ESL Blogs

My dear friends, let me bore you once again with one of my country tales.

Indeed, I feel that the country life ought to be described more as it is disappearing fast. We already know that more people live in the cities than in villages.  But that is not all. The very lifestyle and traits of character typical for people from rural areas are becoming extinct. Generations of people used to live in the same places , taking up the same occupations. Living in a village makes it difficult to disguise oneself, and you will always be judged depending on what family background you come from, all your ancestors contributing to your good or not so good reputation by their life stories. Nobody is going to take you at your face value as they might do in the city when a young person introduces his or her  fiancée to the parents and expects them to okey right there on the spot. The skeletons would start falling out of the cupboard quite soon…but that’s not our concern at the moment.

So, let us commence to the story. The family that I’m going to speak about belonged to the top  of the village hierarchy. Stepan, the head of the family, was the chief mechanic of the big farm and his wife Olga worked as an accountant. Stepan was one of the best in his profession and there wasn’t a problem with the farm machinery that he couldn’t solve. His word was hard as rock and always to the point. You could see him drink but never drunk. That is what a true man should be, and so Stepan was both respected and respectable.

Olga was ten years his junior and now in her early forties. It seemed as if she was always dressed up, so well did any dress fitted her. She was that lucky type of women who can effortlessly keep her girlish figure and Stepan’s eyes filled with quiet pride whenever he was watching his wife walk along the wide village streets.

There was one not very common thing about them: they had an only child. Most families in villages still maintain an opinion that one child is never enough. But Olga and Stepan were so overjoyed with the birth of their son that they didn’t feel the urge to love any other human being until it was too late to have more kids. Sergey, their son, got the best of everything  they could provide. Olga doted on her son, her darling, the apple of her eye. He was the prince, the angel, et cetera, et cetera. Only mothers can be so ardent in their love. You’d think Sergey grew a spoiled brat but no, he was a happy and easy-going boy of nineteen, free from any worries, kind and popular with his peers. So are lots of young people from happy families.

So, at the time of our story  nineteen-year-old Sergey was spending his summer vacations at his home. In a year he was to graduate from the college and go to the army or to a university. He was living the summer to the full: hiking in the woods, swimming, playing sports with his school friends, never missing the disco or a new movie at the club and still finding time to help his parents. He came home late and there was always some supper waiting for him on the table.

Very soon  Olga learnt that her son got a girl-friend. It is impossible to keep a secret in a village as there are some “omnipresent” people who see and hear every thing happening around and serve as local radio station that tells people the news mindless of whether they wish to hear it.  The news  upset Olga – Sergey was too young to marry and, which mattered most, she knew the girl.

The girl, Nastya, was the daughter of some insignificant local woman. You’d even fail to describe her as there was nothing remarkable either in her appearance or character. Just plain common nothingness. Though Nastya did manage to grow  both smart and good-looking,  lively and somewhat cheeky, Olga knew that wasn’t the kind of a daughter-in-law she wanted to have. Seeing her son walking on air and being wise enough to know that “action is equal to counteraction”, she constrained herself from talking to her son. Instead, she decided to wait till the summer was over and Sergey went back to studies. Out of sight, out of mind – people say so for a reason, don’t they? Meanwhile Olga made a stern face whenever she met Nastya and hardly ever replied with a slight nod to the girl’s greeting.

  Sergey’s happy days went on. One August evening he was at the disco without Nastya  , she stayed home for some reason, so Sergey joined his friends. There was quite a crowd at the disco, boys from the neighbouring villages came, too. Some were drunk, others just looked for a reason to fight. The fight started as if by itself, guys from different villages were hitting each other and in the midst of the brawl some mean wretch stabbed Sergey with a knife. In just a few minutes he was dead.

The grief of his parents was immense. The father seemed to turn into stone. He didn’t cry which might have been better. He didn’t talk, didn’t  hear people talking, the life around him stopped to exist for him. Olga’s grief was loud and active, if I may say so. She cried till she had voice and tears. She hit her head on the wall, walked aimlessly around the rooms, took hold of some thing that belonged to her son and started crying and hitting and tearing her hair again. There was a bleeding wound in her heart that wouldn’t leave her.

Three weeks after Sergey’s death  the “radio” aka the postwoman brought the news to Olga that Nastya was pregnant with Sergey’s child, and that she opted for an abortion. Apparently, she wasn’t going to be a single mother. This was told by Nastya’s mother herself. Village people know that it is impossible to conceal anything, so they don’t even try…  The news deprived Olga of the little sleep she could get in her depressed state.

The next morning saw Olga on her knees before Nastya. “Don’t! Don’t do it! Please!”  After some hours of persuasion, promises of assistance of every kind, and just talking and crying Nastya agreed to keep the baby.

In the evening Olga conveyed the information to Stepan and that was the first time he cried after his son’s death.