Part I- Chapter 3

Mary announces her decision to her mother.

Chapter 3

Irvington was a village suspended in time.  Nestled in the lush Hudson River Valley, the hopelessness and despair that pervaded the city was noticeably absent here.  The quaint shops that bordered Main Street were perhaps a bit emptier than they were twenty years ago, but the town’s residents had not been evicted from the lovely Victorian mansions that were surrounded by towering oaks and pristine green lawns.  Like a fine wine, the older the money the better.  It was as though the financial crisis that had so devastatingly struck New York City had completely passed over the town.

It was as far from the East Side as one could get, but Mary knew the town’s outward appearances disguised a deeper, more serious problem.  The outward decadence was evidence of the unnecessary consumerism and emphasis on individual wants that had shaped the financial crisis evident on the streets of New York. 

Most Irvington debutantes had followed in the footsteps of their mothers and grandmothers; they had married doctors, lawyers, or businessmen that commuted to the city on weekdays while their wives occupied themselves with managing their extensive household staff, hosting lavish parties, and having babies.  Mary was immoderately proud to have broken the mold and callous to the fact that she had become an embarrassing blight to her family’s social reputation.  As a teenager she had struck a deal with her parents.  She would follow all the necessary protocol befitting a young debutante including attending all tea parties, charity events, and her own cotillion, in exchange for their agreement to fund her tuition to attend college.  True to their part of the bargain, they allowed her to escape to Manhattan for four years at Barnard with the unspoken understanding that she would marry soon after, hopefully to a promising medical or law student that were assumingly plentiful in the city.  Instead, she became emblazed by classes in philosophy and ethics and absorbed the works of Oscar Wilde, Karl Marx, and Fredrick Engels.  

Mary did not return to Irvington after graduation.  Armed with a degree in social casework, she accepted the first position that was offered to her at the Healy Agency for Social Aid.  She was paid less than the salary of one of her parents' domestic servants and could barely afford a single room in the city, but Mary was happier than she had ever been.  Not long after she married Symon which, as far as her parents were concerned, was a greater shame than aging into an old maid.  They hadn’t even bothered to invite them to the wedding, a small affair at the courthouse that took a mere fifteen minutes. 

Mary pulled the borrowed Chevrolet into the circular gravel driveway outside her childhood home and let out a dispirited sigh. When had she last come here?  She knew that her parents had invited them for New Years Eve last year as a sort of peace offering, but she couldn’t remember if they had come.

“This is where Grandma and Grandpa live?” Hannah stared up at the Georgian brick mansion from the passenger seat in awe.  Evidentally they had not visited the year before.

Delores, the ancient housemaid from Mary's childhood, opened the door for them before she had a chance to knock.  She had probably been waiting by the window for half an hour, dusting the foyer and stealing frequent glances at the driveway in anticipation of their arrival.  Growing up Delores had always been less of a housemaid and more like strict aunt, always making sure that Mary brushed her hair and finished her dinner, and when she announced her plans to settle in the city she had been no less disapproving than her own parents.

Mary and Hannah were shown to the sitting room where they perched on the edge of an uncomfortable velvet and mahogany sofa and waited restlessly.  Mary had the irrational feeling that her parents were deliberately keeping her waiting, perhaps watching her from behind a corner to try to unnerve her.  Hannah took her cue from her mother and sat in nervous silence.

“Mary,” her mother glided into the room.  Mary stood and delivered the obligatory kiss on the cheek.  “Where on earth did you find that vehicle outside?  It hardly looks like it would be capable of carrying you all the way here.”

“Borrowed it from a friend” Mary said.  “What did you need to talk with me about?”

“Well you certainly waste no time in getting down to business.  Must come from living amidst all the hustle and bustle of the city” said her mother.

“Sorry, I’ve forgotten the manners they used to teach us at finishing school.  Shall we chat about the weather for a while first?  And then we could trade gossip about the neighbors.”

“Why don’t we start with some tea” her mother said airily with a nod at Delores, who was lurking in the corner.  “And perhaps some milk and cookies for Hannah” she bestowed an indulgent smile on her granddaughter, who glanced back at her mother uncertainly. 

“Coffee for me please” Mary told a retreating Delores, whose back noticeably stiffened, as though she were deliberately trying to undermine her mother's choice of beverage.

“So,” Mary leaned back against the sofa and then immediately sat up again as a bony cushion prodded her back.  “Where’s dad?  I thought you both wanted to talk to me.”

“Your father was called away at the last minute, but he of course sends his love.”

“Hmm,” Mary’s father had been retired for six years and was kept occupied by the club.  More likely he was deliberately avoiding her after hearing about her newest life-shattering decision.

 “I suppose he went off the wall when he heard our plans.”

Delores returned carrying a silver tray laden with blue and white china and set it on the low table between them.  She had not bothered with Mary’s coffee.  Her mother handed Mary and Hannah their cups before taking a sip from hers.  “Your phone call certainly took both of us by surprise” she said delicately. 

“Well there’s nothing you can do about it now.”  Mary was painfully aware that she sounded like a spoiled child, but she pressed on.  “We’ve already bought our tickets.  We leave for Moscow in two weeks.”

“My, my so soon?” Her mother spoke as though humoring the imaginings of a toddler.  “I hope you’ll have enough time to get your affairs in order.  How long do you expect to be away?”

“As long as we have to be” Mary said stubbornly.

“Five years isn’t it?” 

Mary looked at her mother, wary and surprised.

“That’s what Comrade Stalin promised, isn’t that right?  Five years and Soviet industry will surpass one-hundred and fifty years of American progress?  Oh yes,” she gave Mary a reproving stare.  “I read more than just the society pages.”

“Then you’ll also know that experts are saying the economic collapse in the West in light of Russia’s expansion is evidence of the failure of capitalism.  And that one hundred thousand others have already applied for immigration from America.”

“The word is emigration dear, seeing as you’re leaving the country.  I suppose Symon already has a job lined up in Moscow?”

In fact, neither Symon nor Mary had managed to arrange even a tourist visa.  They had applied at the Amtorg Trading Corporation in Manhattan that had advertised the need for thousands of Americans to fill jobs in the Soviet Union in the New York Times, but they were a too late in applying and all of the advertised slots had been filled.  Refusing to accept the idea that the Soviet Union had already fulfilled its quota of enthusiastic foreign workers, Symon booked the family passage to Russia and wrote to the Soviet authorities in Moscow to request a family visa.  So far there had been no response, but the sales agent that had booked their ticket had assured them that this could be obtained in-country.  All they would need was enough money to support them for their first week before they found jobs.

“We’ll be fine” Mary assured her mother.  “No need to worry.”

“Well of course I’ll worry.  I always worry about you Mary.  I worried when you moved to the city and I’ll worry just as much now that you’re planning on moving to the other side of the world.  You’re my daughter and I’ll always care about what happens to you.”

Mary was taken aback.  “I didn’t mean it like that” she said. 

“And naturally I care about what happens to Hannah too.”  She leaned forward to stroke the hair of her granddaughter who, bored by the adults’ conversation, was busily tucking in to a plate of butter cookies.  “Now if you and Symon decide to move to Russia there’s certainly nothing your father and I can do to stop you, but we wonder if you’ve thought about the effect this will have on her.”

Mary sighed.  “What effect, mother?”

“You are taking an American child out of her home environment to an entirely foreign place.”  She drew Hannah close and stroked her hair.  “Now I don’t know what the situation will be in five years.  But I know that life in Russia at present is not at all what she’s used to.  Are you certain that you want to subject her to that?”

“Children are quite resilient mother.  I’m sure Hannah will have an easier time adjusting than even Symon and I will.”

“What I’m suggesting” her mother continued as though she hadn’t heard her, “is that Hannah stay here with us.  After all, you said the move isn’t permanent.  And she’ll be much happier here.  Attending school, making friends…”

“Absolutely not.”  Mary stood up and pulled Hannah away from her mother.  “I’m not leaving my daughter with you.  In fact, I’d be more worried about the insidious effect this environment would have on her than living in Russia.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hannah is not going to grow up like I did.  She won’t become another bourgeois American who thinks she’s better than the everyday man on account of her postal address.”

“Now just calm down Mary and at least consider what’s in her best interest.”

“I’ll send you a postcard from Moscow, mother.”  And with that Mary swept her daughter out of the house.