued to stare ahead, with a stern face. I didn't know what to speak, then I simply stood there beside him, quiet. Hours must have passed, until Ivan broke the long silence.
– You'll have to fend for yourself in the next days, you may have difficulty to find food and firewood, and as I do not know how much time it will last, you'd better save.
– You're talking about the... – I said, shyly.
– Yes, the war – he completed, serene.
– I've never been in a war – I muttered, nervous, rubbing my arm under the cloak with my gloved hand, and drawing closer to Ivan.
– And it's not now that you will be – he said steadily. – I won't let them get here. I won't give them not even one inch.
Our breath turned into little clouds in front of us, and my nose was cold.
– When are you going... there? – I asked, referring to the battlefield.
– Any moment now – he answered. – I'm just waiting for the signal.
– Ivan... Take care, right? – I muttered, with a knot in my throat and a weight in the stomach. – Don't… don't die – I asked. He addressed me a little and pale smile.
– I won't. I'm strong. I always come back badly wounded, but it's not so easy to finish me. Just… – his face darkened – do you know? I hate it all. War, again and again. After all, what did I do against them? For what to invade my house, what do they want here? There's only ice and more ice! Will they never get tired? Because I am tired, Erika, very tired... – he blurted, turning his face to me and shaking his head lightly.
The painful expression in those violet eyes melted my heart. Impulsively, I leaned and kissed Ivan, entwining his neck with my hand. He gasped, surprised, but responded, placing a hand on my waist and the other in the back of my head, the long and cold fingers buried in my hair.
– Ya lyublyu tebya, Erika – he muttered, when we parted.
– Ya tebya lyublyu toje, Vanya[1] – I replied, hiding my face in his chest.
Silence.
– Erika, if things get ugly here, promise me you'll come back to your country.
– No, Ivan, I will wait for you to come back.
– Don't be silly – he said, serious. – I don't want you to be forced to eat human flesh to survive – he completed. I let go of him, shivering. He sighed. – You do not belong to this reality. Cold and wars, I mean. I ask you to stay as long as I can keep you safe from these things. But if I fail, go.
I replied nothing. I didn't have an answer in that moment. The grey line in the horizon grew a little lighter, and a trumpet sounded.
– I need to go – he said. – Do you allow… – he hesitated, red – do you allow me to give you one more kiss? – he asked.
I shook my head positively. He leaned and pressed his lips against mine tightly and hurriedly, putting something on my hand, a sort of crumpled paper. After, he quickly lifted his backpack over his shoulder, took the guns and the pipe, and left without speaking, without looking back.
I opened the paper. It was a page torn from a book. Poetry.
"Wait for me, and I'll be back,
Should you wait me strong.
Wait for me when sky is black
And the sun has gone,
Wait for me when it is cold,
And when it is hot,
Wait for me when others don't,
'Cause they just forgot.
Wait in case you don't receive
Letters from the front,
Wait, and I will outlive,
If you really want.
Wait for me, and I'll be back.
Don't you talk to those
Gluing me a dead man tag.
That's a wrong suppose.
Let my relatives believe
That I am the past,
Let my friends forget and give
Funeral repast.
They will drink a glass of wine
For the peace of soul...
You just wait and don't make time,
Do not raise the bowl.
Wait for me, and I'll be back,
Disregard the fate,
In the morning with my bag,
Should you only wait.
They will hardly understand,
How I could survive.
Waiting me from foreign land,
You have saved my life.
Let them say that it's too late.
What you feeling tells?
I'll be back, because you wait
Like nobody else." [2]
In the horizon, some flashes lit up the sky, more than the rising sun. And below the song of the birds, the few who had not migrated for the winter, you could hear the roar of the cannons in the distance. It was the war.
[1] "I love you" e "I love you too". "Vanya" is the most common of the millions of nicknames for Ivan.
[2] Poet: Konstantin Simonov.
