Tatiana and Alexander (The Bronze Horseman, #2)

by Paullina Simons

They’re going to starve me to death. They’re going to thirst me to death. Then they will beat me to death. But first my feet will freeze and then my legs and then my insides, they will all turn to ice. And my blood, too, and my heart, and I will forget.

He wanted to pick up his heart from the floor. But it was dark, and he couldn’t find it. He heard it roll away from him, he heard it beating, bleeding, pulsing in the corner.

“Will you remember that? Anywhere you are, if you can look up and find Perseus in the sky, find that smile, and hear the galactic wind whisper your name, you’ll know it’s me, calling for you…calling you back to Lazarevo.”

But on that sunlit Sunday, Alexander knew nothing, thought nothing, imagined nothing. He forgot Dimitri and war and the Soviet Union and escape plans, and even America, and crossed the street for Tatiana Metanova.

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Have they made it anywhere? Are they safe? How can I live not knowing if she’s all right? I can’t. I can’t live not knowing if she is all right.

if Alexander was wearing that medal when he died, it would still be on his neck.

Alexander knew what was ahead. It was tomorrow. He was leaving. It was tomorrow. He had left. It was tomorrow. And he was without her.

Release me, Tatiana, release me, forgive me, forget me, let me forget you. I want to be free of you, free of your face, free of your freedom, free of your fire, free, free, free.

She knew now, knew for certain what she had long feared, long suspected: Alexander had handed her his life and said, this is for you. I cannot save myself, I can only save you, and you have to go and live your life the way you and only you were meant to live it. You have to be strong, and you have to be happy, and you have to love our child, and eventually, you have to love. Eventually, you have to learn to love again, and to smile again, and to put me away, you have to learn to hold another man’s hand, and kiss another man’s lips. You have to marry again. You have to have more children. You have to live your life—for me, for you. You have to live it as we would have lived it. All in one word: Orbeli.

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