Read Online Freedom is Space for the Spirit by Glen Hirshberg - Free Book Online
Authors: Glen Hirshberg
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Petersburg toward the Gulf of Finland.
There should have been ⦠Thomas wasnât even sure what. A collective wail. A chorus of gasps. A moment of silence, just to mark that something had happened. Was passing. Something living.
Then the police whirled on the crowd. Briefly, Thomas panicked, thought they might open fire, worried he could end up trappedâor shotâagainst this wall in the midst of a riot, a mindless surge.
Instead, with astonishing speed, the crowd along the embankment dissolved into its thousand separate parts, its couples and tour groups, its office mates and solitary travelers bumping and cutting behind and in front of one another. This wasnât a surge, just a separation. And by the time he realized that, got himself steady on his feet, and cleared his head, Ana was gone.
Gone. Where?
â Ana! â he called, just once, thought he saw her across the street, head down, black hair streaming as she burrowed through the throng. If I were you, throng , Thomas thought , with a smile so faint that the first movement of his head melted it off his face, Iâd get out of her way .
âTurkish?â he heard a laughing voice say, in English, right next to him.
Surprised, he turned, started to answer, âGerman,â and realized the manâkid, really, college kidâwas talking to the speckle-faced, green-eyed, laughing redhead he was tugging behind him.
Food, Thomas realized. They were talking about food.
âThis place is incredible ,â the girl said. And then they were gone too. And Thomas was practically ripping his gloves off his hands, pulling out his phone and punching at the speed-dial.
âJutta?â he said before sheâd even spoken, had barely even answered. âJutta, itâs me.â
âYes, I hear that,â she said. Laughing.
His wife, laughing. Thomas almost hung up on her, too, almost threw the phone into the Neva, let it follow the bears. The dead and beautiful bears.
âAnd so?â Jutta was saying, her laughing voice filling his ear. âDid you find him? What has he got up to now?â
Oh, you know , Thomas very nearly answered. Killing some kids. Watching Russians Snapchat it.
âCan I talk to our son?â he said.
âCan youâ¦â Jutta started, and Thomas thought sheâd actually heard, understood. But of course she hadnât. She was still laughing. âHere he is.â
Of course, Thomas had nothing to say to him, either. Except, in the end, âHello.â And so, he said that. Then he said it again. And he went on doing that, in his mind, out loud, to his son, all the way back to Vitebsk Station to catch the next train home.
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Copyright © 2016 by Glen Hirshberg
Art copyright © 2016 by Greg Ruth
There should have been ⦠Thomas wasnât even sure what. A collective wail. A chorus of gasps. A moment of silence, just to mark that something had happened. Was passing. Something living.
Then the police whirled on the crowd. Briefly, Thomas panicked, thought they might open fire, worried he could end up trappedâor shotâagainst this wall in the midst of a riot, a mindless surge.
Instead, with astonishing speed, the crowd along the embankment dissolved into its thousand separate parts, its couples and tour groups, its office mates and solitary travelers bumping and cutting behind and in front of one another. This wasnât a surge, just a separation. And by the time he realized that, got himself steady on his feet, and cleared his head, Ana was gone.
Gone. Where?
â Ana! â he called, just once, thought he saw her across the street, head down, black hair streaming as she burrowed through the throng. If I were you, throng , Thomas thought , with a smile so faint that the first movement of his head melted it off his face, Iâd get out of her way .
âTurkish?â he heard a laughing voice say, in English, right next to him.
Surprised, he turned, started to answer, âGerman,â and realized the manâkid, really, college kidâwas talking to the speckle-faced, green-eyed, laughing redhead he was tugging behind him.
Food, Thomas realized. They were talking about food.
âThis place is incredible ,â the girl said. And then they were gone too. And Thomas was practically ripping his gloves off his hands, pulling out his phone and punching at the speed-dial.
âJutta?â he said before sheâd even spoken, had barely even answered. âJutta, itâs me.â
âYes, I hear that,â she said. Laughing.
His wife, laughing. Thomas almost hung up on her, too, almost threw the phone into the Neva, let it follow the bears. The dead and beautiful bears.
âAnd so?â Jutta was saying, her laughing voice filling his ear. âDid you find him? What has he got up to now?â
Oh, you know , Thomas very nearly answered. Killing some kids. Watching Russians Snapchat it.
âCan I talk to our son?â he said.
âCan youâ¦â Jutta started, and Thomas thought sheâd actually heard, understood. But of course she hadnât. She was still laughing. âHere he is.â
Of course, Thomas had nothing to say to him, either. Except, in the end, âHello.â And so, he said that. Then he said it again. And he went on doing that, in his mind, out loud, to his son, all the way back to Vitebsk Station to catch the next train home.
Â
Thank you for buying this
Tom Doherty Associates ebook.
Â
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Â
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
Â
For email updates on the author, click here .
Copyright © 2016 by Glen Hirshberg
Art copyright © 2016 by Greg Ruth
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