— Mom, you have to help me.
— Sorry, darling, but I don’t owe you anything.
These words hung in the air like heavy raindrops before a storm. Ekaterina Vasilyevna tightened her grip on the phone so that her knuckles turned white. On the other end of the line, there was a ringing silence.
— What do you mean, «I don’t owe you anything»? — Elena’s voice quivered. — You’re my mother!
Ekaterina Vasilyevna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Outside, yellow leaves swirled around — autumn was painting the world in its favorite colors, as if trying to hide the ugly truth of life behind a golden curtain.
— Lenochka, listen…
— No, you listen! — her daughter interrupted. — You’re selling the house that you and dad built your whole life. YOUR WHOLE LIFE, mom! And you didn’t even consult with me!
Ekaterina Vasilyevna slowly sank into the old armchair — the one where her Petya used to sit, reading the newspaper in the evenings. Three years had passed since he was gone, yet she still felt his presence in this big house. In every corner, in every floorboard that remembered his steps.
— And why should I consult with you, daughter? — she asked quietly. — This is my house. It was ours with your father, and now it’s mine.
— But don’t you understand, this is inheritance! It’s my and Yanochka’s future! — Elena’s voice was ringing with tears. — And now you’re just… just destroying everything! And for what? To buy yourself a little apartment in the city?
“How do you not understand?” — thought Ekaterina Vasilyevna, looking at the photo of her husband on the wall. Petya was smiling at her from there — just as young as he had been thirty years ago when they first began building this house.
— Lena, my girl, — she began softly, — it’s hard for me to be alone in such a big house. I… I’m suffocating here.
— Then move in with us! We invited you!
Ekaterina Vasilyevna bitterly smiled. Yes, they had invited her. Once or twice, just out of politeness. Then there were endless hints about how cramped they were in the three-room apartment, how they didn’t have enough money for a new car for Vlad, how Yanochka was growing and needed her own room…
— No, Lenochka. I’ve made up my mind. I’m selling the house, buying a small apartment near the center, and…
— And what about the rest of the money? — Elena’s voice now had a metallic edge.
Here it was. Ekaterina Vasilyevna felt her heart tighten. Was this all her daughter thought about? When had she become like this?
— The rest of the money? — she asked again. — Why does that concern you?
— Mom, don’t pretend you don’t understand! — Elena exploded. — Vlad needs a new car for work. The old one is falling apart. We thought about taking out a loan, but if you’re selling the house…
— So what? — Ekaterina Vasilyevna straightened up in her chair. — Finish your sentence.
— You could help! That’s what! You’re alone anyway, you don’t need much. But we have a family, a child is growing…
Each word hit like a stone. Ekaterina Vasilyevna looked out the window at the swirling leaves, feeling something new and unfamiliar growing inside her. Perhaps it was resentment, or perhaps — freedom.
— You know, Lena, — she spoke in an unexpectedly firm voice, — you’re right. I am alone. And that’s why I can finally think about myself. For the first time in… how long? Forty years? I’ve lived my life for others — for your father, for you. And now I want to live for myself.
— What?! How can you…
— I can, — Ekaterina Vasilyevna answered calmly. — And I will. I’m selling the house, and I’ll spend the money on myself. I’ve long dreamed of traveling, you know. Your father promised it, but we never had the chance…
Something crashed on the other end of the line — apparently, Elena slammed her hand on the table in anger.
— So, that’s it? — she hissed. — She plans to travel! You should be in a grave, not running around the resorts! Selfish bitch!
Ekaterina Vasilyevna flinched, but her voice didn’t tremble:
— Yes, darling. A selfish bitch. Finally.
The sound of the receiver slamming down pierced her ears. Ekaterina Vasilyevna slowly put the phone down and leaned back in her chair. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, but there was a slight smile on her lips.
Deep inside, she knew she was doing the right thing. For the first time in her life — absolutely right.
The new apartment greeted Ekaterina Vasilyevna with the smell of fresh paint and silence. Not the oppressive silence of the old house, where every corner screamed of loss, but some… promising silence. The bright studio apartment on the fourth floor felt like a cozy nest as soon as she crossed the threshold.
— So, Katya, how’s it going? — came the cheerful voice of her neighbor, Zoja Petrovna, who had popped in «for a minute» with pie and tea.
— Slowly, Zoenka, — Ekaterina Vasilyevna smiled, taking cups out of the box. — I didn’t bring much, just the essentials. The rest… — she waved her hand, — what’s the point now?
Zoja Petrovna — a woman slightly younger than her, with mischievous sparks in her eyes — settled down at the small kitchen table.
— And how’s your daughter? Did she help with the move?
Ekaterina Vasilyevna froze for a moment, then slowly poured the tea.
— Lena hasn’t come. She’s upset.
— About what? — Zoja was surprised.
— About the fact that I suddenly felt like a person, — Ekaterina Vasilyevna smiled bitterly. — Can you imagine, Zoja, she sent me a text yesterday: «I hope you’re happy. Yanochka is crying, asking to go to grandma’s in the village.» But I invited them! I said, come over, even though the apartment is small, but there’s room for everyone…
— And what?
— Nothing. «There’s nothing for us to do here,» — Ekaterina Vasilyevna quoted. — Just like that.
Zoja shook her head:
— Oh, Katya, Katya… And do you remember how we lived when we were young? I keep wondering: when did we stop enjoying life? When did our children decide that we owe them something?
Ekaterina Vasilyevna thoughtfully stirred the spoon in her cup:
— You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about that too. Maybe we’re to blame? Everything for them, everything for them… But when was it for us? When we’re retired? In a grave?
— Exactly! — Zoja brightened up. — And here’s what I wanted to tell you… There’s a dance group in the Cultural Center. For those… — she winked playfully. — It’s called «Silver Waltz.» Want to come with me?
— What?! — Ekaterina Vasilyevna threw her hands up in surprise. — Dance at my age?
— Why not? We don’t do pirouettes, — Zoja laughed. — Just for the soul. Waltz, tango… And by the way, there are some gentlemen too! — she raised an eyebrow meaningfully.
— Oh, stop it! — Ekaterina Vasilyevna blushed, but her cheeks betrayed her with a rosy glow.
— What’s wrong with that? A widow, all dressed up… — Zoja gave her a scrutinizing look. — By the way, speaking of dressing up. Let’s go shopping? You need something brighter than that funeral wardrobe.
— Zoja!
— What do you mean, Zoja? I’m telling the truth! Enough mourning. It’s time to start living.
Ekaterina Vasilyevna wanted to argue, but suddenly caught her reflection in the window. When had she turned into a typical old woman? This dark, plain robe, this gloomy sweater…
— You know what? — she said firmly. — Let’s go! And let’s go to the dance class too. Petya, by the way, noticed me at a dance…
— Well, that’s great! — Zoja beamed. — First class on Wednesday. But you need… — she hesitated.
— What?
— A dress. A fancy one.
And they both burst into laughter, like young girls. Then came the shopping spree, trying on dresses, and the saleswomen gasping, «Oh, how that color suits you!» And the purchase of a completely unexpected burgundy wine-colored dress.
In the evening, while unpacking her shopping, Ekaterina Vasilyevna caught herself humming a tune from her youth. She approached the mirror and scrutinized her reflection. Yes, the wrinkles hadn’t disappeared. Yes, there was gray in her hair. But her eyes… her eyes had suddenly changed. They were alive.
The phone buzzed— a new message from Elena: «Mom, Vlad and I figured out the car situation. Maybe you could lend us at least half of the amount? We’ll pay it back when we can.»
Ekaterina Vasilyevna looked at the new dress hanging on the hanger, then at her phone. And for the first time in her life, she simply deleted the message without replying.
Then she turned on the music and began to spin around the room in an imaginary waltz.
The cultural center greeted Ekaterina Vasilyevna with the echo of footsteps in the long corridor and the sounds of a waltz coming from the auditorium doors. Her heart pounded loudly— either from excitement or from walking fast.
«Don’t be scared!» Zoia whispered, pushing her friend toward the door. «We’ll make it!»
There were about fifteen people in the hall— women around their age and, indeed, a few men. A thin, gray-haired instructor in an elegant shirt was just demonstrating the basic movements of the waltz.
«Ah, newcomers!» he beamed when he saw them. «My name is Ignat Stepanovich. Come on in, join us!»
Ekaterina Vasilyevna stepped forward uncertainly, adjusting her new dress. «God, what am I doing here?» she thought. But then Ignat Stepanovich took her hand:
«May I invite you to dance? Shall we show the others how it’s done?»
And suddenly… Something clicked inside. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and her body remembered what it seemed to have long forgotten. One-two-three, one-two-three…
«Wonderful!» exclaimed Ignat Stepanovich after their first round. «You’re definitely no beginner at dancing!»
«Once… a long time ago…» she exhaled, feeling her head spin— from the waltz or from the compliment, she wasn’t sure.
«And you said ‘what dancing’!» Zoia winked, clapping her hands.
After the class, when everyone was heading toward the exit, Ignat Stepanovich caught up with them in the corridor:
«Sorry for the curiosity, but what’s your name?»
«Ekaterina… Ekaterina Vasilyevna.»
«Nice to meet you.» He bowed gallantly. «You know, we have a small concert next week. Maybe you…»
«No, no, no!» she waved her hands. «I’ve just started…»
«Don’t be modest,» he smiled. «You have a natural talent. And besides…» he hesitated, «we need good partners for the waltz.»
«Agree to it!» Zoia nudged her in the side. «Otherwise, Nina Pavlovna already has her eye on our Ignat Stepanovich!»
«Zoia!» Ekaterina Vasilyevna blushed.
They all laughed, and somehow it happened that they went to the café «just for tea.» And the tea stretched for two hours because Ignat Stepanovich turned out to be a fantastic storyteller. He had traveled a lot, and just recently returned from Greece…
«Can you imagine, there you can still dance sirtaki right on the waterfront!» he said with sparkling eyes. «And the sunsets… you should have seen those sunsets!»
«I’ll definitely see them,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna blurted out.
«Really?» he looked at her attentively. «Maybe… maybe we can see them together?»
She returned home as if on wings. In her bag was a business card with Ignat Stepanovich’s phone number («Call anytime!»), and in her soul, a remarkably light melody was playing.
As she was opening the door to her apartment, she heard a familiar voice:
«Mom?!»
Elena and Yanochka were standing near the entrance. Her daughter looked at her with poorly hidden surprise:
«Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for an hour! I called, but you didn’t answer…»
«I was at dancing,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna replied simply, walking past them toward the door.
«At what?!» Elena widened her eyes. «Mom, are you out of your mind? You’re sixty-five!»
«Sixty-three, dear. And I feel just fine.»
«Grandma, did you really dance? Like a princess?» Yanochka spoke up.
«Yes, sweetheart. A real waltz!» Ekaterina Vasilyevna winked at her granddaughter. «Want me to teach you?»
«Yes!» the girl jumped up and down.
«Enough with this circus!» Elena snapped. «Mom, we need to talk.»
Once inside the apartment, after sending Yanochka to watch TV, Elena hissed:
«What are you doing? Dancing? Princesses? You… you…»
«Who am I, Lena?» Ekaterina Vasilyevna asked calmly. «An old woman? A wreck?»
«Oh my God, how can you…» Elena flailed her arms. «What will people think?!»
Ekaterina Vasilyevna snorted and suddenly leaned forward. Something in her eyes made her daughter involuntarily take a step back.
«Let me tell you…» her voice dropped low, with a rasp. «You know when you should really be ashamed? Huh? When they discard you as useless just after you’ve crossed sixty. When they turn you into a cash machine— take out the last penny. That’s the thing that should make you burn with shame. As for my dancing…» she knocked her knuckles on the table, «pfft!»
The phone rang, interrupting her monologue. The screen displayed: «Ignat Stepanovich.»
«Who’s this?!» Elena grabbed the phone before her mother could.
«This is my…» Ekaterina Vasilyevna hesitated, «… dance partner.»
Elena’s eyes widened in horror:
«Don’t tell me you…»
«What do you mean?» Ekaterina Vasilyevna asked calmly, taking the phone back. «That I’m living? That I’m enjoying life? That maybe… I’ve even fallen in love?»
«Oh God…» Elena collapsed into a chair. «You’ve gone crazy. Completely crazy!»
«No, dear. For the first time in many years, I’m actually in my right mind.»
The phone kept ringing. Ekaterina Vasilyevna decisively pressed «Answer»:
«Yes, Ignat Stepanovich! Of course, I remember about tomorrow’s rehearsal. I’ll definitely be there!»
Then, hiding the phone in her pocket, she turned to her daughter:
«And you know what? I’m really going to Greece. To watch the sunsets.»
Three months passed. Ekaterina Vasilyevna stood at the window of her small apartment, looking at the ring on her fourth finger. Simple, silver— Ignat had given it to her before leaving for Greece. «A proposal of marriage at our age— it’s absurd,» he had said then. «But I want you to know: I’m serious about my intentions.»
The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Elena stood at the doorstep— unusually quiet, a little confused.
«Can I come in?»
Ekaterina Vasilyevna silently stepped aside. Her daughter went to the kitchen, sat at the table— still in silence. A heavy pause hung in the air.
«Yanochka keeps asking when Grandma will teach her to dance,» Elena finally spoke, staring out the window. «Every day, she asks.»
«You could have brought her over,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna replied calmly, setting the kettle on.
«Mom…» Elena hesitated. «I saw on TV yesterday. They showed your concert at the cultural center.»
«And how did it look?»
«You… you looked beautiful. In that dress. And you danced…» she paused again. «I didn’t know you could dance like that.»
Ekaterina Vasilyevna smiled:
«There’s a lot you didn’t know about me, dear. And didn’t want to know.»
«Mom…»
«What?»
«Is it true that you’re going to Greece?»
«It’s true.»
Elena lifted her head:
«Forever?»
«No,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna sat across from her daughter. «For three months. Ignat rented a house there, by the sea. He says the velvet season will begin soon…»
«And after that?»
«Then I’ll come back. This is my home, my granddaughter is here…» she paused. «And a daughter who, I hope, will finally understand that her mother is a person too. With her dreams, desires, and the right to be happy.»
Suddenly, Elena sniffled:
«I’m such a fool, Mom! Such a fool! I only thought about money, about that damn car… And you… you just wanted to live, didn’t you?»
«Just live,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna nodded. «Not survive, not exist— but live.»
«You know…» Elena wiped away her tears. «Vlad and I decided to take out a loan for the car. We’ll manage on our own.»
«That’s right,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna smiled. «It’s more reliable to do it on your own.»
«And you… you…» Elena hesitated. «Bring me something from Greece? Even just a fridge magnet?»
They both laughed— for the first time in many months, they laughed together.
«I’ll bring it,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna promised. «And I’ll bring you a dress. So you can go dance too.»
«Ah, what dancing…»
They laughed again. Then they drank tea with lemon, and Elena talked about Yanochka’s successes at school.
Before leaving, Elena suddenly hugged her mother— tightly, like when she was a child:
«Forgive me, Mom. Forgive me for everything. And… be happy, okay?»
«Definitely, dear. Now— definitely.»
In the evening, Zoia called:
«Well, packing your suitcase?»
«Suits? What suitcase… I’m picking out dresses,» Ekaterina Vasilyevna laughed. «Ignat says the sunsets there are amazing…»
«Ah, I envy you!» Zoia sighed.
«You know, Zoia… I realized something important.»
«What?»
«Life is like a dance. It doesn’t matter how old you are. What matters is that the music is playing, and you can still twirl in this waltz.»
The sunset painted the sky in soft pink hues. Somewhere, thousands of kilometers away, on the Greek coastline, the same sun was sinking into the sea. Ekaterina Vasilyevna smiled at her reflection in the glass.
No, she wasn’t supposed to help her daughter— she was supposed to help herself. And she did.
Outside, the autumn leaves danced in the wind— just like the day she decided to make a change. But now, they didn’t seem sad. Now it was a dance. Her dance. Her life.
And it was just beginning.
