Hey, you cripple! Cripple!”
Sasha doesn’t turn around; he knows it’s Volodya from the fifth floor. Better not to answer. Maybe he’ll leave him alone.
“Aleksandr!” Volodya persists. “Look at this hard worker. It’s New Year’s Eve, and he’s out here working. Good on him! Work loves fools.”
“Leave Sashenka alone! Why are you picking on him?” That’s Lenochka, Volodya’s girlfriend.
She’s much kinder than Volodya himself. She never offends Sasha, doesn’t call him a fool or a cripple, and always greets him politely.
There, it looks like they’ve gone. Sasha props his shovel against the bench and turns around—yes, they’ve really left. He can take a break and daydream for a bit.
Sasha is already thirty-five, but he still believes that sometimes miracles happen—especially at New Year’s. Small ones, at least. For instance, yesterday…
His mom was so upset that they didn’t have a Christmas tree:
“It’s so sad, Sashka. It used to be different, remember? Everything felt kinder somehow. And we decorated a tree almost every year. You remember?”
Sasha does remember. He would buy a tree this year, too, if he could. But he can’t. She would scold him, get anxious. She was quite clear: “Don’t even think about it! It’s way too expensive! We’ll manage without one!”
And just look how things turned out: this morning he was asked to clear the snow at the Christmas tree market. Sasha shoveled away the brown, slushy mess flattened by hundreds of feet, threw out the pine clippings, spread some sand on the path leading into the chain-link enclosure where the trees were kept.
“Well done, thanks!” the stout, red-faced tree seller told him. “How should I pay you? Want to take a tree? I’ve got some rejects over there.”
Naturally, Sasha agreed. He picked out a suitable little tree from the pile. It’s a bit bare on one side, but that doesn’t matter—Sasha will place it in the corner so the scruffy side won’t show, and the good side will face out. His mom will be so happy; that festive evergreen smell will fill the room… Right now the little tree is standing in the lobby, out of the way, so it doesn’t bother the neighbors. Sasha is looking forward to taking it upstairs. He just needs to finish clearing the walks by the entrances.
“Sash, help me out, will you?” That’s his neighbor from the second floor, Lyokha.
He’s a good guy, though Sasha’s mom calls him a “burzhuy” (“bourgeois”). Lyokha never offends Sasha, but he does often ask for favors. Sasha usually doesn’t mind. He likes helping people. He even likes his job.
“Sashka, the snowplow buried me—help me out!” Lyokha pleads.
Sasha grabs his shovel and follows Lyokha to his car—a big, beautiful, expensive one. Right now only the roof is sticking out of the snowdrift.
“How do they even clear snow like this?” Lyokha grumbles. “I’d swear, but if I don’t swear, I’ve got nothing to say! Will you help me?”
Sasha nods and begins to dig. There’s a lot of snow, and the shovel feels heavier with every scoop, but he manages quickly. Lyokha is pleased. He hops into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks, Sashka! Here, take this! Happy New Year!” He hands Sasha a shiny, festive bag decorated with snowflakes.
Sasha peers inside and freezes in amazement: there’s a whole treasure in there. A jar of red caviar, champagne, a chocolate bar, a pretty pink ornament for the tree… He looks up at Lyokha and thanks him.
“No problem!” Lyokha smiles. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out some bills, and tucks them into Sasha’s work jacket. “And here’s for your trouble!”
Sasha feels awkward: both a gift and money… He wants to say something, but Lyokha’s already started the engine and driven off.
Sasha hurries home. He needs to bring in the tree and Lyokha’s gift, then come back to finish the sidewalks. The snow keeps coming down…
“Where did that come from?” his mom asks when a proud Sasha sets up the little tree in the corner and hands her the shiny bag.
She’s amazed. Sasha quickly explains that he got the tree and the bag (and even some money) for his work. Mom smiles, and he’s happy: he’s fulfilled one of her wishes, made her glad. She even sits up in bed, reaches for her warm flannel robe. She’s not feeling well today; lately, she hasn’t been feeling well quite often.
The doorbell rings. Sasha opens it—it’s their neighbor Olya. She often comes by to see his mom, sometimes to give her injections. Sasha likes Olya: she’s kind, pretty, works at a hospital. Mom likes her too:
“Oh, Sashka, if only you had a wife like that!”
Sasha usually just shrugs. He’s long since resigned himself to the fact he’ll probably never have a wife. He knows women like handsome, rich, and smart men. And he’s none of that.
“But you’re hardworking and kind,” Mom counters, then admits Sasha is probably right. “Yes, that’s not valued these days. Such a pity.”
Olya wouldn’t marry him anyway, even if she were single. And she’s not—she has a husband, Pasha. He’s not a bad guy, but they argue often. Sasha hears their fights through the thin walls.
“I’m so sick of this, I’m running myself ragged. I just want some peace at home. But no—you come back drunk again!” Olya yells.
“I’m not drunk,” Pasha’s voice is quieter; he doesn’t scream, just raises his voice a bit. “I had just a little. I’ll heat up your dinner. Don’t yell at me, Olyenka.”
But she can’t stop. She yells, then cries, and only then settles down. From their arguments, Sasha knows what bothers her: Olya’s father was a drunk, and he ruined her mother’s life. She’s afraid the same fate awaits her. Usually, they make up quickly. But sometimes Pasha leaves the apartment and sits on a bench for a long time…
“How’s your mom?” Olya asks, and Sasha just shrugs, guiding her to his mom’s room.
Then he heads back out to finish his work.
He’s shoveling snow, mulling things over: “I should run to the store and buy something for our holiday meal. Lyokha’s money came right on time.” They’ve spent a lot this month. Medicine is expensive, and his mom’s been under the weather. She gets certain benefits as a retiree, and Sasha works, but they’re still short on cash as the holiday approaches.
Finally, Sasha looks over his finished work. He’s satisfied. Time to hit the store. He fills his cart wisely. He might not be a professor, but he can count money. He buys everything he wanted, plus a pack of cheap hot dogs on sale.
The hot dogs are for the dog that followed him as soon as he left the yard. She stayed with him all the way to the store entrance, and he promised her a treat. Let her have a holiday too.
Leaving through the glass doors, Sasha crouches down, tears open the package with his teeth, pulls out a single hot dog from the pink plastic, and offers it to the dog. She sniffs it with her graying muzzle, grabs it, munches happily, and growls softly in delight. Sasha feels sorry for her. She seems old. No collar—so, she belongs to no one?
He stands up and pats his thigh. “Come on.” The dog wags her tail and follows him. Together they reach the building entrance.
Olya’s husband, Pavel, is sitting on the bench, slumped forward. Sasha greets him. Pavel lifts his head, nods, pats the bench:
“Sit with me, Sanyok. I’m miserable. There’s only a little while before the New Year, and my wife and I are at it again—big fight this time! I don’t blame her. She’s at the end of her rope. She asked me not to drink until midnight, but I downed a shot, and she flipped out. ‘Get out,’ she says, ‘if you won’t listen. Go celebrate somewhere else!’ So I left… I figured it’d give her time to cool off. Now I don’t know how to go back, or if I even should. She’s really mad.”
Sasha listens. The little dog circles at his feet. He feels sorry for Pavel and for Olya, but he doesn’t know what to say. He’s no expert on relationships. Plus, it’s time to go home—the dog is shivering all over, and he still needs to decorate the tree. So he invites Pasha over to his place.
“Why would you want me around?” Pavel waves him off, but there’s a note of hope in his eyes.
Sasha says of course he wants him; he’ll be a guest, after all, and it’s not right for someone to be alone on a festive night, freezing outside. Pasha nods. They head up the stairs.
Sasha doesn’t get a chance to open his own door. The neighbor across the hall, Grandma Masha, peeks out.
“Oh, it’s you…” she says disappointedly. “I was hoping…”
Sasha wishes her a happy holiday and asks why her eyes are so red—has she been crying? Grandma Masha sniffles. Sasha is surprised. Yesterday, she was rushing to the store with such a glow: “My daughter’s coming, bringing my grandson! I have to make salads, bake a pie! I’m off—so much to do!” And now she’s in tears?
“They didn’t come,” Grandma Masha sighs. “Something came up… Everyone’s busy these days; nobody has time for their mother anymore!”
Pasha tries awkwardly to comfort her. Sasha suddenly has an idea. He invites Grandma Masha over. After all, why should she sit at home by herself? She’s embarrassed, murmurs that it’s not necessary, but then she nods:
“All right, I’ll pop by in a minute. I’ll just grab all the food I made—otherwise, who’s going to eat it?”
Pasha offers to help carry things. Sasha and the dog go into his apartment.
“Who’s this now?” his mom asks.
She looks better. Sasha tells her how he found the dog, then ran into Pavel, then Grandma Masha, and how he’s invited them all. He hopes Mom doesn’t mind. She won’t have to do anything. He’ll set the table, decorate the tree, and clean up afterwards.
“Well, at least let me do something,” Mom says with a smile. “For example, give the dog a name.”
Sasha nods happily.
“Mushka? Nochka? Sazha?” Mom cycles through what she thinks are fitting names for the little black dog. “Taina! (Secret)”
Sasha likes that name. The dog seems to like it too; she wags her tail and gazes sweetly at Mom.
The front door bangs—it must be Pasha and Grandma Masha. Time to get ready for the New Year.
They’re sitting at the table. Pasha is squirming, anxious; finally he can’t take it anymore:
“I’m going home to make amends with Olya. I can’t stand it like this.”
Sasha nods—that’s probably the right thing. Pasha stands, apologizes, wishes them a happy new year. Just then the doorbell rings again.
“Goodness,” Mom says. “We haven’t had this many visitors all year!”
Sasha goes to open the door. It’s Olya.
“Have you seen my husband? He left and never came back… I shouted at him today. I’m so ashamed.”
Sasha smiles and invites Olya inside. Pasha embraces his wife, kisses her cheek, asks her forgiveness.
“Go on, you two make up and stay! It’s time to see the Old Year out!”
Olya agrees and sits down beside him. The little tree twinkles in the corner. Mom is in her favorite chair, and Taina is dozing contentedly on her lap. Olya stands up and raises her glass:
“Thank you all for everything! Especially you, Sasha—you’re a good man! I wish you meet a wonderful woman.”
Sasha blushes and thanks her. He truly hopes Olya’s wish will come true. Maybe there really is someone out there who could love him as he is. He understands himself well… Yes, he’s not all that smart. But he does know how to love and care for people.
Maybe… But even if this year turns out like all the rest, with nothing changing, he won’t despair. After all, he has his job, his mom, good people around him—plus a dog now. He’s happy enough as it is.
