Chapter 13
Danilo had been haunted by his own struggles as the war dragged on.
He didn’t say anything to his mother, he didn’t want to worry her.
He made up his own mind. He spoke to his boss at the hospital before he spoke to his mother.
He had known all along what he wanted to do.
He had mentioned it to her before, but didn’t want to argue with her about it.
He got everything lined up before he talked to her.
He was twenty-five years old, he was a man, almost a doctor now, and he had a right to make his own decisions.
His mother had been unhappy ever since she’d gotten to Madrid.
She’d been unhappy for years in Kyiv too.
She wasn’t a happy person. She always wanted something more, different, and better than what she had.
She didn’t know anyone in Spain, and because she didn’t speak the language, she had trouble meeting people.
She had always wanted a fancier life. She complained that her husband worked too much, but she liked the benefits of the money he made from a busy career as a successful surgeon.
But she would have preferred being the wife of an important businessman.
Anton did well, and they had a beautiful apartment, but she had always wanted a bigger one, and she thought Ukraine wasn’t fancy enough for her.
She thought London, Paris, or Berlin would have been more profitable, and they could have a bigger home and a more important position in the world.
She wanted none of it through her own accomplishments, but expected Anton to provide it for her, and however much he did provide, which Anton thought was considerable, they had a very good life, but for his wife it was never enough.
Danilo had long since guessed how frustrating it must have been for his father, although he never complained.
His mother was impossible to satisfy. The atmosphere between his parents had been tense for years, but his father never talked to him about their arguments, while his mother frequently told him how unhappy she was, with dark hints about the future.
Danilo was sorry he couldn’t spend more time with her once she arrived, but as a lowly intern the demands on him were intense.
He tried to have lunch or dinner with her once a week, but the rest of the time he was busy and working, and it depressed him to spend a lot of time with her.
She was never happy, and he got the feeling that now she wanted him to give her the time and emotional support that her husband hadn’t given her for years.
Danilo felt he couldn’t be responsible for that now.
She was a good-looking woman, only in her late forties.
If she wanted more than what she had materially and socially, she was going to have to create a life for herself and not expect someone else to provide it and hand it to her ready-made.
She needed to make some effort herself. She felt that everyone owed her something, and she didn’t want to put any effort into it.
Danilo went upstairs to her apartment in their building when he came back from a two-day shift at the hospital.
He knew she’d be having breakfast and she was surprised by his visit, but happy to see him, as they sat on the small balcony of her tiny apartment.
She had already told him before that it gave her headaches to be so confined.
She needed a bigger apartment to thrive.
But they had been careful with their money that was already in Spain, since Danilo’s paychecks as an intern were meager.
His father still supported him. So Danilo and Iryna had to be careful, which she found depressing too.
In Kyiv she used to go shopping almost every day as the wife of a successful doctor.
She couldn’t do that now in Spain. But she hoped she could soon, if the war ended.
There were peace talks but they had led nowhere so far.
“I haven’t heard from your father lately,” she complained.
“He has very irregular cell service,” Danilo reminded her.
“I told him we’ll need more money soon.” His father was always very generous so Danilo was sure he would send more as soon as he could.
Iryna took the war personally, since everything was always about her.
It was what had finally turned Anton away from her, which his son understood.
His mother was never grateful for anything.
“I want to talk to you about my plans, Mama,” he said quietly.
“What plans?” She looked surprised.
“I told you before that I want to go back to Kyiv when the war is over, but it’s taking longer than I thought.
I didn’t want to interrupt my studies and internship to fight the war, although I felt guilty about it, and Papa agreed with me.
He didn’t want me to give up my internship either.
But I do want to go back now, for a visit.
My boss at the hospital gave me permission to take a leave.
I’ve already spoken to my school, and they agreed.
My internship ends in two months. I’m almost finished.
They’ll let me go now, and give me credit for the remaining two months as compassionate leave.
Maybe I can help Papa at the hospital while I’m there.
I don’t know how long I’ll stay. But I’m finished with my internship.
Maybe I can do some humanitarian medical work in Ukraine now, and be useful there.
And I want to add a subspecialty to my practice of surgery.
” Danilo had always wanted to be a surgeon like his father.
“I’m adding trauma and emergency medicine, and the university here will give me credit for the work I do in Ukraine, and count it as my residency.
So I won’t be interrupting my training, I’ll be doing it in Ukraine. ”
“How long are you planning to stay there?” she asked. She wasn’t happy for him, she was worried about herself.
“I don’t know. It depends what I find to do there.
Maybe I can work through the same hospital as Papa, or for the Red Cross, or one of the refugee groups.
Maybe three months, or six, or a year. After that, I’ll figure out where I want to live and continue my residency.
I’d like to stay in Kyiv, but I don’t know what will be possible, or when the war will end, or even if Papa is going to stay.
Maybe it’s too disrupted and he’ll want to practice somewhere else and I can join him there.
Maybe Warsaw, or somewhere else in Europe.
I haven’t been able to talk to him about it.
Three of my friends in the internship program want to go with me.
Two are Spanish, one is French. We’re going to leave sometime next week.
I wanted to give you warning so you know my plans.
I worked it all out yesterday, but I had already talked to the university about it a while ago, so I didn’t have to wait a long time for their permission. I have it now.”
“You could have talked to me before,” Iryna said with pursed lips.
Danilo didn’t leave her any room for argument.
He had worked it all out himself before speaking to her, intentionally.
He didn’t want to fight with her about it.
He had made up his mind, and had a plan, and the university had approved it. He hadn’t even told his father yet.
“It’s a mess there, you know,” she said, “and the war could go on for years.”
“That’s why I’m going, to help with the mess.
They need doctors desperately. There are a lot of wounded people there, and children.
I’m keeping my apartment here for now, until I know how long I’ll be there, and where I’m going after that.
The apartment is so inexpensive, I don’t think Papa will object.
” And hers was the same price. They were spending almost nothing on rent in a mostly student-occupied building near the hospital and the university.
The building was not well maintained but acceptable, and had been useful for both of them, even if not up to her usual standards.
Danilo’s expectations were more reasonable.
“And what am I supposed to do now?” she said angrily. “Just sit here in this matchbox and wait for you?”
“That’s why I’m telling you now, Mother, so you know my plans.
I may come back to Spain or I may not. If they give me credit for my residency in Ukraine, then I don’t have to come back to Spain at all.
I could stay there for a year or longer, if Papa wants to stay too.
I don’t know if I would stay in Ukraine, or work somewhere else.
And I don’t know now where that would be.
That leaves you the opportunity not to sit in Spain, waiting for me.
You could stay, if you like, or you could go to Warsaw, or any city you want.
London, Paris, Berlin, Rome. It’s entirely up to you.
” In addition to Ukrainian, Iryna spoke some Russian, some Polish, and German, which she had learned in school.
She seemed to do better in countries where she spoke the language.
And she could manage with very rudimentary English. “Where do you think you’d want to go?”
“I don’t know. I have to think about it.
I have to work some things out with your father first, financially.
” She had hinted at a divorce, but hadn’t officially told her son yet.
She and Anton had never discussed it again since she left.
Anton didn’t want to talk about it over the phone, and he was exhausted every time he spoke to her during the war.
They would have to discuss it now. “Won’t it be dangerous for you there, even as a doctor?
” she asked him, sounding like a mother at last. She always thought of herself first, unlike Anton, who thought of everyone but himself.