Olezhyk
Adults are weird…
They make us keep a strict schedule: wake up at eight in the morning, eat lunch at one-thirty, go to bed at nine at night. But they do everything the opposite way themselves: eat fried bacon for breakfast, wash it down with coffee and sugar, and go to sleep after midnight.
I just can’t understand it.
Of course, I can’t speak for everyone, but my father is a vicious violator of his own routine. First of all, he definitely doesn’t go to bed at nine, and he wakes up earlier than anyone. He barely rests, works all the time, and most importantly, he never eats oatmeal. But he feeds it to me and my sister every single morning.
Bleh, what disgusting stuff… Brr.
Why can’t we eat pastries for breakfast like they show in commercials? And anyway, why show lying commercials at all?
Liars.
I’m already four years old, and I still don’t understand. What nonsense.
Oh, I promised Father I wouldn’t talk like that anymore. That’s it, I won’t, this is the last time.
“Good morning, Wunderkind,” the bedroom door opens. Father stands in the doorway, dressed in a business suit as always, his hair all tousled like he didn’t even bother brushing it.
My dad is handsome, but he still can’t find us a mother.
I sigh.
“Hi, Daddy, did you sleep well?” I smile.
I know he barely slept, because he came home late. I heard everything.
“Great. And you?” He comes closer and sits on the bed. He’s smiling, but I don’t believe his good mood. I can feel how tired he really is. Nobody helps Daddy, not at work and not at home. I don’t count the nannies. Their IQ is less than thirty-two percent—they can’t even turn on the washing machine. Sometimes I turn it on myself. Good thing Grandma Katya, our neighbor who sometimes watches me and my sister while Daddy works, showed us how before she got sick.
I sigh…
How badly I want her varenyky, her little pies, and her candy. I hope Grandma gets better soon and comes back to us with Aurora.
“What are your plans for today?” He offers me his hand. He always does that because he says I’m a man and should live up to some kind of status.
I have no idea what that means, but I figured out it’s something important. Once, almost a year ago, because of that, I learned to read by myself. Almost by myself—Grandma Katya helped. She told me the letters, and after that I did the rest. I used to hide under the blanket at night with a flashlight and read syllable by syllable.
“None. Are you working today?” No point asking, since I already know the answer.
“Yes, today. But tomorrow I’m free all day, and we can go to the park and skate!” He ruffles my cheek, baby-talks to me like I’m some tiny child.
I hate when he does that!
I roll my eyes, puff out my lips, and angrily fold my arms across my chest.
“All right, all right, I won’t anymore.” He laughs. “I know you don’t like being treated that way, but your little sister doesn’t mind.”
“Because my little sister is still little, and I’m grown-up!” I mutter.
“Of course, you’re older. By a whole two minutes.” He bursts out laughing, gets off the bed, and heads for the door. “I’m going to wake Aurora up, and you get moving too, because if you’re late for kindergarten, I’ll call Milana.”
I kick off the blanket with my feet, jump up, and while Daddy can still see me, I run to the bathroom.
Brr… anything but Milana!
Or is Father joking again? I can’t tell.
His jokes aren’t funny at all, if you ask me. And who would want to be with a man who makes unfunny jokes? That’s probably why we don’t have a mother.
I’m no expert, but from the things Grandma Katya says, I understood the following: a man should be handsome, witty, smart, healthy, and without children.
My father fits only two categories: smart and healthy. No, also handsome—the most handsome—and brave.
Sometimes I think the reason he acts like this is because he’s lonely. Honestly, I’ve heard a lot of versions while hiding in the closet, but I still don’t know which one is true. That upsets me. It hurts, a little lower than my throat, when moms come to pick up my friends from kindergarten, while we get collected by Father’s security guard or another disgusting nanny on duty.
I asked several times where our mother is, but I never got an answer.
I sigh…
It’s sad even to think about it.
One time I overheard Grandma Katya saying our mother gave us up and ran away from Father because he was bad. But I never found any proof of those words. And I don’t believe Daddy is bad. That can’t be true. He takes care of us.
Besides, who’s going to tell the truth to a four-year-old boy? Nobody! Even though people often call me little Wunderkind. Daddy even took me to a specialist once because he was afraid I was sick.
“Olezhyk,” Aurora whispers. “I knew you weren’t asleep anymore,” and the head of my own dear little sister appears.
We’re twins. We share one birthday, but I’m older. She’s a good sister, but not a smart one. Aurora still can’t read like I can. All she has in her head is LOL dolls.
Tiptoeing, she runs into the room, darts quickly to the bathroom, and pulls the door almost shut.
“Did you come up with a way to get rid of the nanny?” she whispers. She frowns, clutching her little LOL doll to her chest.
A child…
“Yes.” I nod. “At breakfast I’ll ask Father to sign us up for self-defense classes. I saw an ad.”
“Self… what?” She stares at me.
I sigh. Girls are so uneducated, it’s awful. I’ll have to explain.
“They’re classes where you can learn how to protect yourself from attackers.”
“Oleh, can you explain normally, because I don’t understand.”
“All right,” I roll my eyes, “the kids in your group pick on you, right?” She nods. “And sometimes the boys even hit you?”
“It happens.” She droops, lowers her eyes, and sighs heavily.
“And those classes will help you learn how to hit back.”
She raises her head and smiles slyly. She always does that when she likes an idea.
“Even Sydorenko?” she asks in a whisper.
“Yep.”
“Cool. I’m in. Okay, see you at breakfast.”
She bounces in place a few times and disappears out the door.
Girls are so interesting, and most importantly impatient. She didn’t even listen to how exactly it would help us, and she already agreed.
I shut the door tightly, turn the key, and take off my pajamas. I climb onto the special stool in front of the sink and look myself over. I’m handsome, and smart, and witty, and most importantly without children, so I think it’ll be easy for me to conquer girls. My hair is black, my eyes are green, my lips are kind of thin and my arms aren’t muscular, but I still like myself.
One hundred percent handsome!
Who could refuse beauty like this? Right—nobody! Except Mom…
I sigh…
For the last month, I haven’t been able to stop thinking that I want to help Daddy find a wife, and for me and my sister—a stepmother, a good stepmother.
I take out my toothbrush and toothpaste. I brush my teeth really well and keep glancing at myself in the mirror.
“Rr-r, I’m a tiger!” I clamp the toothbrush between my teeth.
Ten minutes of water procedures. Then I switch into Superman mode: dry off, get dressed, and five minutes later I’m sitting at the kitchen table.
Father, as always, is at the center of the table, me on one side, a sullen Aurora on the other.
“Kids, I won’t be able to pick you up from kindergarten today, so Milana will come.”
“Daddy,” Aurora whines, “let it be Maksym instead, huh?” She props her chin on her palm and blinks rapidly, rapidly.
Oh no. Not that.
I shake my head and press my lips together. Girls…
How many times do I have to explain to her that you don’t argue right away like that—you wait for the right moment?!
Ugh, nonsense. Oh…
“My little blood,” Father says in a stern voice, “this is already the twelfth nanny in the last month. And if she also runs away from you with a broken nose, food poisoning, or worse, a beating, I’ll put you into aftercare.”
And now is the moment!
“Sorry, Daddy, Aurora didn’t say it right.”
I straighten my shoulders, gather my courage, and under Father’s sharp gaze continue:
“Very recently, at the sports complex where we go to dance, we saw a notice about self-defense lessons. And we really want to sign up for them, that’s why Aurora said that.”
He looks at me for a few seconds, raises his brows, and starts laughing.
I see. No self-defense.
I knew it.
I hunch my head into my shoulders and start eating the disgusting porridge. I can feel my nose stinging and tears almost spilling from my eyes, so I chew hard. I’m a man, and men don’t cry!
“Seriously? You two, in self-defense classes?!” He keeps laughing.
I’m telling you, my father has a terrible sense of humor. And the main thing is, he doesn’t understand that all these women from the agencies dream only of taking his money. I’m not lying—I heard it myself when Milana was talking on the phone, and I told Father. But he didn’t believe me. He even punished me, horror of horrors! I was banned from the library for two whole days.
What nonsense.
Oh!
“Oleh,” and he drags my name out so strangely that I already regret starting this conversation, “do you think that after you flooded the house with washing-machine foam and fried Inna’s hair like cracklings, I’m going to let you take self-defense classes? Why? So you can blow the apartment into the air too?”
“But I apologized,” I lower my eyes to my plate.
“Yes, enough. No self-defense. The most you can count on is chess!”
And he looks at me in such a way that I want to hide in Grandma Katya’s arms. I know Father loves us, because he always forgives our antics, but he doesn’t understand that everything we do is only to help.
“M-m.” Aurora sticks out her tongue.
A little girl…
“Oleh, tell me please, where is my tablet?” Father asks after a few minutes of silence.
Oh-oh…
“I was reading an article about the mayor yesterday.” Idiot! How could I forget to put it back?
“Which article?” He’s testing me.
“The one about the construction of the new tourist complex near the Triumph resort.”
“And what do you think about it?” He sets down his fork and knife.
This is a disaster… a final one.
Father’s phone starts ringing on the table.
Phew…
“Hello, yes, in twenty minutes…”
Dad sinks into work. He gets up from his chair and heads into the living room.
I jump to my feet, grab my bowl, and quickly dump the porridge into the trash. In a flash, I return and sit back down in my place.
“Dummy, that’s not fair,” my sister pouts.
“You need to daydream less and catch the moment.”
I calmly, almost majestically, drink my Nesquik as if nothing happened.
“Did I tell you I know how to find us a mom?” she pokes around in her porridge with her spoon.
“And how?” Probably some nonsense.
“In three weeks it’ll be New Year’s, and that means what?” She claps her hands and rolls her eyes. “Saint Nicholas will come!”
I knew it.
“Aurora, Saint Nicholas doesn’t go anywhere and doesn’t hand out gifts!” Really, a child.
“But Daddy says you have to use every possible option. I don’t really understand what that means,” she makes a face, “but I’m going to write a letter asking, and you do whatever you want! M-m.” She sticks out her tongue.
“Write it, but don’t expect more than a doll,” I grumble, because I don’t even have a plan as silly as that.
“Ha, we’ll see!” She throws a tangerine at me.
“We’ll see!” I stick out my tongue and throw the fruit back.
A spoon flies at me—I dodge. Then an apple hits me in the forehead and I fall to the floor.
“Rr-r.” I fume. I get to my feet and immediately freeze in place. Daddy is standing in the doorway, glaring menacingly at the mess we’ve made.
Oh-oh…
