Saving Anna Karenina

Part 5

THE APPEARANCE OF HER NEW HOME pleased Anna, for it was a grand, red stone building in a line of many such edifices. However, when she entered, saw the frayed décor, and learned they wouldn’t have the whole house, but share with a family, with only one room to themselves —on the third floor — Anna grimaced. A woman could live in a boarding house for a period, but not with a child, and not forever.

“Where are the servants?”

“Oh,” said Margaret, pursing her lips. “Did you have them in Russia?”

“Of course,” said Anna.

Margaret exchanged a look with Jean.

“You won’t have any household help here,” said Jean. “The money the city provides through various benefit schemes is just enough to live on yourself, not to hire people to work for you.”

Anna sighed. At least she had help from these two, charmless as Jean was. And she had the gold.

The Italian landlady was phlegmatic. Anna noted that she lacked a governess for her baby daughter, and was overwhelmed by the household. There were bags of food all over the counters, not put away, and beyond the kitchen, in the mudroom, Anna spied a pile of dirty clothes. The husband was African. He smiled widely and wore glasses. The mixed race child was pretty, with olive skin, rosy cheeks, red lips, and a mop of wiry hair. Pipa was the girl’s name. She looked about a year old.

Seryozha kissed Pipa on the forehead and she squealed. Anna felt suddenly that it was Seryozha who would protect her here. She started to speak French, not sure what Italians spoke among other Europeans in the new world, but the landlady Elena didn’t understand.

“How was your travels?” said Elena, smiling as she glanced away from a pot on the stove.

“Oh,” said Anna. “Very strange. Thank you for enquiring.”

Elena was back to the pot. She seemed to think there was nothing remarkable about time travel. Her husband said nothing. He stood, smiling, and clasped his hands together, as though he couldn’t find the right words, or language. It was a small kitchen, but cozy, with wood chairs and a bowl of fruit on a glass table, and a large photograph framed in a robust black frame on the wall. Yet the photograph seemed to be moving; the baby was mesmerized by it. Anna looked away quickly. Her mouth was dry and sticky, and she was starting to feel an ache in her head. Where was the dining room? The salon?

Margaret and Jean climbed the stairs with Anna and the boy to their room, which the women had apparently seen before. It was furnished with a bed and a sofa, but to Anna’s alarm, her clothes would have to hang on an iron rod that ran the length of the room.

Seryozha lay down on the small green velvet sofa as Jean talked English in a bossy way. He didn’t think she should address Anna like that. His mother was a countess. He was embarrassed that he wet himself earlier. But it was scary in the dark. His coat would cover it. No one would know. He could smell it now. But he was too tired. Why did the women dress like men in New York? The weather was the same as home. Seryozha’s spiderweb of memories began to light up and intersect as his long eyelashes fluttered several times.

“The first thing you need to do is buy a cellphone,” said Jean. “It’s a phone that you can take around with you, this is one.” She showed Anna her phone. “Now I know you didn’t have phones yet, so you must understand, this is the primary form of communication, and these days, everyone uses text messages, which I’ll show you.”

Anna was tired, and tired of Jean. English was exhausting. She had not practiced conversation much in Russia, and she could only understand when she focused intently, which was beyond her capacities at this moment as her thoughts drifted towards Vronsky and opium.

“Jeannie,” said Margaret. “I think Anna must be tired. Maybe we should leave her now and let her sleep. She’s just traveled 134 years!” Margaret patted Anna’s leg. Anna appreciated the gesture.

“Okay, we’ll discuss this all over lunch tomorrow,” Jean said. “Anna, this will be your first time on the subway alone. You’ll take it to Fulton Street,” Jean had a map now and was pointing to colored lines. “And there you’ll change trains to the green line, getting off at 59th Street.” Margaret wrote this all on a piece of paper and handed it to Anna.

“Do you still have the two subway passes we gave you when we rode over here?” Margaret asked.

“Is there a chemists nearby where I can buy some opium? Also, how can I get a message to Vronsky, just to let him know we arrived safely?”

Jean looked at Margaret for a long, pregnant moment.

“Anna —you ca—”

Margaret interrupted. “Dear, there’s no way to communicate with people from your home.” She cocked her head gently and looked at Anna, waiting for her reaction.

“I can’t send a message?” Anna said, her voice breaking.

“No, you can’t,” said Margaret.

Jean started to speak, but Margaret put her hand on her leg.

“That’s plenty for one day. We don’t want to overload you. Why don’t you rest?”

“But I have trouble sleeping if I don’t have opium,” she said.

“And how often do you…take…opium?” said Jean.

“Most nights.”

“Well, they don’t sell opium at pharmacies here,” said Jean. “It’s illegal.”

“Illegal? That’s ridiculous,” said Anna.

“But it’s a narcotic.”

“Jean,” said Margaret, “why don’t we leave Anna now, we can discuss all this tomorrow. Anna, I hope you can get a little sleep tonight? Why don’t you come downstairs with us and we’ll see if Elena has some milk she can heat up for you. It always puts me to sleep, especially with a dash of turmeric.”

Downstairs, the landlady was just sitting down to eat a whitefish with rice and aubergine with her husband.

“Feel free,” she said to Anna, pointing to the pots on the stove. “You must be hungry. Mmmm?” Having said this, the Italian sat down and started having a conversation with her husband.

“Oh, how nice,” said Margaret. “Anna, we’ll leave you now, okay? And we’ll see you tomorrow at 12:30 at our office? Do you think you’ll be able to follow the instructions we gave you?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it,” said Anna.

She ushered the women out and joined the family for dinner. Apparently she would have to serve herself, as Elena made no gesture to get up and make Anna’s plate. They ate at the kitchen table, like servants. There wasn’t a dining room, nor a salon. Elena conversed with her husband intensely about some family matter, and Anna was too tired to try and understand the English. They asked her no questions. Anna only spoke to compliment the food. It was good and simple. But they served no wine and drank something not offered to Anna out of enormous teacups with writing on them.

Upstairs in bed, with the boy asleep, Anna lay thinking of Vronsky. Vronsky kissing Princess Sorokin’s bosom, Countess Vronskaya toasting the couple at a Petersburg dance, the jeering faces of her former friends celebrating Anna’s exile, Vronsky heaving as he made love to Anna, wearing that stern expression when he painted in Italy. These thoughts repeated over and over and over and over. She would never be able to sleep without opium.

It began to snow out the bare window. She hugged herself. Her arms turned rigid, causing her shoulders and back to ache. Soon her neck ached, and then her head. It felt as though poison was spreading into her muscles, in all the soft areas above her waist. I am in hell, she said to herself. I left one for another. And then the pain took over her thoughts, and she fell asleep.

This is part 5 of a serialized novella being published each Thursday. It is a speculative sequel to Leo Tolstoy’s novel, Anna Karenina.

Chapter 1 sets out the adversity Anna faced in 1877 Russia. Chapter 2 presents the possibility for her escape. Chapter 3 introduces those who will be receiving her in 2010 New York City. In chapter 4, Anna and Seryozha arrive in Brooklyn.

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