Perm. July 23rd, 1918.
Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanova.
I watch Maria brush her hair as I lie on my bed and pet Ortipo.
My little dog still looks incredibly nervous and barks for no apparent reason at least once a day. I hug her with concern whenever I see her that way. She has not followed orders she easily understood before either, such as sitting or giving her paw.
Ortipo has been such a source of comfort. I already loved her before, but I took her for granted. It is such a miracle that she survived the Ipatiev House.
She reminds me of my dear Malama, who gave it to me. I wonder how he is doing now. I hope he is safe. Russia is out of the war now, but maybe he joined the White Army. I cannot help but hope he did not, but that is exactly what he most likely did.
Maria seems very content this morning, relatively speaking, because today is Oleg´s 26th birthday and she has planned to prepare him a cake along with Galina, something Commander Antonovich allowed. He probably thinks that will make us forget he allowed our brother and sister to be taken away.
Anastasia and I are supposed to help Maria and Galina. I won´t argue with that. Being grumpy will not make my siblings return… or mama and papa.
Oo
Anastasia is in the bathroom right now. I am already up and dressed in my black long skirt, white shirt, and dark brown sweater, but I do not have the energy to brush my hair.
I woke up in an especially melancholic mood and even cried as soon as I opened my eyes to another day. I miss Olenka and our ray of sunshine so much, and the thought of a full new day without talking to my older sister about our happier days or hearing Alexei play with Anastasia in the room next door hit me hard.
Maria, on the other hand, looks as perfect as ever, and even had energy left to console me earlier. She listened to my laments, tried to give me hope, and after all of that failed, she reminded me of God.
When Nastya woke up and saw me crying, she immediately set out to help Masha comfort me, and after I began feeling a bit better, my youngest sister tried to make me laugh by coming up with the most ridiculous scenarios and then telling me about them. She walked around the room as she talked in order to have enough space to make hand gestures.
"Wouldn't it be funny if Olenka and Alyosha had actually been rescued already in the middle of their trip?" Anastasia said. "They could be in Crimea right now swimming and making fun of us for staying here for all we know, while we are suffering like fools, completely oblivious".
"Shvibzik!" Mashka exclaimed. "I can´t believe you right now!"
"No, you are right, that is not it", Anastasia continued. She suddenly opened her eyes wide and pointed her index finger at the ceiling as if she had just had a huge realization. "They had this whole thing planned from the beginning! Antonovich is just a secret agent. They took Olga and Alexei away in order to prank us, and they are both in on it…"
Still in tears, I finally chuckled. Anastasia moved on to act out the scenario.
"Imagine their faces when they find out we tricked them!" Nastya gushed with excitement, pretending to be Alexei by bending her legs slightly to appear shorter and talking in a higher tone. She imitated the sweet sound his voice used to make whenever he became excited about something a little too well, almost making me believe he was here. Then she made a ridiculous appalled expression in order to act as if she were Alexei making a bad attempt at imitating me.
In order to imitate Olga, Anastasia straightened her legs and turned around to talk in the opposite direction.
"That must be exactly Tatya´s face right now! I wish we were there to see!" Anastasia´s Olga exclaimed, talking to the spot where Alexei was supposed to be. "They are probably worried sick and have no clue, did you see Nastya´s face when we left? We are better than her at acting now! They didn't suspect a thing!" Still in character, Anastasia laughed exaggeratedly.
"No, wait! They did not take them away!" Anastasia proclaimed after she had finished impersonating Olga. "They are living right next door and laugh every day at the things Antonovich tells them about us. They know how rude you have been to him Tanya, can you imagine that?"
Masha laughed. I rolled my eyes and smiled without teeth. That humor was too dark for me. The lengths Shvibzik is willing to go.
Yesterday after dinner, I ignored Pavel when he tried to ask me if we needed anything. Mashka was left with the bothersome task of listening to his hypocrisy.
"Maybe they are ready to reveal they have been here all along and we are all leaving together anytime soon", Nastya continued, getting closer to my bed, where I was lying. "How about that?"
For a moment I let myself imagine it was true. I almost experienced the laughter that would have ensued. I even planned the exact words I would have used to scold Olga for scaring me like that. I imagined the two of us laughing about it at every chance that we got in the future.
"Come here, you idiot", I sat up to hug my youngest sister. I also started crying again, but in a way that relieved and prepared me to face the day. "You are starting to lose your charm", I teased Anastasia. Maria joined the hug, and I used the time we spent in each other's arms to thank God I still had my two youngest sisters.
"How did you even come up with that, Nastya?" Mashka asked, but I could tell she was pleased by our sister's cheerful mood. Before leaving, Olga asked me to make sure Shvibzik always remained Shvibzik, although it is Maria who has been encouraging it more often than not. I try to as well, mainly by actively refusing to become offended every time her humor becomes a bit too dark, but it is getting harder and harder.
The little pair has been taking care of me as if we had switched places, especially Maria.
Yesterday Maria was the one who made the beds, cleaned the room, and brushed my hair. She is the one who comforted Anastasia after she had a nightmare. I was too terrified after my own.
It is as if I could no longer take care of everything like I used to without Alexei around. He was always there, reminding me of how vulnerable he was and how much he needed me, and so was Olga, with her melancholy and depressive episodes. Mama as well, the poor dear was always ill. I miss her so much.
I had to take care of them. I was the strong one.
I still have the incessant urge to help, to be of use, but my little sisters are just as strong as me or even more so, and suddenly, I do not even know what to do with myself anymore.
Mashka has finished brushing her hair when we hear a knock on the door. For the first time in days, I do not jump at the sound.
I leave Ortipo on the bed and go answer it. It is Denis, the guard who always roll calls whenever Antonovich is not available. He is a small young man around Anastasia´s age, a little bit shorter than me and skinny as a stick. He has brown hair and eyes, wears round glasses, and these past two days, Nastya has made it her life´s work to make his life impossible.
"Roll calls", the young man announces as he takes out a small notebook from his pocket and covers more than half his face with it. "You know how it is".
I nod and let him enter the room. He does not even look inside, his nose is stuck in the notebook as he grabs a pencil from the pocket on his chest in order to mark.
"Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanova?" He asks.
"That would be me", I answer in a low tone of voice. The man marks my name in the notebook, most likely with a tick.
"Maria Nikolaevna Romanova?" He continues.
"Right here", my sister raises her hand.
"Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova?" Denis finally calls for my youngest sister, but he receives no answer, so he lowers the notebook. "Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova?! Anastasia?!" He yells, looking around the room with evident nervousness.
It is ridiculous of him to think any of us escaping is even a possibility, let alone individually, as if we would ever abandon each other. It is still fun to watch.
Anastasia comes running back from the bathroom with her hands soaked wet. She surprises Denis by shaking her hands at him and sprinkling his back with drops of water. He immediately turns around, and a few drops fall on his glasses, clouding his sight. I can tell because he turns his body back towards the room and squints his eyes. I feel a bit sorry for him.
"Oops", Anastasia feigns innocence. Denis takes off his glasses and cleans them with his shirt.
"It is not funny", the annoyance is clear in his voice.
"I don't care if you don't think it is funny, being locked up is not funny for us", Anastasia states coldly, giving Denis a deadly stare.
The young guard simply moves to walk out of the room, bumping into Anastasia, who is still at the entry, in the process. Anastasia trips Denis before he takes the first step out in response, but he manages to avoid falling by giving two huge steps ahead. He looks back at Anastasia with a frown before leaving.
"It is not funny", Anastasia mimics Denis´s facial expressions exaggeratedly as she pretends to clean her imaginary glasses with her sweater.
I retrieve my unfinished work from the shelf, sit on my bed, pat Ortipo´s head one more time, and continue knitting what I started yesterday.
I am making a sweater for Masha. It will probably be ready way before Christmas. By then, I will also have finished Anastasia´s sweater.
I am ashamed to admit I hope the commander will give us wool of a color other than light blue in order to make the flowers stand out. Masha will have to ask him for that to happen.
Maria looks at Anastasia with concern in her eyes. She seems unsure as to whether this behavior is in line with Shvibzik´s usual displays of mischief, or whether there is more to it. I think it is a combination of both.
My little sister was always ready for some amusement. Teaching the dogs how to do tricks, mimicking people, and quite literally sitting on me. Naturally, some of this amusement included practical jokes. She is probably trying to retain some sense of normalcy in this situation, and maybe because she is failing to feel the same way she used to, she also has to result to insults. I don´t know. All I understand is I might have been wrong to judge her earlier.
"That was unnecessary Shvibzik", Maria picks up Ortipo from my bed in order to pet her. She then sits on her own bed. "He hasn't done anything to us, and as a stranger, does not understand how you are. He may take things personally."
Anastasia doesn´t answer, but Maria´s reaction puts her in a bad mood. She sits next to her and crosses her arms. Then her eyes fill with tears she holds back. This is a common occurrence now.
"It was just a prank", Nastya assures Masha after a minute of silence. Her distraught tone of voice does not match what she is saying. "He probably thinks it was funny too but doesn't want to admit it".
Maria hugs Anastasia, which only makes our little sister unable to hold back tears any longer.
"Ugh, look what you did Mashka!" Shvibzik complains, pointing at her own tears before wiping them. "I hadn't cried since the day before yesterday."
Maria gives Anastasia a sad smile, continues to embrace her, and starts stroking her hair.
"Denis is nice enough", I observe, ignoring my sister´s tears. I don´t stop knitting. I know Nastya is suffering immensely, like all of us, but treating her sadness as something normal and not fussing over it as Masha does, albeit with pure intentions, is what I have come to notice makes Anastasia feel better. "At least he doesn't make a huge fuss out of Nastya messing with him like that villain Tabakov did", I add.
"We cannot bully the poor fellow just because he doesn't seem to be reacting, that is just a good reason not to", Maria argues, still hugging Nastya and talking to both her and me. She then says to our little sister: "Today will be fun, you will see darling".
After that, Maria kisses Anastasia on the cheek. My youngest sister, in turn, smiles and hugs Maria tighter than before.
"He is too serious to stand", Anastasia says as she pulls away, referring to Denis.
"He seems friendly", Maria objects. Her kindness and openness are endearing, but she is so naïve. I worry her feelings might get hurt again, like that time in Ekaterinburg when one of her new so-called friends started ignoring her after they forbade the guards from speaking to us.
"If he were friendly he would talk to us, Masha", I disagree. "For him, we are just a job. He roll calls and leaves. He never asks us how we feel. He never says ´good morning´, not even when you say it to him first. Don't worry, if I see that Nastya´s antics have begun bothering him too much I will put a stop to it".
"If I let you put a stop to it", Anastasia challenges me, and I have to stop myself from smiling. I just shake my head at her.
Oo
Maria brushes my hair before we walk down the stairs. The same priest that came the morning they took Alyosha was here last Sunday, but I already want him to visit us again. Communion is the only thing that makes me feel at peace, like nothing bad has happened, but not even a day after it is over the feeling dissipates.
After breakfast, the three of us spend some time in the kitchen with Galina. We are preparing some kind of cake. I do not know how the flavor will turn out with so little sugar, but it is fun to make. I am mixing the flour and the eggs with a wooden spoon right now. Anastasia and Maria are buttering the pan. Most of the ingredients Galina bought with her own pay.
"Are you sure Oleg knows nothing?" Maria asks Galina.
"Well, I don't know, I haven't told him," Galina responds, "but maybe one of his friends or the commander accidentally did."
Oleg is probably patrolling outside the house right now. I do not think he knows.
I think we are doing this more for Galina than him. We talk to her every day and she makes us feel like we are normal people and not prisoners. Most of the time, Oleg does not even talk, at least not as much as he used to. Not unless Maria talks to him first. At least Oleg is never rude or ignores Maria. He has even introduced me and my sisters to some of the other guards. I chuckle at the thought. Masha can´t spend a day without talking to them and Oleg. She would die. She is way too interested in people. I also like talking to them, even if I get too shy sometimes, but I would enjoy it way more if they were not our jailers.
Sometimes I wonder why it is that Oleg is never the recipient of Nastya´s pranks though. One would think he is a safe choice since he is on friendly terms with all of us. Maybe his serious expression and imposing appearance scare Shvibzik away. His apparent strength is like Tabakov´s, but that is thankfully where the similarities end. Poor little Denis is not like that at all.
Suddenly, Anastasia stops what she is doing and takes away my spoon. She then moves to walk out of the kitchen, but I keep her from doing so by grabbing her sweater.
"What are you doing Nastya?" I ask her.
"Denis is guarding the front door", she replies. "I just want to sprinkle some of this mix into his head."
"No", I state. "That is enough, Shvibzik. Water was fine, but this will make his head all sticky and waste the mix. We don't get these ingredients every day. Calm down, stay here."
Anastasia rolls her eyes and makes a frustrated sound with her throat, keeping her mouth closed, but I think she knows I am right, especially about the food. It is irresponsible to waste it when there are so many people who need it right now.
My poor baby sister, my heart breaks for her. She should be free in the outside world studying to become an actress or something, not stuck here with nothing to do but miss her loved ones. The little pair and Alexei are so young. They would be the ones to adapt the easiest to being commoners. These people have no reason but mean-spiritedness to keep us here.
We have played all sorts of games and songs to distract ourselves, and we pray. I do not think we have ever prayed more hours a day than we do now. It is the only way we can feel we are doing something to help Olga and Alexei.
Every day is just a quest in search of normalcy. It is just like when papa, mama, and Maria left without us: the longing, the worry, the false rumors, the uncertainty…
This time is so much worse. We have not been promised we will meet again. Sometimes I fantasize Olga and Alexei will come running through the front door any day now, explaining it was all a misunderstanding and they only needed baby in Moscow for a week or so.
Maria has not talked to Oleg the entire day. She wants the secret to be well kept.
"How are we going to surprise Oleg, Masha?" Anastasia asks our sister once we have put the mixture into the oven.
"I have it all planned", Maria answers. "Since he is going to guard us at the dinner table today after his break, I was thinking of offering him to sit with us and then bringing him the cake".
"Sounds neat", Anastasia comments.
"I can play the piano if you want to", I add, and Maria´s eyes light up.
"That would be great!" She exclaims. Her enthusiasm makes me glow. I am glad I can be of help.
"First Ivan Skorokodov gives you a cake on your birthday and now you are returning the favor to someone else, how rude", Nastya teases Masha, who smiles.
The three of us and Galina walk outside in the garden for a long time. Only lunch interrupts us. Later, Oleg guards our table along with another man during dinner. As usual, I feed Ortipo the scraps. Anastasia smiles like an idiot the entire time.
"Oh, I can´t take this anymore!" Anastasia suddenly exclaims as she stands up as soon as she is done with the food. "Happy birthday Oleg!"
She turns towards him and gives him a funny courtesy.
"Thank you", he raises his eyebrows in surprise, smiling. "Did my grandmother tell you? If she did then it is weird, she hasn't congratulated me".
"That makes me worry for her health", the guard next to Oleg jokes. They must be friends.
"She is in good health", Oleg´s smile disappears for a second.
Hearing Anastasia congratulate Oleg, Galina leaves the kitchen and enters the dining room with the cake.
"The girls helped me do it, Olegushka", Galina beams. I chuckle when I hear the diminutive form of his name, and Oleg gives his grandmother a rare, genuine, and big smile.
"Thank you", he says, nodding at all of us. Once Galina puts the cake on the table Oleg moves to kiss her on both cheeks.
"Don´t you want to sit?" I ask him and his friend.
"All right", Oleg concedes, "but only for a while". Oleg, the other guard, the little pair, and Galina sit and get a piece of cake each.
According to Nastasia, this cake tastes a bit better than the one from Mashka´s birthday. I get a piece too, but go to play the piano instead. I´ll eat it later.
I decide to play cheerful pieces. I choose something by Mozart to start. My sister Maria picks up Ortipo.
Some of the guards stationed near the door or right outside hear the music and enter the house to listen and watch as I play the piano. I look back at them and smile, but my smile disappears when I notice Commander Pavel standing among them, leaning against a wall. He is watching as well.
I have prayed for God to grant me strength to forgive our captors, to be meek like Him, but I just can´t forgive Pavel.
Denis is looking at my piece of cake with longing. It would have been nice to share it with the other guards in the house, but we did not have enough ingredients, and there is like fifteen of them. I finish playing a piece and stand up to offer Denis my cake.
"Here", I say. His eyes open wide. Incredulously, Denis points his index finger at the cake I am holding and then at his chest, as if wondering whether I am really offering it to him. Poor thing, he is just a boy with no manners like most of our guards have been.
I nod at him.
"Thank you!" He exclaims, and he accepts the cake, but before he can even get a taste, Nastya comes from behind once again and grabs the cake from his hand to smash it on his face.
It is almost painful to watch. What a waste. He looked like he really wanted to try it.
What follows is Denis finally snapping at Anastasia by chasing her around the living room and then outside the house in order to throw what is left of the cake at her.
I shake my head as I watch. Nastya is lucky she has someone to torment without any serious consequences. I sit on the piano and start playing Trepak by Tchaikovsky, the first thing that occurred to me.
Meanwhile, Masha chats with Oleg and Galina at the dinner table, until Oleg stands up, intending to leave, probably because of a shift or something.
"You can stay here, Oleg", Pavel tells him. "Enjoy your day".
Nice gesture, I guess. Oleg nods and sits back down. He and his friends keep talking to Masha and Galina.
I am about to finish playing Trepak when Denis comes running back into the house, followed by my sister, who is now chasing him.
Anastasia´s hair is filled with cake and I am definitely not going to help her wash it off after what she did. Nastya wrestles with Denis when she catches him. I stand up. This does worry me, not because I think Denis is physically capable of hurting Nastya, but because the commander might not be happy with the situation.
"All right Nastya, stop that", I say, and I turn to Antonovich to see whether he is angry, but he has not even realized what is happening. Mashka leaves Ortipo on the floor and approaches me when she hears the commotion.
Denis and Anastasia are now wrestling and hitting each other like my sisters and brother used to do with our French tutor Gilliard sometimes, but this is not a family friend, this is a guard.
"Denis please leave her, she was just bored", I repeat again. None of them listen. Denis is overpowering Nastya now. She is laughing.
"Stop, stop, all right, you win", Anastasia sounds both amused and annoyed at the same time. Denis has both her arms pinned to the floor. Antonovich has finally realized what is happening. He comes closer.
"Stop hassling me!" Denis yells at my sister. He then lets her go and stands up.
"Is there a problem?" Pavel asks Nastya, and Denis freezes. "Is he bothering you?" The commander signals to Denis with his head.
"No, no", Anastasia assures him before I can speak. She stands up. "We were just playing."
Pavel´s expression becomes cold.
"I would prefer for you to avoid these sorts of games", he tells Anastasia. "Members of the local Cheka are visiting the house tomorrow in the morning and I can´t have the prisoners roughhousing like toddlers with the guards, otherwise I will be forced to impose restrictions on the amount of interaction you can have with them, are we clear?"
Anastasia nods, looking quite scared of the possibility of having even fewer people to talk to.
Pavel turns towards Denis.
"To my office", the commander orders the young guard, who looks even more scared than Anastasia. He lowers his head and follows Pavel. I am horrified by the prospect of the boy getting into trouble, but if I speak for him, my sister may be the one in trouble.
"No!" Anastasia yells. She rushes to place herself in front of them. "I was the one teasing him the entire day, he just snapped when I threw the cake at him. I am so sorry, it was just a game, I didn't mean anything by it and I won´t do it again, just please don't scold him". She pouts at the end. Pavel looks back and forward between Anastasia and Denis.
"This is a job, not a school", Pavel tells the young man. "Your behavior today was completely childish and unacceptable regardless of whether she started it. You could have accidentally hurt her, what would I have told my superiors then? If anything like this ever happens again I will be forced to send you away".
After that warning, Pavel leaves Anastasia and Denis, going back to talk to the guards he was speaking to before the squabble distracted him. I sigh in relief.
"Oh, Shvibzik", Mashka shakes her head.
"Thank you", Denis tells Nastya. I go back to the piano and think of something else to play. I am going to scold my sister after our party is over.
I hear Anastasia apologizing behind me and change my mind. She knows what she did.
"Either way, Pavel is right", I hear Denis say. "I should not have reacted that way, you are a girl."
Nastya complains, being a girl has nothing to do with anything, she claims.
In the meantime, Maria has gone back to chatting, and Denis seems to have found something to talk about with my youngest sister.
Oo
I keep playing the piano. Maria dances with Oleg, but this does not last long. Fortunately for my sister, some of the less reserved men ask her to dance as well. I can't help but feel protective of her, so I look over to make sure she is fine every now and then.
Anastasia dances with Denis, stepping on his feet on purpose. She never learns. Denis seems less uptight now though. He plays along with her and steps on her feet as well. In a few minutes they are no longer dancing, only holding each other by the arms and stepping on each other´s feet purposely in a fit of laughter. I feel happy for her.
My dog is running around the living room with her tongue out. She hadn´t done that since… I urge myself not to remember.
I feel the presence of God and have a spiritual moment. I thank the Lord for today. He has comforted us and made us forget about the pain for a while. He has also given us this beautiful moment of forgiveness.
After a minute, God helps me come to the realization that this is not actually a true case of forgiveness, just a moment of two enemies becoming friends, or people loving their neighbors.
My little sisters are trying to love their enemies, because that is what they are by being our jailers. They are not our enemies because they have wronged us. The circumstances have made them our enemies the same way being born in Germany made thousands of German men our enemies. Loving our enemies is our Christian duty, but it is not what forgiveness is. I can´t forgive the guards that have behaved properly because there is nothing to forgive.
To forgive someone that person needs to have wronged you, which means forgiveness is meant to be hard, not like it is for my sister to become friends with Denis, a boy the same age as her, who could have been her classmate had they been normal youngsters.
Forgiveness is not my siblings and me, especially Mashka, becoming friends with the guards at every place we have been detained.
Forgiveness was Christ, in agony, after being tortured for hours, asking His father to forgive the ones who brutalized Him. Forgiveness is meant to be painful, a never-ending trial and struggle against passions that does not end when you decide to forgive for the first time. That is why the ones who genuinely forgive are considered pious.
I remember my father, and my eyes fill with tears. He told Olga he had forgiven everyone.
I want God to help me be more like Him, to forgive the ones who have truly hurt me, and for forgiveness to be genuine, you can´t forget what it is you are forgiving.
I think of my parents, of papa´s kindness and sense of humor, of mama´s devotion and affection for each and all of her children, of how I sat with her every day, of how much I loved it when she stroked my hair.
I think of Olga, of how tired she felt while nursing, of how much the job didn't suit her, but how she didn't let that ever show in front of the soldiers. Olga was kindness itself to them. She once told me her faith was the only thing giving her strength to continue doing her duty. I think of the care she showed while changing each bandage, of how much she wanted to make sure none of her patients were ever in pain.
I think of Alexei, of his mischievousness that sometimes rivaled Nastya´s, of the excitement he showed in the letters he wrote to me when he was away with papa near the front. I think of how much joy he found in the simplest of things, like molding bullets from tin, or how he wholeheartedly returned all of the affection my sisters and I gave him.
I still long for all of them, but I attempt to do so while letting go of the feelings of hatred and resentment I have for the ones who took them away.
I try to trust God with all of my righteous anger, for He is the one who will eventually judge the people that split our family, not me.
I think of Christ to remind myself this kind of forgiveness is even a possibility.
The tears roll down from my eyes, and I forgive my parents´ executioners. I forgive Commander Antonovich as well.
I wipe my face with one hand. I don´t want my sisters´ day to be ruined by seeing me cry again.
If I want a different color of wool for the flowers, I will have to ask for it myself.