was shallow and daintily shaped. It had a refinement that belonged to a different world than the other kitchen things, a vanished world. Zara hadn’t seen any other dishes in the cupboard that could have belonged to the same set, although of course she didn’t know what all of Aliide’s dishes were like, only the ones that were on view. Aliide had drunk coffee, milk, and water out of it, only rinsing it between uses. It was obviously her favorite cup. Zara followed its cracks and waited for the next question.
Aliide pushed the bowl of tomatoes toward her.
“It was a good harvest this year.”
A fly was walking among the tomatoes.
Zara bent over the bowl.
Aliide swatted at the fly.
“They only lay their eggs on meat.”
Aliide’s interest was piqued. She tried to coax something out of the girl about this fascination with Finland, but she didn’t show any more curiosity about Talvi, or electronics. She just clinked her fork against her plate, her mouth diligently eating the ear, her coffee cup clattering, taking great gulps that you could hear over the sound of the radio, and now and then touching the stubble on her head. Her chest heaved. It was the car that got the girl worked up, not the new television or anything else. Maybe she really didn’t care about them, or maybe she was just devilishly clever. But could such a dishrag of a girl be a decoy? Or even a thief? Aliide could spot a thief. This girl didn’t have quick enough eyes. She carried herself like a dog that has to constantly look out for kids trying to step on its tail. Her expression was always going into hiding, her body always pulling itself into a huddle. Thieves were never like that, not even the ones who were beaten to teach them the trade. And the mention of gifts from Finland hadn’t brought any color to her cheeks or sparked any interest. The expression that Aliide had been expecting, that familiar gleam of greed, that quiver of awe in her voice, never came. Or did she want to steal the car?
Anyway, Aliide had tested her by leaving her alone in the kitchen and going outside, then peeking in the window, but the girl hadn’t dashed for her handbag or even glanced at the bills lying on the table, although Aliide had scattered them there on purpose, had picked one up as a topic of conversation later on, held up the bills and said, “Look at these, they’re almost two months old, kroon bills, we don’t have rubles anymore—can you imagine?” She had chattered for a long time about the currency reform day, the twentieth of June, and after that she had stuck the money in a corner of the cupboard, but the girl had taken no notice. While Aliide jabbered about the fall in the value of currency and how rubles had turned into toilet paper, there was a faraway look in the girl’s eyes, and she nodded politely now and then, snatching up a word into her consciousness and then letting it go without reacting. Later Aliide went to check and counted the bills when she wasn’t around. They hadn’t been touched. Aliide had also tried to drop hints about the handsomeness of her woods, but she hadn’t seen even the smallest bit of interest in the girl’s eyes.
Instead, when she was left alone she rubbed her arms and fell to examining the sugar bowl from the old Estonian days that was on the table, tracing its cracks and pattern with her finger and looking through it at the kitchen. No thief would be interested in a broken dish. Aliide had tried the same trick in the other room, leaving the girl there by herself while she went to fetch some water from the well. Before she went, she pushed one of the curtains away from the window just enough to be able to peek in from the yard and see what her guest was up to. She had been strolling around the room and went over to the wardrobe, but she didn’t open it, not even a drawer, she just stroked the outside of it, and even put her cheek up against its white paint, smelled the pinks on the table,
Aliide pushed the bowl of tomatoes toward her.
“It was a good harvest this year.”
A fly was walking among the tomatoes.
Zara bent over the bowl.
Aliide swatted at the fly.
“They only lay their eggs on meat.”
Aliide’s interest was piqued. She tried to coax something out of the girl about this fascination with Finland, but she didn’t show any more curiosity about Talvi, or electronics. She just clinked her fork against her plate, her mouth diligently eating the ear, her coffee cup clattering, taking great gulps that you could hear over the sound of the radio, and now and then touching the stubble on her head. Her chest heaved. It was the car that got the girl worked up, not the new television or anything else. Maybe she really didn’t care about them, or maybe she was just devilishly clever. But could such a dishrag of a girl be a decoy? Or even a thief? Aliide could spot a thief. This girl didn’t have quick enough eyes. She carried herself like a dog that has to constantly look out for kids trying to step on its tail. Her expression was always going into hiding, her body always pulling itself into a huddle. Thieves were never like that, not even the ones who were beaten to teach them the trade. And the mention of gifts from Finland hadn’t brought any color to her cheeks or sparked any interest. The expression that Aliide had been expecting, that familiar gleam of greed, that quiver of awe in her voice, never came. Or did she want to steal the car?
Anyway, Aliide had tested her by leaving her alone in the kitchen and going outside, then peeking in the window, but the girl hadn’t dashed for her handbag or even glanced at the bills lying on the table, although Aliide had scattered them there on purpose, had picked one up as a topic of conversation later on, held up the bills and said, “Look at these, they’re almost two months old, kroon bills, we don’t have rubles anymore—can you imagine?” She had chattered for a long time about the currency reform day, the twentieth of June, and after that she had stuck the money in a corner of the cupboard, but the girl had taken no notice. While Aliide jabbered about the fall in the value of currency and how rubles had turned into toilet paper, there was a faraway look in the girl’s eyes, and she nodded politely now and then, snatching up a word into her consciousness and then letting it go without reacting. Later Aliide went to check and counted the bills when she wasn’t around. They hadn’t been touched. Aliide had also tried to drop hints about the handsomeness of her woods, but she hadn’t seen even the smallest bit of interest in the girl’s eyes.
Instead, when she was left alone she rubbed her arms and fell to examining the sugar bowl from the old Estonian days that was on the table, tracing its cracks and pattern with her finger and looking through it at the kitchen. No thief would be interested in a broken dish. Aliide had tried the same trick in the other room, leaving the girl there by herself while she went to fetch some water from the well. Before she went, she pushed one of the curtains away from the window just enough to be able to peek in from the yard and see what her guest was up to. She had been strolling around the room and went over to the wardrobe, but she didn’t open it, not even a drawer, she just stroked the outside of it, and even put her cheek up against its white paint, smelled the pinks on the table,
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