She had to grow up early — at twelve years, six months, and three days. Not on the day her mother died, but earlier: her mother was hospitalized, and her father said that Yana was now the eldest. That she must take her brothers to kindergarten, pick them up, cook lunch, and generally do everything her mother used to do. Yana, who had always obeyed her parents without question, did exactly that.
The next day, the brothers didn’t have any clean tights. That’s how she learned to do laundry. She used to buy bread and milk already, but now she also learned to buy other things: eggs, sausages, pasta, and potatoes—something had to be eaten. Her father came home late, went straight to bed, and left in the morning before Yana and the boys got up. While her mother was alive, he spent weekends at the hospital, and after she passed away, he took to going fishing. Yana also had to learn to clean and fry fish herself, though Aunt Olya helped her a little at first.
Aunt Olya was her mother’s best friend. When her mother was hospitalized, she started coming in the evenings, bringing cutlets in a thermos, potato pies, and other homemade food the boys hardly ate, but Yana devoured greedily, not forgetting to save some for her father.
“How I will miss her,” Aunt Olya said once, and Yana noticed her eyes were wet.
“She’s crying, maybe,” Yana thought. “Strange.”
When her mother was gone, Yana guessed that Aunt Olya had known in advance; they and the boys were never told. Yana actually thought her mother was pregnant again since she often went to the hospital when expecting the boys.
“You must be so sad,” Aunt Olya said when she came after the funeral.
Yana didn’t understand her. She wasn’t sad; it felt normal. She felt nothing. But she nodded anyway, just in case.
Actually, Yana liked it when Aunt Olya came: the boys fussed less, her father laughed again, and the home seemed brighter. But one day, when Aunt Olya brought Yana a gift—a lamp shaped like Master Yoda—and her father tried to plug it in, the power went out in the apartment. Aunt Olya and her father argued. Yana never understood what happened: her father told everyone to stay put and went to check the meter in the stairwell. Aunt Olya went with him. The power came back on, and they returned but never spoke to each other again. Not that evening, nor later. She stopped visiting altogether, and when Yana called to ask when she would come, Aunt Olya replied:
“Probably never. Sorry, kid, but it’s better this way.”
Over those years, Yana learned many things: to sew socks, glue and make crafts, buy new shoes, pay the rent, even fix a bicycle. Her father was kind of there, but kind of not: after the funeral, he seemed to disappear himself, only a shell left behind. Yana wasn’t sure he even knew what grade his children were in. At least when she once mentioned applying to university, he was genuinely surprised.
“When are you going to apply?”
“This year, Dad! Have you completely forgotten?”
“I forgot,” he admitted.
Yana didn’t know what to do about applying. As an Olympiad winner, she was accepted to her dream university—ITMO. She had learned about it from Volodya Smirnov, who got in a year ago by competition. They dated until he left, but before his departure, Yana told him she was releasing him from any obligations—there were interesting girls from St. Petersburg, unlike her, a silly girl from the provinces. He resisted a bit but agreed in the end. Still, during the holidays, he invited her out and even held her hand.
“Do you have anyone?” she asked shyly.
Volodya shrugged.
“No, not really.”
That gave Yana hope. That’s partly why she entered that Olympiad—hoping to win. And she did. For him. And now it didn’t matter how she did on the Unified State Exam; she would be accepted anyway. But only now did Yana realize: how would she leave? Who would look after the boys? If only Dad would remarry… But Yana hadn’t seen any women near him, though she wouldn’t mind—stepmother or not, at least there’d be another woman managing the house. Then Yana would have the right to leave. She could leave anyway, of course, but she had to discuss it with Dad. But no matter how hard she tried to talk to him about it, she couldn’t.
Her birthday fell on a Sunday, and Yana baked a cake—not for herself, but to cheer up the boys. Her father looked at the candles in surprise.
“Really eighteen, huh?”
“Really.”
“All grown up.”
“I’ve been grown up for a long time, Dad. You know, I wanted to ask you something…”
And then the phone rang. Yana grabbed it, hoping it was Volodya, but the number was unknown.
“Happy birthday, my girl!” she heard a gentle female voice and for a moment even thought it was her mother.
“Thank you,” she said uncertainly.
“Didn’t recognize me? It’s me, Aunt Olya.”
Yana invited her to come, but she refused. Apparently, she was still upset with her father.
“Let’s better meet in a cafe.”
Yana didn’t tell her father about it, lied that it was a girlfriend.
Aunt Olya gave her a beautiful necklace with a pendant—Yana had never had jewelry like that before. They chatted for a whole hour: Aunt Olya asked about her father, the boys, and Yana’s university plans.
“You’re going to St. Petersburg? Your mother always dreamed of living there.”
Yana hadn’t known that…
“I haven’t decided yet if I’ll go,” Yana said doubtfully. “How are you doing?”
“Nothing new… Just work.”
“And children?”
“I don’t have children,” Aunt Olya laughed. “Probably too late now.”
Yana enjoyed talking with her; for the first time in a long while, someone truly listened. She showed Aunt Olya photos of the boys; she was surprised at how much they had grown.
“Come visit us sometime.”
“I’ll think about it…”
For some reason, Yana felt that “I’ll think about it” meant “No.”
They met a few more times—always in cafes, just as Yana guessed, Aunt Olya didn’t come to their home. They talked about everything, and Yana even told her about Volodya.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Aunt Olya was glad. “Is he a good boy?”
“Yes, good…”
If it weren’t for Aunt Olya, Yana wouldn’t have been able to pick a dress for graduation—all the dresses looked so similar and expensive!
“Don’t look at the price,” Aunt Olya said. “We’ll pick the very best now!”
The dress really was gorgeous. But when Yana found out how much it cost, she was scared.
“Oh, Aunt Olya, it’s expensive!”
“Not more than money. Wear it in good health.”
“All right. But only if you come to the graduation.”
Aunt Olya hesitated.
“I don’t know…”
“Because of Dad, right? Why did you argue?”
“We didn’t argue, everything’s fine. I’ll come.”
And she came. She and Dad only said hello, and Yana feared she had invited her in vain: there would be awkwardness all evening. But later, when the adults drank a glass of champagne, her father’s ears turned red, and Aunt Olya’s eyes sparkled, and Yana saw they were talking about something. Then later, they even went dancing to some old song: now it’s fashionable to play music from the ’90s. Yana watched them and smiled: how good it would be if they didn’t quarrel!
“So where have you decided to apply?” Aunt Olya asked the next week.
“I’ll stay here,” Yana said, looking away. “It will be hard to study there; I didn’t do well on the exam.”
“What about your Volodya?”
“He’s not mine! He has another girl; I saw his photos on VKontakte.”
Volodya really posted a photo with a pretty brunette.
“Well, that’s fine, you’ll find someone new! Yana, what are you doing? What do you have to do here? Your mother would never have allowed this!”
Yana still looked away and was silent.
“Do you think they can’t manage without you?” Aunt Olya guessed. “Yana, you have to live your own life. No one will thank you later.”
“It’s not that…”
“Don’t lie! You’ll regret it later, remember my words! Do as your heart tells you and don’t listen to anyone.”
Yana thought about these words all evening. And she told her father.
“Dad… What if I go to study in Petersburg?”
“To Petersburg? Where did you get that idea? Ah… Olga has been messing with your head, hasn’t she?”
Yana felt sorry for Aunt Olya and said,
“What does Aunt Olya have to do with it? I want it myself. And enough! You took away my childhood; I was both mother and father to the boys. Why are you looking at me like that? Work and fishing, but what about us? Did you ever think about us?”
The boys fell silent, frightened. Dad drilled her with his gaze. Yana herself was scared of her own words.
Then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll open it,” the boys said in unison and ran off.
Yana stood opposite her father and was silent. She expected him to start scolding, but suddenly he shrank as if he got smaller. The boys cheered happily, and a few seconds later Aunt Olya appeared in the room. Her father’s ears were red, although he hadn’t drunk champagne.
“Did you persuade Yana to go to Petersburg?” her father accused Aunt Olya.
“And did you decide to keep her as your servant all her life?” she retorted. “Katya would never forgive you for this!”
“Don’t talk to me about Katya! She kept going on: Katya, Katya… We have to think about the living, not the dead!”
“I am thinking about the living. You’re not!”
“Am I? Then who told me: for her memory, it’s not worth it, it’s unfair what people will say…”
Her father stopped and was silent, meeting Yana’s eyes. She couldn’t understand what he meant.
“So what if you said that! You could have called me once! Tried to convince me. But you immediately ran away!”
“I ran away? I wrote you a letter, and you didn’t reply!”
Aunt Olya’s anger vanished all at once like air from a popped balloon. She sat on the couch and quietly asked,
“What letter?”
Only then did something start to sink in for Yana.
“Boys,” she said. “Let’s go to the store; we need something for tea. We have nothing for tea.”
They resisted a little but finally agreed when Yana promised to buy them ice cream.
A warm summer wind pleasantly blew on her flushed face. The boys were chatting, and Yana walked easily along the sidewalk. For some reason, she felt happy inside.
“Let’s go to the farthest store,” she suggested. “I really want to take a walk this beautiful evening!”
And she thought to herself: they have a lot to talk about…
