“You’re no longer my daughter. No one knows who he is or where he came from. I’m ashamed of you. Move into your grandmother’s hut and live like an adult. Feel the responsibility for your actions.”
“Olya, did you hear? They sent people here on a business trip to help ours. Let’s go to the club tonight?” Masha, pleased with herself, sprawled in the armchair.
“Mash, what are you talking about? And who will I leave Vovka with? Take him with me?” Olga laughed.
“What if we ask Aunt Lyuba?” Masha suggested cautiously.
Olya waved hopelessly.
“Oh, come on. She still can’t forgive me for having my son. What did she want? To marry me off to Andrey, and I went to the city to apply to college. I didn’t get in, but I came back pregnant. She was angry for a whole year and only started talking to me two months ago. So go with someone else. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find yourself a match.”
Masha sighed.
“Alright, I’ll go with Tanya. And tomorrow I’ll tell you absolutely everything.”
Olga put her son to bed and stepped out onto the porch. The thump of music carried to her house. Wrapping herself in a headscarf, she imagined everyone dancing and having fun. Mashka had surely put on her “tiger” dress again. Olya smiled quietly— in it she looked like a fuzzy caterpillar. She sighed wistfully and went to sleep.
At dawn Masha came rushing in. And as luck would have it, Olya’s mother had also dropped by. Olya pressed a finger to her lips, but there was no stopping Masha.
“Too bad you weren’t there yesterday! The guys were something else. One even walked me home—Vovka’s his name. So chatty, with a sense of humor. And I’m going on a date today,” Masha blurted out in one breath.
Olya’s mother asked disapprovingly:
“Married, I suppose?”
Masha shrugged.
“I don’t know, I didn’t look at his passport. And even if he is—at least I’ll have something to remember.”
“Ah, girls, what are you doing? Look at Andrey—why isn’t he husband material? Well, mine has already missed her happiness, but you, Masha, could still turn his head,” Aunt Lyuba said, getting carried away with the idea.
“Oh, Aunt Lyuba, what are you saying! Who needs him? And his mother thrown in, too. God spare us from that kind of ‘happiness’!” Masha exclaimed.
She turned to Olya:
“There was this one guy—you couldn’t take your eyes off him. All our girls were stunned. He stood with his friends and left alone. Didn’t invite anyone to dance.”
And then the unbelievable happened. Aunt Lyuba said thoughtfully:
“You should go to the club too, Olya. I’ll sit with Vovka. Maybe you’ll meet someone—serious and reliable. Vovka needs a father. Just don’t pick married ones. They can sniff out when a woman’s alone. Got it?”
Hardly believing her luck, Olya nodded. She couldn’t help it—she showered her mother with kisses. Her mother grumbled:
“Go on then, you suck-up.”
In her best dress Olya stood with her friends, chatting merrily. How she’d missed carefree fun.
“Look. It’s him. He came again,” the girls whispered.
Olya glanced his way with curiosity, and her knees went weak. She turned sharply and whispered to Masha:
“I should probably go home. Vovka’s crying without me.”
Masha was surprised.
“Oly, what’s with you? First time you’ve gotten out of the house and you’re already running? You haven’t danced even once!”
But Olya said firmly:
“I’m off. And it looks like your Vovka is coming over to you. You won’t be bored without me.” She headed for the exit.
At the door someone unexpectedly took her by the hand:
“Dance with me, miss?”
Without looking, Olya tried to pull away:
“I don’t dance.”
But the gentleman was persistent.
“Give me one dance, please.”
She finally turned—and her heart skipped a beat. It was him. The very guy whose chance meeting had changed her life forever. And judging by everything, he didn’t recognize her. A little weight lifted from her heart, and she smiled:
“Alright. Just once—I’m in a hurry.”
He swept her into the dance.
“I get it—your husband must be worried?”
“I’m not married,” Olya answered coolly.
He winked in a way so familiar it took her breath away.
“So I’ve got a chance?” he asked slyly.
Olya pulled back.
“Don’t even dream of it.” And she ran out of the club.
She cried on the way home. She had remembered him all her life—one could say she fell in love at once—and he didn’t recognize her.
They had met back then on the train. She was heading home upset after failing her entrance exams. He was going to visit his parents. Seeing that Olya was sad, he tried to cheer her up.
“My name’s Maksim. My mom calls me Maksik, my nephew calls me Masik. Choose whichever you like.”
Olya smiled.
“Masik is funnier.”
He held out his hand.
“Well, that’s almost an introduction. And what are you called, fair creature?”
“Olya.”
Maksim nodded seriously:
“I thought so. A royal name.”
One word led to another, and she told him she’d flunked her university exams—and that her mother would remind her of it for years.
“Then study over the winter and try again,” Maksim advised.
Olya brightened:
“You’re right! I didn’t even think of that. Thank you.”
He looked at her thoughtfully:
“Don’t mention it. Has no one told you you’re very beautiful?”
Olya blushed.
“I’m ordinary—don’t exaggerate. But thanks anyway.”
Maksim leaned closer.
“But it’s true.” And he suddenly kissed her. Olya’s head spun. What happened after was both shameful and sweet. Maksim got off earlier.
“I’ll definitely find you.”
Only later did Olya realize bitterly that he hadn’t even asked for her address.
And then it turned out she was expecting a child, and her mother said with contempt:
“You’re no longer my daughter. No one knows who he is or where he came from. I’m ashamed of you. Move to…”
