Mom has some sort of secret from me,» Katya told her husband right after the wedding. «And I don’t look like my father at all. He doesn’t love me. And I kind of…»
It was true. Katya couldn’t help herself. As long as she could remember, she knew her father, Mikhail. And he wasn’t exactly a bad father. Probably even a good one. He took them, his wife and Katya, to rest every summer. He took Katya to his sports school—he was a weightlifting coach, and he brought his daughter for gymnastics. Good, healthy, beautiful. True, no one asked Katya if she wanted to do rhythmic gymnastics. But she didn’t want to. Even the coach, Marina Vasilievna, told her father.
«The muscles are rubbish. They don’t stretch at all. Mish, not everyone has the predisposition. Katya’s flexibility is poor. Put her in volleyball if you’re so eager for the girl to do sports.»
«All the more reason to stretch them if they don’t stretch!» exclaimed Mikhail. «Difficulties toughen and strengthen. I’m not asking to make a champion out of her. It’s all for discipline and health, Marin. And if she even places somewhere—what’s so bad about that?»
Overall, Katya suffered from pain and anguish in gymnastics. And from her own imperfection. But her father was pleased. Why wasn’t he interested in Katya’s suffering? A mystery.
Then, when she graduated from school—from the hated gymnastics she had quit a couple of years before—her father was outraged by Katya’s choice of university.
«What kind of philology department? What kind of faculty is that even? What will you become?»
«Misha, don’t overdo it! Not what, but who!» her mother intervened. «But overall, Dad’s right. What kind of abstract profession is that?»
She sometimes intervened. Not as often as one would like, but it happened. She intervened and, it seemed, tried to protect Katya. But in reality, she was always on her husband’s side.
«No, Liza! You can ‘become’ if the profession is useful. It brings benefits to people. And here—neither fish nor fowl. Will you sit in a library or what?»
«Yes, I will be in a library! And what?»
God, why?! Why didn’t she feel any kinship with this person at all?
There, in the library, where Katya indeed came after graduating in philology, she met her future husband. By that time, the estrangement between her and her father had become critical. It reached its peak. Mikhail did not hide his contempt for Katya. He disliked her lack of athleticism and her strange, in his opinion, career choice. Relations with his wife also became strained. He seemed globally disappointed and did not try to hide it.
Katya, meanwhile, grew up and often carefully studied herself in the mirror. Then she looked at the photographs of her parents in their youth. She did not resemble either of them. How was this possible? Both her mother and father were light-haired. Mother with gray, father—with blue eyes. Katya was a brunette with brown eyes and a somewhat Caucasian nose. Well, almost Caucasian—large, with a small hump. Her parents had Slavic noses. Something was unclean here…
«Mom, did you adopt me?» Katya once bluntly asked her mother.
«Have you lost your mind?» her mother gasped. «No, of course not! Ask your aunt how I gave birth to you, I almost died.»
«Why?»
«It was a long process. Plus, you were not born small.»
«It’s just that Dad doesn’t love me…»
«Yes, he’s got something on his mind, yes. As if he loves no one and nothing but his work. Katya, don’t make things up. I love you very, very much. For both of us.»
After that conversation, Katya no longer asked her mother any questions. She met Igor, who was a good and modest guy. He came for books for a long time and was shy, but then he finally asked Katya on a date. They quickly found common ground and liked each other. A year later, Katya was getting married to Igor. The wedding went normally. And even her father was there, though not for long—he cited an urgent personal training session. And after the wedding, Katya decided to talk to her newly minted husband. She announced the secret.
Igor, upon closer inspection, was not only modest. He was also smart and fun. He worked in IT, and this was in the late nineties. Now, yes, poke your finger anywhere—you’ll hit an IT guy. But back then, it was a rather rare profession. It didn’t bring much money, but Igor loved his job.
Hearing Katya’s speech about the secret and her father, he chuckled and said:
«Dear, secrets should be discussed before the wedding!»
She laughed. It was said in such a way that it became funny. Well, she definitely won’t be bored in her marriage.
«Igor, I’m serious, actually!»
«Well, okay. Let’s get serious. Have you talked to your parents?»
«Just with my mom.»
«What did she say? Does she have a secret? I understand you suspect your father is not your biological one, right?»
«I initially suspected my mother, too. You see, I don’t look like them at all. Not at all! But my mom loves me. And I feel her kinship. Just when I hug her. I feel kinship. But with my father, there has always been some tension. He tormented me all my childhood!»
Igor gasped and bulged his eyes:
«Tormented?! What do you mean?»
They didn’t go anywhere after the wedding. They sat at home, in Igor’s apartment, which he had inherited from his grandparents. They breakfasted on leftover wedding cake, drank coffee. And here Katya with talks about secrets…
«He took me to gymnastics. But my muscles don’t stretch well. It was horribly painful! ‘At least the child goes to sports!’ Father himself has been in sports all his life. For him, people who don’t do sports, even if just during the holidays, are not people. Philologists for him are also not people. I sometimes think that everyone for him are not people, but he alone is a person. He himself is a superman.»
«So what did mom say? Is your father biological?»
«She says, yes. She says, biological. But I feel…»
«Kat, I think you need to think less about this. We’re married, Katya! Married! We now have our own family.»
A year later, Katya and Igor had a son, Vitya. Named after Igor’s father. By the way, no-no, but Katya still thought about her dissimilarity to her parents. Like, Igor, for example, strongly resembled his mother. And Katya, surely, resembled her real father. What does it turn out? Her mother… had an affair?
As long as Katya knew her mother, she had been exceptionally decent and faithful as a wife. She had never been anywhere but work and home. Her mother worked at a school, a physics teacher. By the way, when Katya was applying to the university, her mother was not too pleased, either. She thought her daughter would choose the exact sciences. And, as always, stood on the father’s side. No, she did not hurt Katya. But always supported the father. If the father says that sports are useful, then it must be so. If the father says that friend Yulia has a bad influence on Katya, then it must be so. Dad is always right. Katya didn’t understand her mother, but it was exactly like that…
Supportive. Loyal. Always looked at her father with loving eyes. Could have had an affair, or not? No! Katya didn’t believe that! Or… were the eyes not loving, but guilty?
Vitya was born, by the way, resembling her. Dark-haired, brown-eyed. With a large nose. No, something was unclean here. And the father stopped communicating with Katya at all. She had long felt him as a stranger, but now she felt him completely unfamiliar. And the grandson changed nothing. He didn’t even interest Mikhail. Could he really be Katya’s father?!
When Vitya was nine years old, Katya’s mother, Liza, burst in without calling, on the brink of madness. It was evening, Katya had just sent her son to bed, and then the doorbell began ringing like an alarm. Igor jumped up and quickly opened the door.
«Yelizaveta Nikolaevna? What’s wrong with you?!»
Katya’s mother stood at the door in an unbuttoned coat, worn over a robe, with a disheveled hairstyle, and with eyes bulging in horror.
«Is Katya home?»
«At home. Come in. Did someone die?»
Liza nodded, then shook her head. They took her to the kitchen, and there they gave her tea. A little thawed from the hot tea, Katya’s mother burst into tears.
«Sh-sh! Not aloud! Vitya is asleep, he has school in the morning. What’s going on, mom?»
«He… he left me! Found another, twenty years younger, and left me!»
«Dad left you?»
«Not left,» she sobbed. «Said we’ll be exchanging the apartment. But yes, essentially—he left. Left… me… after so many years… what will I do alone? What?!»
And she burst into tears again.
«Mom, tell me, is Dad my biological father?» Katya asked.
Her mother wiped her tears with a napkin and said:
«Of course, biological! What are you imagining, Katya? You are our beloved native daughter. It’s just that you and Dad are both stubborn. You don’t want to give in to each other.»
«Mom! He left you! And you’re defending him?!»
«What am I going to do? What?! Who needs me?»
«And what can you exchange your apartment for?» suddenly asked Igor. «Why is he even planning to exchange it?»
«When we moved in together, we exchanged our living spaces. Mine and his. Combined them. He has the right. But what will I do without a husband?!»
«Oh, come on, mom! Easier for the mare when the wheel is off the wagon.»
She wasn’t too sorry for her mother. After all, she was hiding something from her… some family secret. And everyone was hiding it. Both mother and father, and aunt on the maternal line. Katya couldn’t discuss her suspicions with them too actively. She was raised to respect the elders, not to pester them with questions. Respect, love, help.
The parents divorced and sold the apartment. Mom bought a one-room apartment on the outskirts. Katya went to her, helped her move. Yelizaveta’s suffering was genuine, deep. But there was a firm feeling that she was not suffering over a specific person, but was mourning the fact that she was left alone. Liza was already over sixty. Her forced solitude was bitter. Her daughter had her own family, and her sister and her husband were doing well. And she… was completely alone. What to do now?
Meanwhile, Katya helped her mother move, and sorting through things, found an album in which she saw photographs of a baby. Or a toddler. She had never seen these photographs. And why? Mom was busy in the kitchen, and Katya wanted to shout something like: «Mom, is this me in the photo?» as the words froze in her throat. She opened another page, and saw a sheet of paper. An old sheet, with something handwritten on it. In her mother’s handwriting. Katya sneakily looked around, checking if her mom wasn’t watching. The handwriting was so-so. Not easy to make out.
On the page where the sheet was inserted, there were photos of the same baby, but older. Katya looked closer. The child resembled her Vitya in childhood. The same big nose and dark. No, it was definitely her! And then Katya did something inexplicable. Something she did not expect from herself. She pulled the sheet out of the album, folded it, and tucked it into her pocket. Then she closed the album and shoved it on the shelf, as far back as possible. She carefully blocked it with other albums and household books. Everything was old, from the seventies—Katya glanced at the publication year in one book. The books were her age-mates.
Mom was sad and sorrowful, Katya didn’t know how else to help her. She had already neglected her own family to support her mother.
«Want me to bring Vitya to you? For the holidays?»
«Bring him for the weekend. Katya, I feel so unwell… as if I’m dying.»
«Mom! No one has died from divorce. Everything will be okay.»
«Well yes, well yes…»
«Call if anything.»
Mom hadn’t had a mobile for a long time. But in two thousand five, Katya finally bought and imposed a phone on her mother to keep in touch. It had been three years. Now mom would have to call her, she couldn’t escape. Katya was sure. Dad left, what else was there for mom to do?
But mom called rarely. She suddenly decided not to suffer over her divorce. Liza went to yoga. And somewhere else, and even more. She started walking a lot. Became an active retiree, which greatly pleased Katya. Everything was good. Well… almost. The thing is, Katya read that sheet from the album. Read it carefully, deciphering each letter.
«We are left alone with Katya. Alex is no more…» was written on this sheet. Something else, but Katya didn’t bother to decipher it. She saw the main thing. What she had long suspected. And when she read it, the woman’s heart jumped to her throat.
Katya decisively went to visit her aunt, Nadezhda.
Nadya was making aspic and immediately seated Katya to peel garlic. The aunt was terribly businesslike and did not like idlers. Katya did not refuse the garlic, peeled it. And when Nadya took a handful of white cloves from her, suddenly asked:
«Was my father named Alex?»
Nadya collapsed on a stool, as if struck:
«Did she finally tell you?» the aunt asked in horror.
«No. But you said. And now I won’t let go!»
«Oh…»
«Well, there’s your ‘oh’! Nadya. Please, I beg you! Don’t curse, just tell the truth. Yes? Alex—is that Alexander?»
«Alexan. He was half Armenian, by his father. He was gone when you were half a year old. Alex was ill. Mother knew where it was going. But she had waited so long for a child. You appeared late to her. At thirty-two. So she gave birth, and Alex enjoyed you for a short time. Very short.»
«Nadya, how could it be?! I’ve been asking her all my life…» Katya cried bitterly.
«She won’t admit it even now. She married Misha almost immediately. She grieved, but she married. He was an old acquaintance, from the times he interned at their school, and fell in love with the young teacher. It didn’t bother him that Liza was married. He still showed her attention. Brought flowers. Sent a postcard.
«And the father? Well, Alex?»
«Alex wasn’t jealous. Laughed it off. They loved each other very much. Very! I have never seen such love.»
«Why did she marry Mikhail? And so quickly?»
«She wanted you to have a father. For you…»
«Well, I don’t know! She’s so devastated by him now.»
«Drop it! She was scared to lose her status. And being alone was unfamiliar, of course. But now your mom is busy with her own affairs. Fully engaged in herself, and long forgot about Mikhail.»
«Nadya… where is he… well…»
«Now, I’ll set the aspic, task Yurik to watch it, and we’ll go.»
They arrived at the cemetery on the outskirts of the city. The aunt confidently walked straight to the needed grave, as if she had been there, and not once.
«Well, here. Oganesov Alexan Davidovich. You won’t tell your mom, will you?»
«I won’t. Let her live in her sandcastle. Oh… and it’s all so well maintained here. Does he have other children?»
«He doesn’t have anyone. There was no one even when they met your mother. He was an orphanage kid. Your mom takes care of it. I help sometimes.»
«All these years?»
«Well, of course!»
Katya finally made up her mind. She raised her gaze from the well-kept grave to the monument. Looked at the portrait in the oval frame and shuddered. She was almost a copy of the young man in the monument. Practically the same face. Katya felt moisture on her cheeks. She took two steps and placed her hand on the cold marble. Her neck also became wet. Tears were already pouring in streams.
«Hello, Dad!» said Katya. «It’s me. I’ve grown up already.»
Behind her, Nadya sobbed quietly…
