Fedorov has a gift for me

I’m leaning over a desk in the communications room. Kozlov has me translating a letter from German to Russian. The blood on it tells me how our troops got their hands on it. It’s some kind of order but there are a lot of words that I don’t know, and my books are back with Sasha’s dead uncle.

I don’t pay the heavy footsteps behind me any mind until I feel a thick hand grab my ass. I bolt straight up and turn my head around just to catch a big whiff of Fedorov’s oniony breath, and a face full of his bushy mustache and yellow teeth.

“You look very pretty today, Tatyana.” He says to me with a big grin, giving my ass a good smack before placing his hand around my waist. He tries to pull me a little closer to him but I stand firm. I don’t say anything, I only look at him.

“What are you working on?” He asks me, turning his head to the desk.

“I’m translating this order for Lieutenant Kozlov, comrade commissar.” I answer.

“That can wait.” He says. “Come with me to my office. I have something for you.”

My back stiffens up. I have a lump in my throat that makes it impossible to talk. All that I can manage is a weak, close lipped smile and a glance into his jaundiced eyes.

“Go ahead.” He says. “Ladies first.”

Whenever I go somewhere with him, he always makes me walk in front of him so he can stare at my ass. I don’t mind it, because for a moment I get to be in a space that hasn’t been contaminated by his stench yet, and I don’t have to look at him.

He puts his hand on my back to walk me through his door. I shudder when it closes behind us. We’re all alone.

“Come and sit down.” He says, going over to his desk. “Take your cap off, let your hair down.”

I notice that he’s speaking informally to me and it makes my skin crawl. In Russian, there are two ways to talk to someone. One is how you would speak to a stranger, or an authority, or somebody in a professional setting. The other is how you would speak to a close friend or a family member.

“Yes, comrade commissar.” I say as I make my way over to the front of his desk.

“Enough ‘comrade commissar.” Fedorov tells me. “You can call me Ivan when we’re alone.”

“Okay… Ivan.” I say nervously.

“Go on, go on.” He says, waving his hand at my head. “Put your hair down.”

I set my cap in my lap and reluctantly let my hair down for him.

“Veerry nice.” He says with a chuckle before stopping to cough violently for an uncomfortably long period of time. He opens a drawer in his desk.

“Look at this, Tatyana.” He says, pulling a pair of items out of his desk. It’s a hairbrush and a small mirror that he probably had looted out of somebody’s house. “I want you to have these.”

“Thank you com- … Ivan” I say, taking them from him and holding them in my lap.

“Of course!” He says with a big creepy smile. “I like you pretty.”

I sit across from him, looking at him, not knowing what to say or do.

“Comrade commissar!” Somebody yells, bursting through the door. “Captain Zaitsev needs you in the…”

“God damn it!” Fedorov roars and pounds his fists on his desk. He stands up and points at the soldier, his skin turning bright red. “Don’t you EVER come in here without knocking!”

“Y-yes, comrade commissar.” He responds nervously.

“Now what the fuck is your problem?” Fedorov barks at him.

“Captain Zaitsev sent me to come and get you, comrade commissar. He said that he needs you urgently.” He reports.

“This better be really fucking important, for you to interrupt me.” Fedorov snarls, grabbing his commissar’s hat and jamming it down on top of his bald head.

“Go back to what you were doing. I’ll be seeing you later.” He says to me and gives me a wink. We follow the soldier out of Fedorov’s office and leave in different directions.