Read Online The Silence of Trees by Valya Dudycz Lupescu - Free Book Online Page A

boy. About your Dido and I, when we came to Chicago and worked in the factories. I tell you about when you were a cute baby. The smartest I have ever seen. But don’t tell your sisters or cousins. I’m not supposed to have favorites." I winked at her. "Why do you say I never talk about the past? When you’re old, that’s all you have."
    I took the butter from her and put it beside my bowl. Adding salt and pepper, I remembered too late that I had already added some. Ah, in my haste I put in too much. And I was supposed to be watching Pavlo’s "sodium," the doctor said. Pavlo always put too much salt on his food.
    "Ah, now see what I’ve done! Go sit and talk with your Mama and Aunt. Let me finish my varenyky in peace." I motioned toward the dining room, but she didn’t leave. Instead she pulled out a kitchen chair and straddled it like a horse. I hoped she would tell me what was bothering her.
    "That’s your Dido’s chair, and he’ll be right back," I said. "He just ran out to get some more milk from the co-operative." I turned around and tried to ignore her, although I felt her staring at me from behind. I added the butter and kept mashing.
    "What? What is it?" I asked without turning around. "It’s obvious you want to talk with me. So talk."
    I heard her take a deep breath, but only silence followed.
    "Well? Are you scared to talk to your Baba, hmm?" I turned around and looked at her. Her arms were folded on the back of the chair, and her left cheek rested on her forearms. Her eyebrows were gathered together; her lips pouting.
    "What is it? Are you pregnant?" I asked, turning back around to the potatoes.
    "No, Baba. I’m dating someone."
    I sighed with relief. "That is good news. Who is it? That nice boy, Myron? Or maybe that young Nosenko boy from Detroit? He really liked you. At Bingo, his Baba told me that he thought you were the prettiest girl at the New Year’s Eve Dance."
    "Baba, no," she softly muttered.
    "You’re definitely not too young to be dating. I already had three children at your age. Is your Mama giving you a hard time? You know her; she is very protective. Now, I’ll talk with her."
    "Baba."
    "Oh, maybe it’s that man—what’s his name? The Professor. Yaroslav Somebody. Of course you would like an older man. I’ll talk to your father. It’s okay if the man is a little older—"
    "Baba, listen to me." She stood up and walked to the icebox again. "He’s not Ukrainian. He’s . . . German American. I met him in school. He studies history like me." She said this all in one breath, then looked at me, eyes wide and defiant. She was ready for a fight.
    "What?!" Pavlo’s voice boomed as he came in from the porch. He walked toward Lesya, and slammed his umbrella on the table, raindrops scattering.
    "What?! Who is German?" He looked at me. "Nadya, what is she talking about?"
    I walked toward Pavlo, holding my hands out in front of me. I didn’t need him having a heart attack. I said softly, "Calm down, Pavlo. Just calm down. We were just talking. Now go change out of your wet clothes."
    "Don’t tell me what to do," he said between clenched teeth. "Who is German?"
    Anna and Christina came and stood in the archway between the dining room and kitchen.
    "Dido, my boyfriend is. Well he’s American, but his grandparents—"
    "No." His face was blood red; the vein on his forehead throbbed. "I forbid it. No blood of mine will mix with German blood!"
    "Pavlo, your blood pressure. Please." I laid my hand on his arm and then turned to Lesya. "What are you saying?" I asked her while lightly stroking Pavlo’s arm. "Are you forgetting where you come from? Your roots?" I threw a glance in Anna’s direction. "How have you been raised?"
    Pavlo shrugged my hand away and stepped up to Lesya. His face red, he pulled back his shirt sleeve and pushed his arm in her face.
    "See this? See these numbers? Your boyfriend’s grandfathers did this to me." He grabbed his umbrella and left the house, slamming the door