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Back A Train to Moscow: A Novel
Chapters (59)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. ACT 1 IVANOVO
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. ACT 2 MOSCOW
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. ACT 3 LENINGRAD
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. ACT 4 IVANOVO-LENINGRAD
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  58. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“So you came to my theater and then to my apartment only to let me know that you got married.” The fire in her gut triggered by the alcohol has died down now, and she no longer wants to hurt him. She simply wants him out. Out of her apartment and out of her life. But there still remains an urge to lunge at him, to reassemble the shards of her self-respect, a desperation one feels clutching at the last straw of dignity. “What did you hope to get from this?” she says, even though she doesn’t want to hear his answers. She only knows one thing: she must harden her heart against him, now and for the rest of her life.

He is fully dressed now, wrapping a scarf around his throat, and she averts her eyes because looking at him seems to hollow her stomach.

“I came here to repent,” he says. “I wanted you to taste my guilt and my humiliation.” He starts to open the front door and then turns back for the last time. His sentences are measured, delivered as one might hand over an unexpected gift. “My whole life, I have only loved you. What I did has crippled me. It has flayed off my skin, strip by strip. I cannot look at what I’ve become.” He pauses, and when she peers into his face, she sees hopelessness and torment, but she also sees grief. She has to avert her eyes because she, too, cannot look at what he has become. He raises his hand and runs a finger over her cheek, a tender goodbye touch. “I needed to tell you. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I know there can’t be any. I simply wanted you to know.” He pulls open the front door, then pauses and turns to her. “I need you to know that I love you.”

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