Chapter Text
When Valeriya is ten years old, her Dedushka dies. Everyone around her is very serious, but they don’t necessarily seem sad. Her mom helps her straighten her hair, lays out a new dress for her to wear, and reminds her that she will need to be perfectly behaved when the guests get there.
At the funeral, she catches her father yelling at her Dyadya Ilya. She’s never known Ilya very well, but she thinks maybe he’s famous in America. She also thinks maybe that he paid for all of this – she knows he bought this dress for her, and that he was sending money to papa when dedushka was sick. Nobody will talk to her about these things, of course, but she has ears and she pays attention and honestly, she’s big enough now to understand so she’s not sure why it’s a secret.
Ilya looks much sadder when he’s getting ready to leave than he did at the funeral itself. On his last day in Moscow, he squats down to her level and speaks to her for the first time in years.
“Be good for your mother, Lerochka. And your father– don’t let him forget how lucky he is to have you.”
She wrinkles her nose at the nickname, one she hasn’t heard used since she was quite little. Ilya isn’t really making any sense, but she nods along anyway. Ilya’s friend, who her mama always makes her call Miss Vetrova, brushes a hand across her shoulder on the way out too.
“Your hair is very pretty, Valera. But I know you have curls just like your Babushka. When I come back in a few months, maybe you and I can go to the store and get some products to make them stay longer.”
Valeriya thinks Miss Vetrova’s hair is much prettier than her own, and Miss Vetrova always smells so nice and wears such beautiful clothes. It doesn’t seem possible that she could look like that too, but she preens a little anyway and smiles and nods her head with a muttered thank you.
After everyone leaves, Valeriya feels very alone, even though everything is back to normal now. Her father looks at her with vacant eyes, and her mother tells her to keep her hair straight until she absolutely has to wash it.
–
A few months after Valeriya’s eleventh birthday, she gets a package and a visit from her Tyotya Svetlana. Her mother frowns in disapproval at the familiar form of address, but Svetlana has started insisting on the informality.
“I spend so much time in Boston, I’m getting used to all of the Americans calling me by my name like that. And besides, Valera and I are going to be very good friends, right?” She hugs one long, slender arm around Valeriya’s shoulders, and Valeriya thinks she smells like a very fancy candle.
They go to the mall together, and Svetlana buys her a cream and a comb for her hair and explains how she can take care of her curls. At some point, Valeriya is turned loose in the candy store with some cash while Svetlana goes to the shop next door.
When they get back to Valeriya’s home, Svetlana stops her before they go back inside.
“I have one more thing for you, Valera, but you have to keep it a secret, ok?” She pulls out a brown cardboard shoebox from one of her big shopping bags, shaking it lightly.
“Open this one when you get back inside your room, and use it whenever you need to. I mean it, whenever.”
Mama has a pinched face when they go inside, but she motions for Valeriya to try on her new shoes and show them off anyway. Valeriya dashes into her room, opens the shoebox quickly, and sees–
Well, she sees a beautiful pair of shoes. They’re shiny black patent leather, with soft looking black velvet bows on the top. They’re a little pointy at the front, and they even have a little bit of a block heel. They’re much more grown up than any shoes she’s had before, and almost certainly much more expensive. She turns them over to see if there’s a price tag on the bottom, and something small and heavy falls onto her bed.
A phone. Tucked inside of her beautiful new shoes, Svetlana has hidden a sleek black flip phone. Valeriya shoves it under her pillow and goes back out to the kitchen to show mama the shoes. She can tell mama doesn’t really approve, but she’s not willing to say anything in front of Svetlana. If her mother is so clearly unhappy with Svetlana taking her shopping, why is she letting it happen?
That night, after Svetlana has left with a promise to visit again soon, Valeriya closes her door and holds her breath until the house is quiet. She reaches her hand under the pillow and pulls out phone, flips it open. The screen lights up blue, with Nokia written across the middle, and then she’s looking at an inbox that already has two messages.
The first is from Svetlana Vetrova. It reads, Call any time, Valera. I can show you again how to brush the product through your hair.
Her breath catches a little when she reads the second.
For emergencies, or anything you need. Don’t let him bully you, Lera. I’m just a phone call away. Sveta will keep an eye out for you. Ilya.
The contacts for both of them are already saved. Svetlana had mentioned that her gifts were from Ilya, too, and that he wasn’t going to be able to come back to Moscow for a while. Valeriya doesn’t really understand why, and it’s not like they were ever close, but… it feels important, and she thinks she gets what’s going on. These are people who want her to be ok, and want to have a direct way of making sure instead of going through her parents. They’re maybe the only people in the world who understand, and even though she knows Ilya and her father have never gotten along, he’s willing to go behind his brother’s back to offer her this lifeline.
Valeriya sends one message, replying to Svetlana: Thank you. She turns the phone off, wraps it in a pair of socks she doesn’t wear anymore, and pushes it to the back of her sock drawer. She doesn’t need it now, really, but she knows that she’ll be glad she has it when she does need it.
—
Valeriya is twelve when her mother gets sick. She’s more than old enough to be told what’s going on, but all her father will tell her is that mama is in the hospital and it will be a long time before she is able to come home. Papa tells her he is sending her to a boarding school, where they’ll teach her how to be a proper young woman instead of a whore like her mother.
He goes white as a sheet the moment he says it, mutters something that is not an apology, and disappears into his office.
She’s on a train to school within a month, still turning her father’s outburst over in her head. A whore like her mother. He’s never said something like that to her before. He’s always been hard on her mother, on both of them really, but he’d be the first to loudly proclaim that his wife and daughter are respectable ladies and nothing like those modern western women. These days, she sometimes sees glimpses of the version of her father that was yelling at Ilya and Svetlana at the funeral. He reminds her of Dedushka.
She wonders how they can afford to send her to this school, while her mother is in the hospital and her father doesn’t seem to be working. She wonders if she will see her mother again, and if her father will be at all recognizable the next time she sees him.
School is fine, but the other girls are slow to warm up to a newcomer and quick to make fun of the way she does her hair. Privately, she thinks her hair is much healthier and prettier than theirs. Svetlana was the one who taught her how to style it, after all, and Svetlana is the most stylish woman in the world. The classes are fine, her dorm room is fine, and her roommate is fine. She turns 13 alone in her room.
Valeriya is lonely, but no more than she was at home. She’s not supposed to be on her phone after lights out, but she pulls it out late every night and stares at the two message threads she still has. There are a few texts with Svetlana, checking in that she’s received packages sent to her and wishing her a happy birthday. Ilya’s message remains untouched.
—
When the first term break comes around, her father forgets to pick her up from the train station. She uses a pay phone to call him first, since she technically doesn’t have a cellphone. He doesn’t pick up. Sitting on a bench on the cold, windy platform, she pulls out the flip phone and calls Svetlana, who might not even be in Russia right now. The line connects on the second ring.
“Valera? What’s wrong?” Svetlana sounds alert, but like she’s trying to sound calm and casual. The idea that someone is worried for her sticks in Valeriya’s throat.
“The old man forgot me,” she laughs, trying for casual herself and not altogether succeeding. “Probably busy gambling. Can you come get me, Totushka? This train station is boring.” Her voice breaks a bit at the end, but maybe Svetlana didn’t notice.
“Of course, plemyannitsa moya,” Svetlana purrs, “I will be right there. We’ll have a girls day, and you’ll tell me all about your new school.”
They spend the day together and get manicures. By the time Svetlana drops Valeriya back off at home, the sun is low in the sky and her nerves are calmed.
Svetlana sends Valeriya ahead to unpack her bag in her bedroom, and she can hear through the wall that her aunt and her father are having a very serious conversation. She thinks she catches Svetlana calling papa stupid, and papa is using that word again, this time directed at Svetlana. Valeriya throws her door open, pulling her mouth into a grateful smile and clapping her hands together to announce her presence.
“Thank you, Tyotya, for picking me up today! Papa, we ran into each other outside the train station and she offered to take me out to lunch. I hope you weren’t too worried, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I didn’t need you to come get me.”
Her father grits his teeth, forces out a thank you to Svetlana, and sees her out the door. When he turns to Valeriya, he looks… tired.
“You will work on your school assignments while you’re here. I’m busy. There is food in the kitchen. You’re grown up now, you’ll have to take care of yourself.” With that, he turns on his heel and retreats to his office once again. Valeriya sees very little of him over the next week, and Svetlana comes to return her to school at the end of break.
When Valeriya comes home again for Christmas, her father is… not improved. Svetlana helped her arrange ahead for a cab to pick her up from the train station, so Valeriya does not interact with anyone until nearly midday the day after she arrives. He looks worse than she has ever seen him, red-rimmed eyes darting around and skipping over her completely.
That first day, he asks her for money. She only has small pocket change, obviously, but when she tells him so he pulls his lips up into a sneer and moves to tower over her.
“Everything I give you, everything I do for you and your bitch mother, and you can’t even return the favor. Greedy, all of you.”
Valeriya does not remark that she’s pretty sure none of the money they live off of is his, and she does not defend her mother. She waits a few days until her father appears more like his usual self, sitting at the kitchen table and frowning at his phone, and softly inquires whether it might be nice to visit mama in the hospital on Christmas Eve so they can spend it as a family.
“What?” her father spits out, but it comes out more sad than angry this time. “Your mother? She’s dead, Lerochka. Did you think she was still getting five-star treatment in a fancy hospital? Fuck, as if I can afford that. Especially with how greedy you’ve gotten.”
Valeriya’s father hasn’t called her that since she was maybe four years old. It’s like a slap, honestly, to hear him be so casually cruel to her while using such a sweet name at the same time.
“Oh,” she says, surprised that her voice comes out even and strong. “You’re a coward. You couldn’t even tell me, could you?”
Valeriya’s father is standing, suddenly, and shouting at her. She doesn’t stick around to hear what he has to say. She runs to her room, locks the door, and re-packs her bag.
When he’s tired himself out and she doesn’t hear him anymore, Valeriya takes her bag and her cell phone and she starts her journey back to school. There will be others on campus during the break, she’s sure they’ll let her stay if she explains that her father is sick and he doesn’t want her to get infected staying at home.
—
In February, Valeriya gets into her first fight at school. One of the other girls is talking about how her mother is going to take her to America over the summer, and they’re going to spend months getting tan on the beach in a place called New Jersey. Valeriya snorts, remembering what Svetlana had taught her about the different hockey cities in that part of the country. As far as she can tell, New Jersey is a place that smells bad and isn’t quite New York.
When Valeriya says much, the other girl snipes back that Valeriya won’t be going anywhere, because her mother is either sick or dead and nobody cares about her. Valeriya naturally responds with a solid, well-thrown punch, and is punished severely.
It’s not the last fight she gets into, although it is the last time she has to punch that particular girl.
The school threatens and threatens to call her father, but she can tell that they’ve already tried and that he isn’t picking up.
When Spring term is almost over, Valeriya sends her father a letter. She doubts he’ll read it, but she sends it just in case to cover her tracks. In the letter, she explains that she will be taking a summer course in order to avoid burdening him, and so that she can further her education in thanks for everything he’s done to support her. She rolls her eyes as she writes it, sticks it in the mail, and pulls out her phone.
The line rings for a while, but Ilya picks up before it goes to voicemail.
“Hello? Lera? Where are you, is everything ok?” He sounds tired, and Valeriya kicks herself for not thinking about what time it is there. Still, he picked up. And he knows she’s the one calling, so he must have her number saved.
“Ilya?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as a whisper.
“Yes, plemyannitsa, it’s me. Are you hurt? What did he do?” Valeriya hears rustling in the background, another male voice, and Ilya must pull the phone away from his mouth because she hears him respond in muffled English. Valeriya’s English is good, after a year at a prestigious boarding school, but Ilya’s words are too quiet for her to make out.
“I am ok. I’m at school, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called so late and it’s not important-”
“No, no, please,” he cuts her off before she can hang up. “Whatever you need. It’s why we gave you the phone, right? What do you need, Lera?”
Valeriya tries very hard not to sniffle audibly into the phone.
“Can I- the school year is almost over. Papa doesn’t want to see me, I thought maybe I could… Can I visit? I won’t tell him, I promise, he thinks I’m staying at school for summer classes and he wouldn’t care anyway, and I don’t think I can spend another week at home without Mama, please, I’ll take care of myself but can I just-”
“Woah, woah, Lerochka. Slow down. Yes, of course. Of course. Ah… Sveta will text you, ok? I will ask her to book your flights and take care of your visa. And we’ll spend the summer together here. Of course it’s ok. There are some things to figure out, but of course you can come.”
They talk for another hour, about her mother and Svetlana and Boston. When Ilya seems convinced that she’s safe and that she doesn’t need any immediate help, he yawns and admits that he should probably go back to bed. Valeriya doesn’t sleep much at all, that night.