A Train to Moscow: A Novel
Chapters (59)
ALSO BY ELENA GOROKHOVA
A Mountain of Crumbs: A Memoir
Russian Tattoo: A Memoir
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2022 by Elena Gorokhova
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542033879 (hardcover)
ISBN-10: 154203387X (hardcover)
ISBN-13: 9781542033862 (paperback)
ISBN-10: 1542033861 (paperback)
Cover design by Holly Ovenden
First edition
DEDICATION
For Marina Maltseva,
a great Russian actress
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
ACT 1 IVANOVO
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
ACT 2 MOSCOW
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
ACT 3 LENINGRAD
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
ACT 4 IVANOVO-LENINGRAD
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACT 1 IVANOVO
ACT 1
IVANOVO
1
1
She immediately knows something is wrong. The door to Marik’s house is ajar, and there is a black car blocking the street just a few meters away. Not really a car—there aren’t many cars in Ivanovo. It looks more like the wagon that plucks drunks off the sidewalks on holidays and deposits them at the sobering station in the town’s center.
Who is this wagon waiting for? Not for her friend Marik, for sure. Marik is seven, like Sasha, and no driver would waste time plowing through snow all the way to the edge of Ivanovo to stand by while a first grader pulls on his itchy uniform and tosses his books into a schoolbag. Despite the dusk of early mornings, Sasha has always savored this hour before school, from the moment she plunges out of the clouds of frost and into the warmth of Marik’s house to see his father leaf through Pravda over a glass of tea to the minute she curls her fingers around the piece of sucking candy his mother stuffs into her hand before they leave for class. But all those safe mornings, she can sense, are now in the past. Today, everything is different.