Father Frost

Fuck it! Hell. My heart. Can’t she see? Enough. I need out. Bitch, cold bitch. S Novym Godom!

I slammed the door too hard, maybe, but who the fuck cares, my God. It’s a festive eve, let it be some lesson. Danik… Dan’ll be okay, despite us! Kid’s mom’s a hysteric and liar and a heartbreaker, and of course I’m an evaporatin’ nothin’. Of course I’m nothin’. So doesn’t matter I’m a failure now or where. Take stairs—not gonna stand around, an idiot, waitin’ for the damn lift. Faster this way, and yeah, I trip, but s’all good, so don’t piss yourself, mama. We’re all, all of us, past care, and I’m just goin’ for a drive to clear my head, and boy, wind sure feels good right now. But really? Snow’s too much to ask for in this holy desert? Why here? Why am I here? Who for?

Think—yeah, think I have my wallet and keys, the cig pack. Lighter, no, but gotta have a spare in the truck. Goddamn keys, get in—get in, blyat! Useless fingers. Key’s in and I get comfy, see our bathroom window light up. Come on then, see me ‘fore I go, or, or don’t you believe? I’ll wreck this tachka and myself in it? Fumble in the dark for the lighter—thing’s here somewhere. There. There we go: the fire’s a bright and warm little dancing point. Inhale, exhale, damn pleasure. Smoke’s fillin’ the cabin so I roll down the window and pop an elbow out. She not even curious to look? No call either. Shit. Danik. Jolt forward and throw the cig out the window, wave and cough. God, smile back for once. Why so fuckin’ miserable? She been tellin’ you, what? Buddy? There he goes callin’ her, not me, why me.

Jam key into ignition. No lookin’ at the house anymore, no pity. Turn on the player and Mashina Vremeni’s flyin’ woman comes on. Last thing I need. Pull out of our lot. Truck’s speakers are doing a banger job makin’ Makarevich’s glittery melodies come to life. Leave the song on, drive smooth, safe if I need, away from these shitbox streets. Dashboard says it’s 23:29—plenty of time till ‘05. Wipe my eyes cuz I can’t see shit, should’ve taken a fuckin’ bottle with me if nothin’ else. Where’m I, goin’, drivin’? City, beach, boulevard, streets. Andrei’s, maybe to Andrei’s… Ha, scumbag. Why’m I so fuckin’ stupid? Think I’m stupid, eyein’ my wife, front of my face, thinking I don’t see. I see I feel. I oughtta—shit, shit. Shoutin’ something. Punch the horn back at ‘em. Enough with the goddamn Hebrew, can’t with you right now—not tonight, can’t. Fuckin’ noise my head is poundin’ and it hurts and God GOD GOD—

“ZAKROY PAST’, pridurok!” shout to drown their noise and it feels…..
Swear I could just stomp, the brakes, get out, smash a face. But whatever-the-fuck so speed away from the red Mazda. What was I… Right, head poundin’, Andrei. His kid, his kid’s alright. Good kid, polite! Fuckin’ shame his father’s a wretch, traitor. Probably not even with him now, kid’s meetin’ new year with whatever fuck ex-wife’s shacked up with. And I’m the idiot, mess…? Where’s his…? On the eastern side by the… School there, and—yup. Swerve, stop ‘side the curb, minute. Phone. Arrow downdowndown the green screen: Alyonushka-wife, Backstabbin’-Andrei, (Mama, s’your number still here?) Bman, Bitch-Witch Landlady, Danik, Grandad dearest, Grandm— Sasha! Pick up come on pick—

“H-hello…?”

“Sash, privet! S’nastupayushim! N’sleepin’?!”
“S’nastupayushim…? Sleeping? We’re eating. Who is this?”

“S’me, uncle Volodya! N’recognize?”
“Oh—oh! Privet, Volodya!”
“L’sten, m’gonna over in couple, m’kay? Y’tell mama I wanna give, give gift you sumthin’ Horosh?”
“Oh, now? Okay.”
“Davai, theresoon. Paka!”

Toss phone in back seat. Back on the road—not far. Call Andrei, make sure…? Got this. Street’s familiar, makes sense. Picked up wi’ Danik ‘round here, to pool… Left here and sure and always, same shitbox streets. E’thin’s in place. Rollin’ down the lil’, slow, road—stop. Wallet’s cash—what’s left of the paycheck. Notes fall between legs. I feel, rummage. By window I count by streetlight while straightenin’ ‘em out: twenty, forty, eighty… Not enough. Must have more. Flap of the coin pocket. Out a five, another. Ten! Good, clean hundred.

Out of truck—movement fluid, elegantno—slam the door and a hellooo! But, before, forehead’s ‘gainst window for a few. Nice and coldsmooth. Wonder about m’head, are there are welts on my face cuz it’s startin’ to hurt real fuckin’ bad and maybe I did the thing, thing where nothin’ make sense ‘cept to bang on my fuckin’ empty useless bad head cuz what does she fuckin’ want from me?! WHAT…..!?

Okay, ‘kay. Got this. To the house, follow yellow streetlights how they wash the whooole street. No one here ‘sides me. Breath, I breathe, ‘kay. Windows of the house, yeah, actually I dunno kid’s apartment, but the light, that there’s festive. Second floor? On, like, this side? Put down my hands, gesticulatin’ to God.

Door lobby opens—need no, need no buzz. Need. Hop up stairs two by two. Not this door, this’s got Hebrew on it. Next. Head explodin’ and the echo in here. I see it: kid’s apartment got garland on the door lettin’ people know, announcin’ tonight’s ours. Front of it and I hear good old songs hummin’ and I knock ‘side the plastic garland, wreath—whatever. Nothin’. Knocknock harder cuz maybe it’s too loud ‘nside. Door sudden, suddenly retreats from knuckles, see light and it’s a lil’ big-eared face, backlit, greetin’.

“Sasha! S’me! Hiya.” Reach, wanna shake hands, but, he’s all—what?—scared?!

“Oh, privet Volodya.” Completes the handshake, limp. Can sorta see behind him: yolka lit, wrapped in glitterin’ things, TV shmuck serenadin’, and is it?—yes, mama’s peekin’, Andrei’s pretty loss. Her new man’s where? Hear voice is askin’ sumthin’, can’t see.

“Comeonout here, for a sec—wanted give you a present for…” Hear his mama call his name, confused, confuse, she’s not greetin’ me. Fuckin’ rude but ah, fine!! He looks back, says somethin’—can’t make out—comes out and stands in front of door and I can’t ‘xactly ‘member his age. Eleven? Supposed to be a year, two older than Dan. M’just, smile, best I can really, but the damn kid’s seized, this fuckin’ look, this look. As if, as ifff, he’s waitin’ for his papa to papa out from behind me. I don’t make sense alone, what, why…?

“Sash, comeon, here—handshere, like this,” gesture with my hands. Cupped. He hesitates, mimics—good—cups hands too. I dig my pocket and dump money in his small boat.

“Thishere’s…… justforyou, for the…, New Year, huh?! Bah, lighten up!” Force a laugh, hahaha, though nothin’s funny, maybe, not really, really everythin’, why not, and he’s just standin’, frozen, ruffle his hair and hug proper. Silence, silence, rigid, what?

“Thank you, uncle Volodya. Can I go?” h’says, muffled, timid. I wish he—I wish, hadn’t said that, anythin’. Anyone, anyone? I—maybe I smile nod notice breath. Hug’s over, I turn, eyes on me. Faster faster down the stairs again stairs again stairs streetlights leakin’refractin’meltin’. Face wet the truck where’s the truck my truck my son gone I hear crackles pops and cheer am I late child it’s the new year?