Natasha was picked up from the hospital by her cousin, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a successful artist, known for her honest and cheerful nature. As she supported Natasha toward the car, she candidly shared the news:
“Natasha, well… it seems Vadim is living with someone else now. But don’t worry. You have a place to stay. I’m here to help as much as I can.”
After undergoing surgery and several chemotherapy sessions, Natasha was bald, thin, and pale. She thought to herself that the situation traditionally calls for fainting, crying, and pulling out hair, but there wasn’t any hair to pull out.
Faking a fainting spell and falling right into a puddle was an option, but Elizabeth had lent her a white coat seeing as it was autumn and getting cold.
Inside the car, warmth enveloped them as Elizabeth wrapped Natasha in a fur blanket, fastened her seatbelt, and drove toward Natasha’s new life. Throughout the drive, Elizabeth explained:
“I bought this house for myself two years ago, with plans to live there and paint during the summers. But after some time, I realized it’s not for me. I’m too accustomed to convenience, large stores, and the bustling crowd. I can’t stand the silence. I was there yesterday; the heating works and water runs. There’s a grocery shop nearby, but I’ve brought you supplies. I’ll visit often.”
In the yard sat a big ginger dog, its fluffy tail wagging eagerly as it approached Natasha, nudging her knee with its nose. Natasha patted the shaggy ginger head, then turned to Elizabeth with a questioning look.
“Natasha, I adopted him from the shelter yesterday. You need a friend. How will you manage alone? Don’t worry, I’ve got enough food for him for a month. Things are livelier with two. His name is Johnny.”
Inside the cozy two-story house were boxes filled with canned food, grains, pasta, flour, and biscuits scattered in the dining room.
“You’ll sort it out, this way you’ll know where everything is. The fridge is stocked. You’ll find clothes for all seasons in the wardrobe. We’re the same size. Let’s have some tea, then I’ll head off.”
As Elizabeth slipped on her coat, she looked to meet Natasha’s eyes, but Natasha looked away.
“Natasha, this dog spent three years in a cage because no one wanted to adopt him; he’s big and not young anymore. I understand life’s tough for you, but remember, you have me. And the dog has you. We all need something to hold onto. Forget Vadim.
Everything will be alright. Also, this is your house now. I put everything in your name—the house and the land. Papers and money are in the bedroom. Natasha, let’s just live our lives! I’ll be back in a week. Call if you need anything.”
Elizabeth kissed Natasha and left…
As night fell, Natasha sat curled up in an armchair, her face buried in her knees. She cried, then recounted her misfortunes to herself, and later, found herself blaming Elizabeth for pushing a dog on her. “I’ll just lie here and die; I lack the strength to live.” But what about the dog? It would be cruel to neglect him. She realized she should at least feed him.
Putting on a jacket, she glanced at her bald head in the mirror. “Let’s not scare the dog; it’s not his fault,” she thought and pulled on a hat. Finding the dog food, she filled Johnny’s bowl and stepped outside.
Johnny, having eaten, licked the bowl clean, then moved to lick the salty tears from Natasha’s face. He lay beside her on the porch step, resting his head in her lap.
The sky, almost black now, was scattered with stars surrounding a bright round moon. Spotting the Big Dipper, Natasha smiled and blew a kiss. Then, hugging the dog, she said,
“Alright, Johnny, tomorrow I’ll make you proper porridge. With meat.”
Throughout the week, Natasha would catch sight of herself in the mirror each morning, get startled, and say:
“Aelita…”
Now and then, the thought crossed her mind: maybe it’s not worth it, this life. Who needs me? But then her gaze would fall upon Johnny, contentedly curled on his blanket by the fireplace, and Natasha would decide, “Well, I’ll live a little longer.”
The emotional turning point came with Elizabeth’s promised visit a week later. She entered with a box in her hands and placed it on the couch, saying:
“Well, Natasha, what should I do with them? Can you believe a stray cat gave birth outside my flat? They must be cold! I brought food too…”
In the box was a skinny ginger cat, her paws wrapped protectively around two tiny kittens. By evening, Elizabeth left. She paused on the doorstep, speaking softly as she handed a slip of paper to her sister.
“Natasha, Vadim came by asking after you. I didn’t tell him. Here’s his new phone number. It’s up to you.”
Natasha walked Elizabeth to her car and waved her off. Back inside, she stroked the cat.
“You’ll be called Mittens. I’ll get you some milk now. Everything will be alright.”
Passing the fireplace, she tossed the slip of paper into the flames.
