«Hey, lame man! Cripple!»
Sasha keeps walking, ignoring the taunts. He knows it’s Volodya from the fifth floor, and he’s learned that responding only makes it worse.
«Aleksandr!» Volodya calls out again. «Look at you, working hard on New Year’s Eve. Isn’t he a diligent one? They say work loves a fool.»
«Stop bothering Sasha! Why are you always on his case?» That’s Lenochka, Volodya’s girlfriend, coming to Sasha’s defense.
Lenochka is kinder than Volodya could ever be. She treats Sasha with respect, always greets him warmly, and never uses harsh words like the others.
Finally, they leave. Sasha leans his shovel against a bench and turns to make sure they’re gone. Yes, they’ve moved on. He sighs in relief and allows himself a moment to rest and dream a little.
Sasha is thirty-five and still clings to the hope that New Year’s might bring small miracles. Like what happened just yesterday…
His mother had been lamenting their lack of a Christmas tree:
«It’s such a pity, Sashka. Remember how it used to be? We always had a tree, decorated it together. Do you remember?»
Sasha remembers well. He would have bought a tree this year too if he could afford it. But his mother was adamant about not spending the money, insisting they could do without.
But as fate would have it, that morning he was asked to clear snow at the Christmas tree market. After shoveling away the muddy snow and cleaning up, the tree seller, a jolly man with a red face, was grateful.
«Great job! How should I pay you? Maybe take a tree? I’ve got some leftovers.»
Sasha didn’t hesitate and picked a small tree. It was a bit sparse on one side, but perfect for placing in a corner. He imagined the joy it would bring his mother, the smell of evergreen filling their home. For now, the tree waited in the lobby, not to bother anyone.
«Sash, can you give me a hand?» It’s Lyokha from the second floor, another neighbor.
Lyokha is alright, though Sasha’s mom sometimes jokingly calls him a «bourgeois» because he never seems to struggle like they do. He’s always polite and appreciative of Sasha’s help.
«My car’s buried by the snowplow—can you dig me out?» Lyokha asks, frustration evident in his voice.
Sasha grabs his shovel and follows him to where only the roof of Lyokha’s sleek car shows above the snow.
«How can they even call this plowing?» Lyokha grumbles as Sasha starts shoveling. «I’d curse, but I’m trying to keep it clean!»
Sasha just nods and keeps digging until the car is free. Lyokha is thrilled, hopping into his car with a grateful nod.
«Thanks, Sasha! Here, this is for you. Happy New Year!» He hands Sasha a festive bag adorned with snowflakes.
Inside, Sasha finds a small feast: red caviar, champagne, chocolate, and a delicate pink tree ornament. He’s stunned by the generosity.
Lyokha isn’t done yet. He hands Sasha some cash, stuffing it into his jacket. «And this is for your hard work!»
Sasha is overwhelmed with both a gift and money. He wants to express his gratitude, but Lyokha is already driving away.
Sasha hurries back home, eager to set up the tree and show his mother the gifts. As he works through the snow, he can’t help but feel a bit of the miracle he hoped for—it’s right there in his hands.
«What’s all this?» his mother exclaims as Sasha arranges the little tree and hands her the shiny bag, beaming with pride and the spirit of the season.
Sasha’s mother is touched by his gifts. As he explains how he acquired the tree and the items, her face lights up with a smile, a rare moment of joy amidst her frequent bouts of illness. She even manages to sit up and reach for her robe, a sign she wants to enjoy the moment fully.
The doorbell interrupts their small celebration. It’s Olya, their neighbor, who often helps with medical care for Sasha’s mom. Sasha appreciates Olya’s kindness and professionalism. His mother often teases him, saying he should find a wife as caring as Olya, though Sasha knows that’s unlikely. He’s resigned to the fact that he doesn’t fit the typical mold of what women desire in a partner. But his mother always tries to boost his spirits, even though she agrees that genuine kindness like his is undervalued nowadays.
Olya is married to Pasha, and although he’s decent enough, their marriage is strained. Sasha frequently hears their arguments through the walls, Olya lamenting Pasha’s drinking, fearing it might lead to the same ruin she witnessed in her childhood.
«How’s your mom?» Olya asks upon entering, her concern genuine.
Sasha shrugs, not wanting to delve into details, and guides her to his mother’s room. Once she’s settled with Olya, Sasha returns to his chores outside.
With the money from Lyokha, Sasha plans to buy some holiday groceries. Money is tight, especially with his mom’s medical expenses and the constant worry over their modest income. He meticulously selects affordable items, ensuring they have something special for the New Year’s celebration. On his way out, he buys a pack of hot dogs on sale for a stray dog that has taken to following him around.
Outside the store, he feeds the dog, touched by her gratitude and apparent need. Despite the cold, she seems content for the moment.
As he approaches his building, he sees Pasha on a bench, looking forlorn. Pasha shares his woes; he’s had another falling-out with Olya over his drinking, and he’s unsure how to make amends. He’s been banished from their home until he sobers up.
Sasha listens sympathetically but feels out of his depth offering relationship advice. Yet, seeing Pasha so downcast, and with the festive season upon them, he can’t just walk away. He invites Pasha to join him and his mother for the evening. Despite Pasha’s initial hesitation, his loneliness is apparent, and he gratefully accepts Sasha’s invitation.
They walk up the stairs together, the stray dog trotting along, now seemingly a part of Sasha’s small, makeshift family. It’s a modest New Year’s gathering, but for Sasha, bringing a little warmth and companionship into his home feels like the right thing to do.
Sasha doesn’t even reach his own door before the neighbor across the hall, Grandma Masha, cracks hers open.
“Oh, it’s you…” she says, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I was hoping…”
Sasha greets her warmly and inquires about her red, tearful eyes, recalling her excitement just yesterday about preparing for her daughter and grandson’s visit: “My daughter’s coming, I need to cook, bake a pie! So much to do!” Yet now, she’s in tears.
“They didn’t make it,” Grandma Masha sighs heavily. “Something else came up… It seems nobody has time for an old woman these days.”
Pasha, standing awkwardly aside, tries to offer some comfort, but it’s clear he’s out of his depth. Sensing an opportunity to spread some holiday cheer, Sasha impulsively invites her over. “Why sit alone? Come join us. What about all the food you prepared?”
She hesitates, embarrassed, but then agrees, “Alright, I’ll come over in a bit. I’ll bring the food—otherwise, it’ll just go to waste.”
Pasha offers to help her with the dishes, and Sasha heads into his apartment with the dog trailing behind him.
“Who’s this?” his mom asks, looking more lively.
Sasha explains his encounters outside: finding the dog, bumping into Pavel, and inviting over Grandma Masha. He assures his mom she won’t have to lift a finger; he’ll handle everything.
“Let me at least name the dog,” she suggests, smiling.
She rattles off a few names, settling on “Taina” (Secret). Sasha agrees, and the dog seems to approve, wagging her tail and settling comfortably by his mom.
Soon, there’s a knock—Pasha and Grandma Masha with her arms full of festive dishes. As they prepare for the New Year’s Eve celebration, Pasha grows restless, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.
“I need to go back to Olya,” he suddenly declares, unable to stay still any longer. “I need to make things right.”
As Sasha nods in understanding, the doorbell rings again—this time it’s Olya, looking worried and remorseful.
“I’ve been so awful today,” she confesses as she steps inside. “I yelled at him and now he’s gone.”
Just as she finishes her sentence, Pasha steps forward, embracing her warmly, seeking forgiveness. Encouraged by Sasha, they reconcile and join the festive table.
As they settle in, the little tree sparkling in the corner and Taina snoozing on Mom’s lap, Olya raises her glass to toast:
“Thank you all, especially you, Sasha. You’re a kind soul,” she says. “I hope this year you find someone who sees that.”
Sasha blushes, touched by her words and the unexpected support. He allows himself to hope, just a bit, that maybe there is someone out there for him. But even if nothing changes, he’s content with his life—surrounded by his mom, good neighbors, and now a loyal dog. He’s found happiness in his own way, in the little community he’s built right here.
