(Quick note: This post is coded with a font I downloaded, not a default that came with my Mac. It might not show up for everyone. But if you love typewriters and typewriter-esque fonts, I recommend you check it out yourself!)
Font: Underwood Champion
Chapter: “Union with a Snake”
Book: The Twelfth Time: Lyuba and Ivan on the Rocks
Written: 27-29 October 2011
Computer created on: 2008 15-inch MacBook Pro
File format: Word 2004
Chapter 41 of my Russian novel sequel is one of the things I’m proudest of having written. I wrote all 17,000 words of it over the course of just three days. After having kept so much of this book memorized in my head for over half my life, it finally was able to be committed to paper, and so much of it just came gushing out. This book wrote me more than I wrote it.
The day the Stock Market crashes, there’s a blackout in the tenement and Lyuba goes into labor with her fifth child. Just as she suspected, it’s a boy, named Igor, after Ivan’s murdered uncle. (This name actually sounds softer in Russian, though it was almost ruined for me by my ex-“fiancé”‘s Harpy mother constantly screeching at her husband: “EEEEEEE-gaaaarrrrrr! Eeeeee-GAAAARRRRR! Eeeeee-GAAAARRRRR! Eeeeee-GAAAARRRRR!”) Lyuba is supported in labor by several of her stepsisters, including Svetlana, an infant nurse, along with her longtime midwife Mrs. Kuzmitch and Katrin. When I first created Katrin (né Catherine) in 1993, I never dreamt she and Lyuba would ever become such dear friends that she’d one day hold Lyuba’s hand during a birth!
Lyuba once again has a very difficult birth and recovery. She’s so feverish and weak that Mrs. Kuzmitch has to use forceps. She’s so out of it, in fact, that when Boris comes by after hearing about her state, she mistakes him for her husband. Over the next few weeks, he regularly comes by at night to dope her up with morphine, mescaline, alcohol, and aphrodisiac teas. Boris even writes Ivan two letters bragging about this “affair,” one of which he signs Lyuba’s name to. Things do not end very well when Lyuba finally realizes, in a sober state, what’s been going on.
Some highlights, so to speak:
On the evening of Tuesday, October 29, while Lyuba is reeling from the shock of the Stock Market’s dramatic plummet over the last two days, all the lights go out in the building. Then, to make matters worse, she feels her water breaking. She’s felt mild contractions all day, but chose to ignore them.
Through her swimming vision, she can make out a male figure. She has no idea how her husband could’ve come here or even found out about the birth so soon. In her delirium, she doesn’t register that her male visitor is plump, on the short side for a man, and has black hair and eyes, instead of being over six feet tall and having dark brown hair and eyes.
“Ask and you shall receive.” Borís pulls out another syringe and quickly injects her, glad her eyes are shut and he can use his right hand this time.
“It’s a sad state when a new mother can’t even wake up to her baby’s cries,” the mohel agrees. “At least this was caught in time to be taken care of properly. The baby will recover.” (Igor developed a severe case of balanitis on his 9th day of life and had to be circumcised, something totally foreign to Russian Christians.)
“I’m so glad you came back, my handsome stallion.” Lyuba wraps her arms around him, her vision still cloudy from all the morphine and delirium. “I can’t get over how plump you’ve gotten in Minnesota. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you were Borís.”
“Look at my pretty buttons.” Lyuba opens the tea crate. “We soak these in our tea every night, and they make me feel so happy and aware of the world. It’s like walking through a dream when I’m awake. Like right now, I feel like I’m looking at a moving stained glass window.”
“Can you get that brat to shut up? I can’t concentrate on screwing you if he’s going to be interrupting us. It’s time to pay attention to me, not him. He has your attention all day. Now it’s my turn.”
Lyuba screams even more hysterically. In the midst of the commotion, her mother and stepfather, the Karmovs, the Kharzins, and Valériya come into the apartment. Borís suddenly doesn’t feel as confident anymore.
“Borís doesn’t even know the meaning of shame anymore,” Mrs. Kharzina says. “He sinned once and kept running with it. Once he got a taste for sin, it was too sweet to resist. Now he’s completely degenerate.”
Lyuba sits on the davenport at her mother’s house, still in complete shell-shock over what she’s discovered. This seems like a twisted, deranged nightmare that happened to someone else, not her. In her mind, she keeps replaying everything that happened over the last month, unable to comprehend how she could’ve been so blind to the obvious.