Redemption

Raskolnikov blinks in the bright sunlight, his head spinning with the enormity of having the freedom to go where he pleases for the first time in so many years. Just for a moment he’s transported back to ‘that’ day; if only he had made this decision or that, not heard those words or these... but enough! – he chides himself fiercely as he leans against the wall, suddenly terrified by the enormity of what is yet to come.  Sonya has not yet arrived to meet him – and suppose she has had a change of heart? Perhaps some unfriendly person, wishing to do him injury, has turned her head so that a life with Rodion Raskolnikov no longer seems like an attractive prospect after all....

Recognising the anxious mood his thoughts have turned him to, he blinks and sighs. And almost faints with fright as a hand grasps his. 

‘Hush, don’t be frightened, Rodya!  Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our agreement already?’

He opens his eyes to see Sonya laughing up at him, and joy fills his heart. He grins and pulls her to him in a self-conscious embrace.  ‘Never!’ he assures her, because that much at least is true. But faced with the reality of freedom; the choices that are yet to be made, acquaintances to be rekindled and so forth, he’s suddenly unsure of himself. How can Sonya be so calm and self-assured that she is doing the right thing?

Later, he doesn’t remember much of the next few hours – he simply follows Sonya, who seems to have it all worked out- recalling only that they walked for a long time to reach their lodgings for the night. Neither of them has been in the best of health during this last winter and spring; both are exhausted by the time they reach the apartment Sonya has booked for their first night together.  The landlord is a surly individual, who leads them up three flights of stairs with a disinterested air. What he makes of them is hard to tell, but by the time they reach the small and sparsely furnished room Rodya hardly cares. He sits heavily on the bed without removing his jacket and wishes only for sleep. But it would be bad manners in the circumstances, he feels; and so he sits, watching as Sonya moves about the room. It’s only then that he realises she has been carrying a large carpet bag -containing all manner of who knows what- for the entire duration of their journey. He had not even noticed, so preoccupied with himself had he been. He drops his eyes and feels ashamed. What must she be thinking of him now?

‘Will you take tea before we retire?’  She asks him, suddenly shy.  She’s regretting it, I knew she would.

He looks up, only now realising that he is very thirsty – and hungry. He nods wordlessly, and continues to watch as she bustles to and fro. Eventually she stops and turns to him with a half-smile, half frown. ‘What’s wrong?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, nothing, truly.... you seem so organised, efficient. Whereas I ....’ He drops his head. For some reason he wants nothing more than to cry, and that will never do.

Sonya abandons her task and comes to crouch down in front of him. She covers his hands (which are trembling slightly) with her own and looks earnestly into his eyes.

‘Don’t talk like that! You’re doing just fine, Rodya. You’ve been ill, and it will take time to become accustomed to freedom.  Don’t fret.’ 

He looks up at her then, and realises to his shame that he is crying. ‘I don’t deserve you, Sonya.’

‘Hush! I won’t hear such talk!  You’re tired – let me help you out of your coat and then we can rest.’

He doesn’t remember undressing, but suddenly he’s lying naked between cool sheets – clean sheets, oh blessed wonder- and a cool hand is stroking his brow. He shivers, feeling hot and cold at the same time, and wonders if he might be suffering a relapse of the fever which has plagued him so often in recent months. He opens his mouth to speak and his teeth chatter with cold.

‘S-Sonya, I-I’m sorry, s-so sorry for a-all of this...’ 

‘Ssshhh, Rodya, ssshhh... you’re exhausted. No talking, not tonight. Just rest and things will seem different in the morning, you’ll see.’

He must have fallen into a feverish doze then because the next thing he’s aware of is her body next to his; skin against skin and his heart begins to pound so that he thinks it might leap from his chest. ‘S-Sonya...’ now he’s crying again but is powerless to stop the tears or the violent sobs which threaten to shake him from the very bed. ‘Y-you w-waited, I d-don’t deserve y-you...’

‘Hush, hush my love. Of course I waited. I keep my promises. Now rest, please. You are so weak...let me take care of you. Please. And then you can sleep.’

He nods, fever and chills coursing hot and cold through his body so that he hardly knows his own condition, and feels the warmth of her body as she presses herself against him. When her hands start to roam over his skin he feels a moment’s confusion before the meaning of her words sinks in.  Horror brings bile to his throat as he recalls her past life and an assignation seen with his own eyes... so long ago but an image which has often taunted him in his darkest hours when he has been sure that she will have gone back to her life in St Petersburg.

‘No... uh...’  he rolls to the edge of the bed and is violently sick. When the spasms have eased Sonya lays him back, cleans his face and then tucks the blankets around him, leaving him to lie in quiet confusion while she attends to the mess he has made. A little while later she comes back to him with a glass of cool water and helps him to sit up against the bolster; she has to hold the vessel to his lips because his hands are shaking too much.

‘Th-thank you, d-dear Sonya...’ he murmurs, suddenly overcome with the urge to sleep.

‘I told you, dearest Rodya – I keep my promises. Now sleep...’  She begins to croon softly, and after a moment he recognises a familiar tune; a lullaby his mother would sing to help him sleep when he was a small child and frightened of the dark.  A momentary pang of sadness washes over him as he recalls the news of his mother’s passing, many years ago now.... and then Sonya’s voice, so different to his mothers’, soothes him and he slides into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Sonya continues to sing softly long after Rodya’s slow and even breaths tell her that he is finally sleeping. Eventually she quietens and lies beside her man, content that at last they are together. Tomorrow will be another day, no doubt with its own challenges to overcome, but they are together at last and that is all that matters.

**
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