“— Well… and when were you planning to tell me everything?” The son stared at the stunned Natasha with hatred in his eyes.
“Gleb, baby, what is it? What happened?”
“I know everything… Mo-ther.”
He practically spat the last word into his mother’s face.
“Well then tell me, I’d like to know too,” Natasha tried to turn it into a joke and stepped closer to hug her son.
But the boy recoiled from her as if she were contagious or might hurt her own child. “Glebusha, sweetie, what happened?”
“Go away, I can’t stand the sight of you,” the boy quickly took off his things and went into his room.
No matter how hard Natalya tried, she couldn’t get through to her son; he wouldn’t open the door, and it seemed to Natalya that he was crying.
“God, at least explain—what exactly are you accusing me of, for heaven’s sake? Gleb! What kind of prim-damsel behavior is this? I thought my son was an honest, grown person…”
“Yeah?” The door flew open. Her son stood there red-faced and disheveled. “I thought my… mother was honest and… and… loved me, but you…”
The word “mother” cut Natasha to the quick; in fourteen years her son had never called her that even once—and now this… It hurt—hurt and stung…
But Natalya pulled herself together; after all, of the two of them, she was the adult.
“Even so… try to explain.”
“I know everything, I… I… Dad told me everything.”
“Ah, so that’s which way the wind is blowing. Well, well—and what exactly did your father tell you?”
“Everything… how you dumped me at an orphanage, and everything… everything—got it?”
“Got it. Why not…”
“And?—” Her son looked at Natasha, suddenly unsure. “You’re not even… going to defend yourself?”
“Me? No. I’ve got nothing to defend. You know, maybe you’re right: I’m a good-for-nothing mother… I think you’ll be better off with your dad. I’ll tell you a few things now… and then… then I’ll help you pack your things myself and send you off to your newly found kind, good, beloved daddy.
“And I, as a bad mother, will go live for my own pleasure.”
Her son was silent and stared at his mother…
For some time now, ever since Gleb’s father reappeared in their lives, Natasha had been living on a powder keg.
The ex-husband had suddenly decided to be in touch with his son, and Gleb had become unrecognizable.
“Where to begin… Sit down, son, you can’t tell this in a couple of words…”
“I don’t want to hear anything. You… you’re vile.”
“No… you’re going to have to listen to me, son. Sit down, I said. You’re still too young to throw accusations in my face.
“You’ve heard your father’s version—I don’t know what he filled your head with; now listen to mine.
“I was born, apparently, into a decent family, nothing foretold any of this—but my parents split up.
“Dad found a new love, and I still don’t speak to him.
“And my mother… well, Mom set out to prove to Dad and everyone around that she was still ‘quite something,’ a real queen.
“I started getting new ‘dads,’ one after another, and my mother began to slide downhill.
“I learned about adult life early—everything a normal child shouldn’t have to know.
“In the end I wound up in an orphanage.
“I had grandparents, uncles, aunts—but… I still ended up in an orphanage.
“Mother swore to me she’d stop drinking, get her act together, and take me home.
“She kept her promise—she even took me back—but I left on my own, back to the orphanage. May I not say why?
“I’ve tried to forget it. Since then I haven’t spoken to any relatives—you know that yourself; it’s always been just the two of us.
“I don’t suffer from it; I just live.
“So, yes, I asked to go back… They took me. Grandma Katya—you do know she isn’t your real grandmother?”
Gleb nodded, and Natasha went on.
“She worked there, and she was shocked that a thirteen-year-old girl came back on her own. She talked to me; I told her everything. That’s how I landed in the orphanage a second time, and this time until graduation.
“My mother never came—not once. She had her own good family. She’d ‘suffered enough,’ she said, and I was a reminder of her old life—and… well, never mind.
“Anyway, thanks to Grandma Katya—Ekaterina Fyodorovna—I finished school, with top marks, by the way. I got into university, met your father. I was in my final year and working as a waitress—you understand, there was no one to support me.
“I lived in a dorm.
“To your real grandmother—your father’s mother—a drifter like me was no use; that’s what she called me when I said I’d spent two years in an orphanage.
“But we married, and you were born. And then, when you were six months old, your dad got tired of being a husband and said he was leaving—he’d met someone else; actually, I was the one who had to go.
“Go where?
“No one cared. ‘Just leave—and take your son.’
“Then my mother-in-law graciously allowed me to stay—for two weeks—while her darling son went on vacation with his beloved girlfriend.
“At the time I thought she was so kind and good, that she pitied me and showed me affection.
“But no one pitied me…
“I ran all over the city looking for work—but who would hire an inexperienced young specialist with a baby in her arms?
“I went back to my waitress job, but the manager forbade me to come with a child—that is, with you.
“I begged my mother-in-law to let me leave my son—you—with her during my shifts, but I was driven out.
“I suppose your daddy has already introduced you to your beloved granny?
“She’s probably shed a whole bucket of tears seeing her precious grandson, forgetting how she promised to toss that same grandson out into the stairwell if I didn’t clear out before her darling boy—your daddy—came back, Glebusha.
“I went to drown myself with you in my arms—what else was there to do?
“I thought I’d take the sin on my soul in one stroke; I’d answer for it, and my innocent little angel would go straight to heaven—that’s how I thought then.
“I’m standing on the bridge; the water’s gray, cold. You had gone quiet; I was holding you close. Then a homeless man comes by, grabs my hand and says, ‘Don’t do anything stupid, girl—there’s no such thing as a hopeless situation…’
“I seemed to wake up. I went to the park, sat on a bench with you, and suddenly my head started working clearly.
“I looked at my little sunshine and thought—what kind of egotist am I? Poor me, nobody loves me—boo-hoo. And my son? My little boy—for him I’m the whole universe.
“Once I thought that, a plan came together at once. I went to Aunt Katya—she was a mother to many of us. No, she wasn’t some sentimental softie. She was special—if she took something on, she wouldn’t drop it.
“I told her everything, and she agreed to help place you in the orphanage.
“Whenever I had a free minute, I ran to you; they couldn’t pry us apart, we clung to each other. You seemed to understand. I cried and begged your forgiveness, asked you to hold on.
“‘Mama will come back,’ I whispered to you.
“I worked two jobs. Then a girl I worked with said you could make a lot of money picking berries; she was planning to go—to another country.
“I hesitated… but I had nothing to lose, and Aunt Katya supported me; she said she’d heard of it too—her neighbor had earned enough for her son’s wedding, even bought him a car, and almost saved for an apartment. So I went.
“Three years—long, three years—I was a slave. I made it through.
“We made it through.
“After that I took you with me—the boss allowed it; you probably don’t remember…
“We earned enough for an apartment—for our own apartment.
“When we came back home, Aunt Katya welcomed us like family. We stayed with her for two weeks, quickly found a place—‘we,’ because we were together, always. You and me.
“Together.
“Then… I got you into kindergarten. You spoke English quite decently, so it was an English-focused one. And you—what? Did you really believe that was genetics? That you just ‘inherited’ your English? No—I just wasn’t ready to tell you back then, and you were little, so I blurted the first thing that came to mind…
“I found a job in my field, and we lived—didn’t mope. We lived pretty well, didn’t we, son?
“I didn’t remarry so no one would hurt my baby. I could have—I could have had another child—but I was afraid of becoming like my mother…
“She’s alive, by the way, pestering me with her niceties—but to me she’s no one…
“As for your father and his mommy—they’re no one either.
“What does he want? Thinks his unpaid child support will be forgiven if he coos at you? The snake.
“I’ve shown you my other side, haven’t I, son?
“I’ve told you everything—don’t accuse me of what I’m not guilty of.
“According to your beloved granny, I’m a tramp, a beggar. I’m the unloved ex, the bad mother…
“I’m not surprised my son has taken after his father and grandmother. Well then… you’re grown enough, son—only a grown son, a ‘real man,’ can call his mom ‘mother’ and throw accusations in her face.
“I’ve said my piece, son.
“I’ll sit in the kitchen while you pack your things. I’ll call your father,” Natasha said wearily. “I’ll make him happy—his child will live with him now. He’s the good one, after all—he didn’t hand his son over to an orphanage. And what—you didn’t ask Daddy where he was at the time? Ah… to hell with all of you…”
Inside, there was emptiness and savage pain.
Gleb was the only person in her life. No, she wasn’t going to turn into a spiteful shrew and refuse to share her boy with anyone—she wanted to raise her son to be a worthy man, to see him married, to love his wife like a daughter, and to dandle her grandchildren…
Well then.
Natasha trudged listlessly to the kitchen, searching her ex’s number on her phone, tears blurring her eyes.
“Mom, Mommy… don’t. Don’t call. I’m sorry, my dear… Mom… I thought it was just a dream, Mom… I remember, you hear? So many—so many berries… That’s why I don’t eat them, right?”
“Yes,” Natasha said quietly…
They both had a good cry.
“Forgive me, Mom. I’m like this… I can’t forgive myself… When I think about it—my little mom, alone in a big city with a baby in her arms—Forgive me, Mom…”
Natasha held her son—so little and so grown—tight…
That evening she heard Gleb talking to someone on the phone.
“No, I’m sorry. Mom and I have long planned to go to this concert… No, I think Mom will be against it—don’t call her.
“You know, you turned up so suddenly in my life. I am glad, of course, but… Dad… let’s take a pause, okay? I’m sorry… I need to be with Mom, and in general… I’ll call you myself.”
“Son,”—Natasha walked into the room—“maybe don’t be so harsh; he’s still your father… Sorry, I overheard by accident.”
“Mom, I’ll decide this myself, all right?” Gleb said in a serious voice, and then, just like in childhood, gave her kitten eyes and asked her to read him a book.
“About whom?” Natasha laughed. “Tom Thumb?”
“Nah, Mom. We’ve got a tough physics unit—and you explain it so well…”