Mother Country by Irina Reyn

Author:Irina Reyn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

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November was a perfect month for a Crimean vacation. The foreign tourists had scattered, the air with just the right kiss of warmth and humidity. Strolling the wide paved streets of Yalta’s embankment, past the markets and open-air restaurants, Nadia decided she had no need for Europe or America, not when all this belonged to Ukraine. She looked at Larissa, the sleeves of her shirt and jacket rolled up to expose her arms to the sun. They were both inhaling the sea air with giant hungry gulps.

Larissa’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “Do you want to hear my words for Tyotya Yulia?”

“What words?”

“The things kids say. For the chatterbot. We use a lot of American words, for example, and twist them into Russian.”

Nadia smiled. “It’s not just the young people who do that, you know.”

She recognized an old coworker from the pipe factory who was strolling with her husband, and waved. The woman paused to remark on how lovely Larissa was, how slender and elegant, how fast she was growing. A budding beauty! But Nadia switched the topic to the weather. The warm breeze was refreshing, was it not, especially compared to the almost-winter nonsense of back home?

They had barely moved on when Larissa continued. “‘Jokery’ is one. We have two guys that are always called that because they are smart-asses. Here’s another one. One kid in my class said after school that our coal miners being out of work was an act of ‘Kuchism.’ That’s pretty clever, right? Kuchma’s name but Americanized.”

Nadia gripped her daughter’s arm. “Look, it’s one thing to joke around at home but I hope you’re being careful. You don’t know who’s listening. It’s not your business to say anything bad about Kuchma. Do you understand?”

“But everyone makes fun of him. And for your information, Artem doesn’t like Kuchma either.”

“Lower your voice, please. Well, you should definitely stay away from Artem. I mean, do you even like him? He follows you around like an abandoned puppy dog. Doesn’t his mother ever brush his hair?”

“No, as a matter of fact she doesn’t. And it’s really sad.”

Larissa grew quiet, her skin burnished with a rosy glow. Through childhood, she had been the easiest of children, clingy and shy but eager to please Nadia. The former was just now shedding but a difficult age was looming, when you could visibly see the closing of the gates, your child’s mind shutting itself off from you, growing impenetrable. Just in the last few months, Nadia watched a new, defiant personality that was pushing against the safe borders carefully crafted for her.

Nadia broke the silence. “You feel like something sweet? Should we find the ladies with the buckets of baklava or trubochki? Let’s check that you can have a bite or two.”

“Yes, Mama.”

The prospect of a little sugar treat turned Larissa into a child again. Nadia took out a needle and the little green blood sugar meter that Olga sent them from the United States and decided it was worth the sacrifice of the last of the precious strips.

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