“Ester, congratulations!” Valentina Pavlovna shouted. “Congratulations, my dear! Well done! We’re proud of you.”
“Just look at her,” Dora said in a singsong voice. She had a mild Greek accent and pronounced every word very clearly.
“Not a peep comes out of you at home even when it would be good to make a fuss. And you’re quite a trooper at work. You really are something, after all.”
The people who stood around her laughed, and Dora stared at Father through the thick lenses of her glasses. Dora was a straightforward woman, and she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself. She respected Mama, and she obviously had little liking for Father. Father pretended that he hadn’t heard anything, and he moved away a bit.
“Come join us!” Dora shouted. “We can’t hug you when you’re not here.”
Mama laughed. No, she didn’t just laugh, she burst out laughing loudly and happily. We didn’t hear such merry laughter often.
“Just a minute. I’ll change.”
She took off her apron and ran to the bedroom. Emma darted after her. In a few minutes, they both entered the hallway. Mama was wearing her favorite crêpe de Chine light-blue dress with a floral pattern, which was very becoming on her. I noticed that Mama had put on some lipstick, something she very rarely did.
As we were about to go outside, the door opened, and Father burst into the apartment. He must have come to escort Mama. He cast his eyes over her and exclaimed:
“What about the order? Where is it?”
“It’s here,” Mama pointed to Emma.
My sister beamed. The order was pinned to her short dress like a brooch.
“How… and you…” Father lost ability to speak and leaned against the doorframe.
“I can do without it.”
The earrings swayed slightly in her ears. It seemed to me that they were not just shimmering as usual but shining like phosphorus in the dark, charged by the sun for a day.
Chapter 43. The Officer’s Son
Winter arrived unexpectedly. It was very snowy. Standing at the entrance, we looked at the snowfall in shock. The sky messengers were fluffy, light and small, but there were billions of them, billions and billions, and they were flying and flying, falling and falling and covering everything around with a white carpet.
As I was looking at the snowflakes that flashed by my eyes, at that endless flow streaming from the sky, I was overwhelmed with a strange sensation. I felt as if I were seeing it for the first time in my life, as if someone had bewitched me, lulling me to sleep. Everything seemed so unusual and mysterious in that silent white swarm… Hey, who was rushing there from the kingdom of cold and darkness? It was she, the Snow Queen. There was her carriage rushing along… A white figure was seen moving in it… Her icy glance sparkled… She smiled, beckoning with her hand… Oh, no… I shook my head, and the Queen disappeared. And again, there were my friends, my street covered with snow. I caught snowflakes with my tongue. They melted right away, their cold touch barely felt.
Edem caught snowflakes in his palm and tried to study them.
“They say there are a hundred types of flakes, and each has its own shape,” he mumbled.
“Fat chance of seeing that, perhaps only under a microscope,” Kolya sighed.
At that very second, a snowball whistled by in the air and knocked off Kolya’s cap with earflaps. Vova Oparin was coming our way from the neighboring entrance.
“Cut the crap! Let’s go to the hill!” he commanded merrily.
The hill, our winter recreation place, was behind October Movie Theater, a five-minute walk from our buildings, which were at the foot of the hill, with the movie theater at the top. So, when we walked home from the bus stop, we went down the steps of that hill.
Now, to get there we walked up the hill. I took a sled, which glided smoothly on the snow that continued to fall. The sun looked like a dull disk through its shroud. The weather was great. Kir-rk, kir-rk creaked under our feet. “Fyu-to-too, fyu!” Vova Oparin whistled, walking with measured tread on the snow. We followed him, taking rapid, precise strides, like soldiers in formation.
The hill welcomed us with squeals, laughter and shouts. It seemed that children from all over the neighborhood had gathered here. It couldn’t be a better day for sliding downhill whether on a sled, skates or just feet. Admirers of those types of sliding had pressed the surface of the hill smooth by the time we arrived. Boys, some on skates, others with just their kirza (rough leather) boots on, were sliding down those tracks. Those boots – I didn’t know whether they were really made of kirza – were our favorite winter footwear. Their soles glided on the ice just as well as skates; they also glided on well-trampled snow. Sliding downhill in them was quite an experience. Black and shiny with high tops, they were every boy’s dream. They were seldom delivered to stores, and parents weren’t too willing to buy them for their sons – it was dangerous footwear, and their sons could be expected to either fracture a leg or injure themselves in some other way on the hill at some point. Vova Oparin obviously wore kirza boots. I was lucky; thanks to a very snowy winter, Father had bought me a pair.
I gave my sled to some kids I knew. We went up to the movie theater and lined up at the top of the ice track.
It would be a big exaggeration to call the track even and comfortable for sliding. It was a natural track with lots of small dents, holes and knolls. Each of us got down the track any way he could. The most athletic and adroit of us organized contests – who could slide faster, more elegantly, with more intricate tricks. Each one demonstrated his claim at the start – a regular beginning of a slide after running at top speed.
Edem was the first to begin. He ran before sliding down, not too fast, for the first slide was a trial run. One needed to feel the icy surface, to make contact with it. It was your fault if you failed to do so and fell down. It meant you hadn’t reacted quickly, missed the right moment. That’s what happened to Edem. He stumbled on the steepest spot and rolled down head over heels. No one uttered a sarcastic remark nor even giggled. It was the first slide; it was excusable.
I was the second. I ran at top speed, touched the ice with my right foot, and my boots began to sing. I bent down, then squatted, trying to keep my balance. Now I was thrown up on uneven ice, now I skidded at turns. My feet were positioned at different levels, so my legs weren’t flexing simultaneously, and it was hard to control each of them in a different way at the same time. A hole… a knoll… another one… My left leg suddenly went up and my knee hit me hard in the chest, taking my breath away. I swayed but, spreading my arms wide, I managed to straighten up. Well done, arms. Thank you for helping me out. But at the end of the track I skidded again and began to spin. I thought I would fall down, but I didn’t, and I didn’t get snow in my mouth.
Only after I finished the slide did I feel how tense my legs were. I hadn’t exercised for a long time. It was all right; they would be back to normal soon.
Oparin approached the start and rushed down the hill.
Vova was a fearless person; he didn’t recognize trial slides. He made a long fast run, then a long jump that carried him to the icy track. He landed on the track with both feet. It seemed that he wasn’t sliding but flying like a projectile. Everybody on the hill stood still watching his run. Boys crowded at the top of the hill and stopped in their tracks. It grew quieter. Something like that was not often seen on our hill.
Vova bent down over holes, jumped high over knolls, and showed off, now spreading his legs, now drawing them up. His cheeks were flushed, vapor streamed from his mouth… Any girl would admire him.
Here he was at the end of the track. He squatted and spread his arms to begin his usual trick, a full turn while jumping. His feet left the ice… and at that moment, a snowball thrown from afar hit him in the face. That icy snowball hit Vova so hard that he fell down like a bird shot on the wing. He crumpled. It was clear that his fall was hard, that he had hurt himself badly. Edem and I rushed to help him onto his feet.