CHAPTER TWO
DMITRY
The following morning Pawel’s voice vibrates the walls of my bedroom. “Grandpa. Dmitry. Come! Quick!”
I know exactly why he’s calling us ... Sylvia. I throw on my jeans and hoodie, and race downstairs to find Pawel kneeling beside his mother’s body.
Already stiff.
Already pale.
Already ... dead.
I try to hide my pleasure by masking sadness.
“Mother, mother, please wake. Please ... mother,” Pawel sobs kneeling beside Sylvia as he rocks her body in a desperate attempt to wake her from her eternal slumber.
“She’s dead, brother,” I say and place my hand on his shoulder.
“No, she fucking isn’t. I checked on her before I went to bed last night. She was sleeping here so I didn’t try to wake her. Dima, help me. Help me wake her.” He begs.
“She died last night, Pasha,” I say softly.
“Pasha? You haven’t called me Pasha in a long time.” He looks up at me with tear-soaked eyes that are reddened from grieving his mother. “Help me to wake her. Please, Dima. Help our mother.” His voice is hoarse.
“Pasha.” I take hold of his hand. “You’re not listening, she passed last night. She’s dead.”
“No. No. No. Don’t say that. Stop lying to me.” He pushes my hand away and begins violently shaking Sylvia.
“Pawel. Stop it. She’s gone, son. She’s gone.” Grandpa’s voice breaks through Pawel’s cries.
Pawel pulls at Sylvia’s shirt almost lifting her from the sofa and turns to Grandpa and I. “Grandpa, No. We need to wake her. I love my mother. Grandpa ... please I’m begging you. Wake her up.”
“I’m sorry son. She passed last night. I wanted you to be there when we buried her. I didn’t mean for you to wake before I did and find her like this,” Grandpa says slowly and hooks one hand beneath Pawel’s arm. “Come.” He lifts him to his feet.
The two of them embrace.
I stand emotionlessly.
I’m glad the bitch is dead.
Pawel senses my disdain for the bitch as he breaks away from Grandpa and lunges at me, throwing his fist. “You! You fucking did this, didn’t you?”
I step backward and his fist doesn’t make contact with anything other than air.
“She was a fucking bitch,” I reply, my leg bouncing and fists itching to form.
“I should never have left her alone with you. Fuck you, Dmitry. You always hated her,” he bites. His words are harsh, but truer than ever.
“She hated me. She hated me because ....” I growl wanting to punch his pretty face.
“Dima.” Grandpa interrupts.
“Because you’re you, Dmitry. She hated you because you’re fucking you. You’re the freak. You’re a freak. You made her hate you,” Pawel bites and his words cut into me.
Calling me a freak is a low fucking blow, brother. You really are her fucking spawn.
“She fucking hated me because she’s not my mother!” I scream at Pawel and shove hard into his chest.
“Yes, she was. She is. You made her punish you. You couldn’t ever be normal. You only have yourself to blame. I fucking tried Dima.”
“No. Anna is my mother. Not this bitch.” I hit him with the truth.
Pawel’s rage calms and looks back and forth at Grandpa and I. “Anna?”
“He was with me,” Natalia’s voice interrupts.
“Natalia, it’s okay you don’t need to see this.” I move to stand in front of her in fear of Pawel lashing out unexpectedly. Not that I’d ever known him to be cruel to a woman but in the heat of the moment anything could happen, and I’d have to kill my own brother if he dared to touch my sweet girl.
“Anna was our aunt. I fucking told you you’re insane.
” Pawel’s nostrils flare and his anger returns.
“My mother is dead and you’re here telling lies.
Crazy stories.” He looks from me to Natalia.
“You should stay away from him, Natalia. He’s unhinged.
He needs to go back to the asylum. He’s crazy, unstable. He always has been.”
“Enough! Pawel. That’s enough. Dima had nothing to do with Sylvia’s death.
When he and I returned, she was already gone.
Age and illness took her. Not Dmitry,” Grandpa says sternly and places his hands on both of our shoulders acting as peace maker between us just as he had always done when we’d get into fights as teenagers.
I look at my grandpa knowing he’s lying to protect me in the same way he always had. He was the one adult in my life who truly protected me.
“He’s lost his mind again, Grandpa. All this crazy talk about Anna being his mother.” Pawel shook his head in denial.
“Pawel. I said enough.” Grandpa grips tighter on to Pawel’s shoulder. “It’s true. Anna was his biological mother. Sylvia took care ... Sylvia acted as his mother.” Grandpa confirms I’m telling the truth and in this moment I’m not crazy at all.
“She wasn’t a good mother. Not to me, Pasha. Not to me ... but to you.” My voice breaks as I hold in my emotions. I won’t fucking cry in front of him.
I beg my brother to understand why I feel no sorrow for Sylvia. My tears would never be for her but for the little boy inside who only ever wanted to be loved.
“She tried to be.” Pawel lies.
“Fuck you!” I shout, my body shakes in anger.
“Dmitry, you’re my brother but you’re fucking crazy. It’s all in your head. It always has been. She could’ve left you to a fucking orphanage.” He goads me wanting me to hit self-destruct.
I can’t. I won’t. I’m not going back to Highspring Hall.
Fuck you, Pasha. You want me to be punished. You want to take Sylvia’s place as my tormentor, but worse than that you want my girl. You want me to be sent back to the loony bin so you can have Natalia.
Not. Fucking. Happening.
Brother.
I keep my thoughts to myself and turn to my grandpa. “I’ll help you bury her.”
“What the fuck do you mean, bury her? No one is burying my mother.” Pawel drops back to his knees and begins chest compressions on Sylvia’s body. Desperately trying to breathe air from his mouth past her cold dead lips.
“Pasha. Please, son. She’s gone. Leave her to rest now,” Grandpa says and once again lifts Pawel forcing him to stand. He turns to me. “Dima, go fetch some blankets. It’s time.”
I nod, make my way upstairs and climb up to the attic to collect the thick muslin sheets grandpa stored up there for such occasions.
I’d done this before, but I never imagined I’d be doing this for the only mother I’d had the misfortune of knowing.
Running my fingers over the pile I notice they’re fresh.
Not dusty like old shit in an attic usually is.
Did you anticipate her death, or me causing her death? How did you know, Grandpa?
Do you think I’m crazy, unhinged?
Not now Dima.
I take a deep breath and grab an armful of the sheets tucking them under my armpit and climb back down the ladder and walk back to the lounge. Sunlight seeps through the window as grandpa opens the curtains.
“Place the sheet here.” Grandpa points to the spot in front of the sofa.
I do as he says and unfold one of the muslin sheets and spread it across the floor.
“Hold her legs,” Grandpa tells me.
“I’ll do it,” Pawel says shoving me out of the way.
The two of them lift Sylvia’s body and place her onto the sheet. Grandpa folds it over her body and wraps her in multiple blankets.
Grandpa hands Pawel a set of keys. “Go bring the truck to the door.” He slaps his back as he leaves.
“He fucking hates me.” I tell Grandpa and Natalia.
“He’s just upset, Dima.” Natalia tries to reassure me. Her eyes looking up into mine with sincerity. “He’ll be okay, you’re brothers. He needs you now more than ever.”
“He blames me,” I reply and slap my chest in frustration.
“Dima,” she says softly, takes hold of my hands, kisses my cheek gently, and gives me a warm smile.
The door swings open and slams hard against the wall.
It’s Pawel. Without saying a word he stomps over to Sylvia’s muslin-clad body, picks her up and carries her to the waiting truck.
We all follow after him and watch as he slides her body onto the back seat.
He could’ve put her in the back but chose to place her in the comfort of the inside of the truck instead.
Even in death he comforts her, takes care of her . .. loves her.
Grandpa climbs into the driver’s seat and Pawel plays front passenger.
Grandpa drives the truck slowly down the snow-covered driveway which leads to the back of the house.
Natalia and I walk behind the truck until he pulls up by the small, frozen, and now snow-covered pond which sits at the end of the garden.
I’d spent many nights lying in this garden with my grandpa.
The two of us would lay blankets and gaze at the stars with his old binoculars.
He’d point out constellations, distant stars, the craters of the moon, and whenever a meteor shower appeared we’d lay out here all night with snacks and hot drinks.
Innessa would curl up with us, her tail wagging in delight whenever I’d give her chunks of meat.
I miss her so much, she was my best friend until Grandmother had her killed. I’ll never forgive her for that.
Murdering my dog because she was a fucking dog and killed a few chickens which were to be slaughtered anyway. I hope it was worth it to her, evil bitch just like this piece of shit Sylvia. They both deserved to die.
Get out of your head Dima, concentrate on the here and now.
Focus.
“Dima,” Grandpa calls me, shovel in hand. “Help Pawel,” he tells me as he lays Sylvia’s body on to the steel bench where I’d spent so many summers listening to Grandpa tell me stories. It’s rusty and old but at one point it was one of my favorite places.
I take the shovel from Grandpa and dig through the snow, hitting the frozen earth beneath it. I look behind me to see Natalia shivering.
Fuck, my girl shouldn’t have to deal with this shitty situation.
I stop digging and slam the shovel into the dirt, so it holds steady sticking up out of the ground. I pull my hoodie off and the frozen air stings my skin.
“Here,” I say and roll my hoodie over Natalia’s head.
She looks at me with her big, pretty eyes. “What about you?” She asks.