“Were you the man who left me at the orphanage door?” Roman asked the stranger, spotting the same birthmark on his chest.
“Right then, lads, time for me to go!” Roman shouted, leaping onto the moving trains steps. His mates waved from the platform, someone trying to shout a last word. He grinned.
Three years had passed since he returned from the army. In that time, hed landed a job and started university through distance learning. But thisjust packing up and heading to another citywas a first.
His friends shared a common historythe childrens home. Orphans in their youth, theyd grown into adults with their own dreams and plans.
Annie and Pete had married, taken out a mortgage, and were expecting a baby. Roman was genuinely happy for them, though a twinge of envy crept inthe good kind, because he wanted the same. But life had taken him down a different path.
Even in his earliest years at the home, hed wondered: Who was he? Whered he come from? Why was he here?
Memories were hazy, like fragments of a dream, but deep down, he clung to a warm feeling of something good in the past. The only clue hed ever uncovered was that a man had brought himyoung, well-dressed, about thirty.
Hed learned this from old Nelly, the head cleaner, who hadnt retired yet back then.
“I was sharper-eyed in those days,” shed told him. “I looked out the window, and there he was under the lamppost, holding a little boys hand. The lad couldnt have been more than three.”
“He spoke to him seriously, like he was grown. Then the doorbell rangand off he dashed. I chased after him, but he was quickgone in a blink.”
Shed recognise him in a heartbeat. His nose was distinctivelong and sharp, like something out of a painting. No car nearby, so he mustve been local. Didnt even bother with gloves for the boy.
Roman remembered none of it. But over the years, hed pieced together that the man was likely his father. What had happened to his mother remained a mystery.
Still, hed been brought to the home well-dressed and cared for. Only one thing unsettled the staffa large, pale birthmark stretching across his chest and up his neck.
At first, they thought it was a burn. But doctors confirmed it was a rare hereditary mark. Nelly swore such things ran in families.
“Alright, Nelly, dyou want me to walk round beaches checking everyones birthmarks now?” Roman had joked.
But shed only sighed. To him, shed become family. After he aged out, she took him in.
“Stay with me till you get proper housing. No need to drift between rented rooms.”
Back then, hed fought back tearshe was a man now. But how could he forget the times shed comforted him after some “disciplinary” thrashing, letting him cry in her arms?
Hed always stood up for others, even against older kids. And shed stroke his hair and say,
“Youre a good lad, honest to a fault. But life wont be kind to that heart of yours.”
He hadnt understood then. It took years to grasp her meaning.
Annie had been at the home since birth. Pete arrived later, when Roman was eleven. He was lanky and tall; Pete, quiet and sensitive.
Petes parents had died in a tragedycounterfeit vodka. At first, he kept to himself.
Then came the day that bound the three of them for goodnot by blood, but by something stronger.
Annie was bullied. Ginger, small, shyperfect prey. Some teased, others pulled her hair, a few just shoved. That day, the older kids were especially cruel.
Roman couldnt ignore it. He stepped inbut was outmatched. Within minutes, he was on the ground, shielding his face. Annie screamed, swinging her schoolbag like a sword.
Thensilence. The shouts, the blows, the jeeringgone, like a switch flipped. Hands hauled Roman up. Pete stood there.
“Whatd you go and do that for? Cant even throw a proper punch!”
“Was I sposed to just watch?”
Pete thought, then held out his hand.
“Youre alright. Shake on it?”
And just like that, friendship took root.
Annie stared at Roman with such awe he had to cover her mouth.
“Close that, or youll swallow a fly.”
Pete laughed.
“Listen, tinyif anyone bothers you, come to me. Tell em youre under my wing.”
From then on, Pete trained Roman seriously. At first, it was dullhed rather readbut Pete knew how to motivate.
Soon, Roman thrived. His PE grades soared, muscles toughened, and girls started glancing his way.
Pete left the home first. Annie cried, but he hugged her and said,
“None of that. Ill be back. Havent I always kept my word?”
He did returnoncebefore joining the army. When he came back again, Annie was packing. He walked in, uniformed, flowers in hand.
“Im here for you. Couldnt stand being apart.”
By then, Annie had bloomed into a beauty. When she turned, Pete nearly dropped the bouquet.
“Blimey! Youre a vision! Fancy being my wife?”
She smiled.
“I do. Youre not bad yourself.”
After the army, Pete was stationed in the city Roman was now heading to. Hed visit themespecially once their baby came. Hed be godfather, no question.
Roman settled into his first-class compartmentno skimping this time. He needed rest before workhe was a high-rise construction worker now. Good pay, no overtime, enough free hours for study and friends.
As he turned in, shouts erupted in the corridor. A man bellowed, demanding someone vacate a compartment immediately.
Roman ignored ituntil a tearful womans voice joined in. Familiar. His chest tightened. Like Nellys. He peered out.
A young attendant trembled by the next compartment.
“Whats happening?”
“Some big shot,” she whispered. “An old lady bumped his teaspilled on his shirt. Now hes carrying on like she ought to be jailed.”
The man raged on.
“Get out, you old bat! Youre fouling the air!”
Roman stepped forward.
“Mate, pipe down. Shes elderly. Not her fault, and she paid her fare same as you.”
“You know who I am? One call, and youre off this train!”
“Dont care who you are. Jaws break the sameyours or mine.”
The man fell silent. Roman turned to the woman.
“Come with me. Were swappingmy compartments yours.”
Tears welled in her eyesgratitude. The attendant watched Roman with respect. He returned to his new space, tossed his bag down, unbuttoned his shirt. The man paled.
“Whats that on your chest?”
Roman met his gaze.
“Not contagious. Had it since birth.”
“My God”
The man sank onto the seat. Roman frowned.
“Whats wrong?”
Trembling hands unbuttoned the mans shirt. Beneath itthe same birthmark.
“Were you the man who left me at the orphanage?”
“Yes. I was a coward. Im sorry. I was married then. Your mother, Marina She came to me, said she was dying. Asked me to take you in.”
“But my wife was due back. I panicked Took you to the home and moved away. Years later, Marina found me. Treatment saved hershed looked for you. I told her you were dead.”
“Where is she now?”
“After a stroke, she went to a care home. About two years ago. In your city.”
Roman said nothing. He left, approaching the attendant.
“I heard everything,” she murmured. “You can rest in my quarters if you like.”
“Thanks. And I think I know which home he meant.”
He skipped work, calling in to explain. The attendantKatewent with him. He was grateful; going alone wouldve been too much.
“Marina was admitted after a stroke around two years ago”
“Thats her. Marina Pavlovna. Lovely woman. Always said she had no oneson was dead. And you?”
Roman shrugged.
“Maybe her son. If its really her.”
“Go in.”
The woman in the wheelchair looked up from her knitting. Smiled. The nurse gasped.
“Youre the spitting image!”
Marina dropped her yarn.
“I always knew you were alive. Felt it in my bones.”
Two years passed. Marina underwent rehab, funded by Roman. Now she read fairy tales to her grandson while Kate, his wife, prepared a celebratory dinner
