Masha trudged along the snowclogged path, the drifts swallowing the narrow trail that used to lead to her apartment. You cant help but love your own children, she whispered to herself, but the words felt hollow. Fatigue, anger, a relentless helplessness pressed on her chest.
She remembered the day when Volodya was still alive, her fifth child still a whisper in her belly. From the sixthfloor apartment above, a neighbor certain that Masha had slammed the door shut and couldnt hear her told her husband, People have babies just for the benefits, and the children end up abandoned! Masha sobbed until her breath caught, humiliation flooding her eyes. Yes, she managed to hold down a job while caring for four little ones, but they never truly stayed alone: her mother came when she could, then a nanny was hired. She loved her work and never saw quitting as an option just because the kids were small. When they grow up, what will become of me? she wondered, a question that haunted her after Volodyas death.
When the wages barely covered the essentials, Masha saved every spare ruble in a modest account, refusing to touch her pension. She wanted a safety net for her childrens future, yet being a widow with five kids proved a mountain too steep even for her iron will.
That night the snow fell harder, turning the path into a white wall. She should have parked the car elsewhere, but first she had to haul Egor and Lina, nearly dragging them like sleds to the garden and back again. Staring down at the ground, trying not to step on the sharp crust, Masha didnt see the man coming toward her. They collided; he staggered, she slipped into the drifts. He reached out to help her up, his fingers brushing a bright red heartshaped balloon that slipped from his grasp.
Stupid Valentines Day, Masha muttered under her breath.
Just before midnight she had been stitching her middle daughter Tanyas boots and helping her son Pavlik write a report about the holiday, while soothing her eldest, Vika, who was hysterical over a massive pimple on her forehead. Vika was convinced a boy she liked would bring her a Valentine and ask her out. Meanwhile, the younger children had stolen acrylic markers and turned the white hallway console, the linoleum, and each other into a rainbow of scribbles. The preschool teacher, halfasleep, called them little savages and suggested they clean up with acetone.
The stranger apologized, Im sorry, I didnt see you. Two emotions warred inside Masha: fury that the big man hadnt noticed her, and embarrassment for the balloon hed dropped, surely meant for his beloved. The latter won.
Never mind, its my fault. What a pity the balloon, she said, trying to sound light.
He glanced at the sky. Its fine. Even the birds will celebrate.
Your wife will probably be upset, he added.
For my daughter, he smiled. Ill buy another.
Tears welled up unexpectedly. The man looked bewildered, unsure how to react.
Excuse me, Masha sniffed. I didnt mean to
Its okay Did something happen to you?
Masha rarely complained. She rarely spoke of being a widow with five children, but this stranger was a complete stranger, and she was exhausted.
He listened, then said, You should meet my wife. Shes gone off on her third child, and I keep telling her to take a break. Im not saying having many kids is badactually, Id love a third Im sorry, Im a terrible comforter.
She brushed him off, Fine. I sometimes look at them and think Im supposed to love them endlessly. In reality Im just angry, irritated. Wheres that love? I dont see it.
He answered confidently, Its there. The snow just covered the path, like this trail. Do you know what blooms here in summer?
What?
Dandelions.
Masha sensed his meaning, but the void inside her remained.
He escorted her to the car, wishing her a good day. She sat, fixed her makeup, and drove to work with a weight pressing on her heart. Memories of past Valentines floated uptiny cards tucked under mirrors, flowers left on back seats. Her husband had been gone four years; those holidays always left a ache. And today she faced a meeting where the meddlesome Sergey Petrovich would drone on about his results for half an hour.
The office buzzed with an uneasy liveliness. No one really celebrated the holiday, yet flowers appeared on desks, women whispered and giggled, men wore strained smilesthe usual circus when women expect something special. Masha entered the conference room, halfthinking shed walked into the wrong office, and recoiled when a bouquet of red roses lay on the table. It was her office, after all, and she approached the blooms cautiously, as if inspecting an exotic animal, unsure whether they would scratch or purr.
A card was attached. She lifted it tremblingly.
Id never have the courage, but if not todaymaybe tomorrow? In your eyes I see a universe; my mood depends on your smile. Dinner?
She tried to recall which colleagues name began with L could have penned such a note. The card listed a restaurant and 7 p.m. Leonid? Lyosha? Lev? All three worked there, yet none had ever shown interest. It would have been funny if it were Leonidshe’d once been almost in love with him right before her fifth pregnancy, craving romance while her marriage was crumbling. Hed been friendly, theyd shared a few lunches, even felt a flutter, but when she took a test she realized it was her body protesting another duty. She fell pregnant unexpectedly again, her fertility uncanny. By the time she was expecting another child, Leonid faded from memory, just as Volodya fell ill.
All day Masha wrestled with the idea of a date. She eyed Leonid, Lyosha, Lev, but each behaved normally. Was this some prank? Who would sit with five kids? Her mother, now six, never left home; they couldt afford a nanny; Vika would probably run off to a date herself. So she decided no.
Egor and Lika handed her a crooked heartnow even the kindergarten taught kids to cut out Valentines cards. She packed them into their overalls and trudged to the car, recalling the morning man whod handed her daughter a red balloon. Maybe I could have that too, she thought, tears blurring her vision.
The children squabbled in the back seat over cartoons and demanded a stop for candy bars because today is a holiday. Exhausted by their cries, Masha gave in, buying three hidden bars for the older ones and a pack of dumplings because she had no energy to cook.
When she walked through the front door, the house smelled of fried potatoes and cherry compote. Vika announced that a boy had asked her friend out, so she now had no girlfriend and no boyfriendgood, she said, because the pimple on her forehead had grown even larger. In celebration, she decided to cook dinner. The middle children cleaned up the rooms, scrubbing the markers off the white console. Mashas heart softened; she hugged her kids and finally felt the love shed been denying. It wasnt just because they were wellbehaved now; it was love, plain and simple. She dug out a tiny black dress from the closetone she hadnt worn in agesand, fearing it wouldnt fit, borrowed perfume from the eldest and lip gloss from the middle.
Moms going on a date! Vika shouted, eyes sparkling.
Egor burst into tears, and she soothed him, promising shed be back soon.
At the restaurant Masha arrived trembling, unsure what awaited her. It felt like a secretSanta gift exchangewho would she be giving a present to? Leonid? Even Vasya from supplies? Or, absurdly, the HR director Sergey Petrovich Larin, to whom a bicycle would be the only appropriate gift? She stepped in, ready to turn around, when she saw him: Sergey Petrovich Larin himself, standing tall, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on the doorway. He flushed at the sight of her, but didnt look away.
I was afraid you wouldnt come, he said, his voice low.
They hadnt spoken on a firstname basis before, but the absurdity of the day made Masha accept anything. She followed a waitress to a window table where heartshaped decorations hung from the ceiling. For a split second she thought it was Vika heading out on a date, not her. She wanted to flee, to call her daughter and say the house was on fire.
The conversation stalled. Sergey fidgeted, alternating between talk and silence, his gaze fixed on Masha with such melancholy that she felt pity for him. She wanted to bolt, to eat the crunchy eggplant and cut into a juicy steak, and pray for some calamity to break the tension.
Her phone rang after the third bite of steak. The caller ID showed Vikas name. We need to we need to take the kids, Vikas voice trembled. Mom, theres a fire! Pavlik tried to fry cheese sticks, the oil caught fire
Mashas blood surged, her heart pounding as if it would burst.
What happened? Sergey asked, startled.
Fire she exhaled.
Sergey reacted with surprising calm. One hand pulled a card from his pocket to signal the waiter, the other dialed the fire department, giving her the address while directing the children to put on their shoes and run outside, knocking on neighbors doors, and not to try saving any belongings.
The fire truck arrived fifteen minutes later. Neighbors gathered around crying children as smoke billowed from the apartment window. Masha clutched her kids, whispering, Ill never again say I dont love you. Ill be the best mother I can be. She felt the strange warmth of strangers coats and hats on her childrens shoulders. The world still had kind people, she reminded herself.
The blaze was contained quickly; only the kitchen was damaged, a faint smell of ash lingered. Vika managed to rescue the cat.
Cant stay here tonight, Sergey said. Well need repairs. Why not come to my place?
What what does that mean? Masha asked, fear flickering in her eyes.
Sergey looked directly at her. Whatever you want. You can just visit, or stay for good.
The children stared at him, suddenly aware of his presence. Egor wailed, Pavlik scowled, Lika asked if there were cartoons.
Yes, we have cartoons, Sergey promised. And a cat and a dog. So, shall we go?
What kind of dog? Pavlik asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Just like Volodya, Masha thought, a tenderness softening her tone.
A beagle, Sergey replied, and Masha realized Pavliks last requesthed been begging for that very dog all yearwas being fulfilled.
Vika, assessing the situation, said, Ill get our things. Egor, stop crying. Lets pack the toys.
Masha watched her daughter, gratitude swelling, and the girl gave her a playful wink. How fast she was growing! Pavlik would never see her like this again
Alright, Masha said. Well spend the night here, thank you. Tomorrow Ill figure something out.
Mom, look! Tanya shouted, pointing to the sky where a red heartshaped balloon drifted lazily. Masha smiled, replying, Even the birds are celebrating.
Sergey slipped his hand gently into hers. His palm was warm, unfamiliar, comforting. Masha didnt rush to leave; she lingered, feeling, for the first time in years, a flicker of hope.