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Back A Train to Moscow: A Novel Save as PDF
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

Sasha has decided not to take a bus to the opening night. What point is there in clinging to a routine when she knows it’s all going to end in a colossal shipwreck? She is going to falter and fail and take the whole production down with her. In two hours, she is to play Matryona, who is still remote and intangible, a bunch of lines Ostrovsky wrote, which they have backed with some crude layers of mut, all in vain. Tomorrow, after reading the abysmal reviews in every paper, their administrative director will call her to his office and inform her that she has been fired for professional inadequacy, her apartment taken away from her. At least her mother is not here to witness her failure.

It is the middle of November, and she is leaning into the wind on Dekabristov Street, walking toward Theatre Square, where the green and white building of the Kirov Opera and Ballet Theatre looks pearly in the distance through the blustery air pregnant with rain. As she looks up, she sees low gray clouds rushing across the sky, across the narrow space between the roofs. They race overhead with decisiveness and deliberation, scurrying from one side of the roofs framing the street to the other, chased by more clouds blown in by the wind. There is always wind, blowing from somewhere far away, trapped between the fences, swirling dirt around the stump, then flying away. This is all she can see: the bustle of rain clouds above her head, the three rows of fences, and the low sky clamped over her head like a lid. This is her life, every single day until she dies—the towering fences, the courtyard with its racing clouds above, and the stump behind which her drunken husband rapes her. Suddenly something clicks, and it all comes together: two months of rehearsals, the text and the subtext, her dead-end youth and her own old age she can already see peering from the face of her perpetually inebriated husband. Twenty more years of this revolting dead-end life is what she has to look forward to, if she survives that long.

This is the moment Matryona enters her and Sasha shapes her body around her soul. The moment every line she utters is carved into Sasha’s heart. The moment Matryona’s pulse begins to beat in sync with Sasha’s, the moment her blood begins to course through Sasha’s veins.

37

37

“They are going to close the play,” Andrei says.