Andriy Karamazov

The morning service was over but many still lingered inside. It was dark and stuffy. The heavy scent of incense almost suffocated Valentina Filipovna and the sticky wax candle in her hand flickered and smoked heavily. 

“Gospodi pomiluy.” – Several wax drops fell into the holder and Valentina Filipovna put her candle on them. – “Take care of Artur, spasi i sohrani.” 

She pressed with all her body on a tall wooden door. It groaned on its hinges and let her out in the hot May air, thick with street noise and blossoming trees. 

“Oh, what a scorcher…” – Valentina waved her free hand in front of her face and put it on her chest. 

Straightening her silk scarf on her head, she walked across the street to the Izovo town bazar, letting an old yellow Pazik pull away from the bus stop first. The bus rattled away to somewhere outside the town. 

It was loud and the bazar square stank with rotting fish. Behind the rusted trash containers, a pack of stray dogs fought for the bones of the freshly slaughtered cow. The local smugglers, all wearing belt bags and Adidas sweatpants, smoked close to the marketplace entry. Someone joked and the waves of laughter rolled over the heads of the human sea. People crowded the marketplace; they shuffled between the stalls, pushed each other in the back and sometimes dropped a curse or two. 

“Filipovna! Valentina! Valia! Good morning!”

She turned to follow the voice. An old, bulky woman sat on the concrete brim of a flower bed. A few cardboard boxes of vegetables and seasonings were laid out in front of her on the asphalt. Behind her, a dirty plastic beach umbrella with faded colors was stuck in the flower bed, giving some shade.  

“Ah, Vasilyevna! Good morning. How are you? Your children?”

“Oh Filipovna, what am I to complain when even the young ones are getting sick… Galia, my Galia, is about to give birth. Remember? God help her. I pray every day.”

“Have you maybe…”

“Two days now, Filipovna, cannot reach my Vova! Don’t know what to think! Filipovna… Their commander, he planned an assault, Vova was at line zero with his squad. Don’t know what to think!”

“Vova is a good man. He will be fine, you’ll see. He’ll be alright, just busy now.” – Valentina put a hand on her chest, her breath got heavier. 

“Oh Filipovna…” – the woman waved and looked to the side for a moment. – “Said he’d be back till Easter, but they don’t let him go.”

“They said in “Vesti” that a truce is coming. Have you heard?”

“They are saying, yes, they are announcing. But will it be, will it, Filipovna…” – the woman reached out to one of the boxes. – “Try my tomatoes, please. I grew them myself.”

Valentina took a slice and put it in her mouth. The tomato was hard and tasteless. 

“Very tasty one, thank you, Vasilyevna. Have a nice day.”

Valentina visited the pavilion with the meat and cheese stalls, bought some herbs and headed home. At an intersection she stopped at the red light and saw Nina, the postwoman, leaving Valentina’s building and hurrying to the next one. 

“Nina! NINA!” – Valentina waved. 

The postwoman did not hear her. Valia put her hand on her chest. She did not notice the green light and just stood there for a while. Then crossed. 

Breathless, she reached her building and propped herself, leaning with her arm against the green steel mailboxes on the wall. It smelled like fresh newspapers in the building’s entrance hall. The cool steel surface was pleasant to the touch. Valia reached into her bag and fished out the keys. She tried to open her mailbox, but the key slipped between her fingers. On the third try it turned. Valia grabbed the bluish rough envelope with the Kerzhovian State Coat of Arms on it. Her hand twitched and she almost crumpled it up. The envelope fell on the wooden floor. Again, she picked it up. 

The apartment door closed quietly behind her. Valia let her bag fall on the floor. She sank into the chair in the hallway, trying to catch her breath. Her temples were pulsing. Valia entered the living room and sat at the table. The curtains were drawn together, letting only one strip of light through. She put the envelope in the light and let one arm rest on the table. Her shoulders sank. Outside a bus passed by, making the glass in the apartment windows tremble. Valia took the letter, bent a corner and tried to open it. She fiddled with it for a moment, then reached out for the scissors. One cut. Valia pulled out a yellow folded piece of paper: 

Dear Mother,

…