Tata

The Orphanage

It was around eight in the morning.

Shota slowly opened his eyes. The air smelled damp, and the room was cold outside the warmth of his blanket.

After a while, he finally gathered enough courage to throw the blanket aside.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees on the bed, then grabbed the edge of the mattress and lowered his head to look at the bunk below, where his brother was sleeping.

Or rather, Yuta had already woken up. He was staring at the underside of Shota's bed, lost in thought.

"Morning," Shota mumbled.

Yuta returned the greeting in a voice as cold as the room itself.

With a quick movement, Shota jumped down from the upper bunk and crawled under his brother's blanket so they could keep each other warm.

Footsteps echoed from outside their room.

It was Mr. Henderson, the orphanage's caretaker. Though, to be fair, he hardly resembled one.

He was usually in a foul mood, with a cigar perpetually resting at the corner of his mouth. He rarely cared what the children were doing. Whether they were reading books or throwing firecrackers beneath unsuspecting pedestrians' feet made little difference to him.

Mr. Henderson flung the door open.

"Tata! If you want any breakfast, get up and move!"

"Yes, sir," the two answered in unison, dragging themselves out of bed and leaving the room without much enthusiasm.

In the dining room, the other children were already gathered around the table. A few more were slowly joining them, roused from sleep by Mr. Henderson's booming voice.

When four-year-old Finn arrived, all eighteen children had finally gathered around the table.

Lara, the oldest girl in the orphanage at fourteen, began serving breakfast.

The food was hardly appetizing, but it was better than going hungry.

Mr. Henderson took his coat from the hook beside the door and turned to the children.

"I need to stop by the company. Another kid's being brought here around ten. Look after him."

He put on his hat and left.

The children exchanged glances but said nothing. They simply returned to their breakfast.

After the meal, Mary and Michael collected and washed the dishes while everyone else went about their business.

Not that there was much to do in that small house.

At nine fifty, the doorbell rang.

Lara went to answer it.

Standing outside was a woman of average height, dressed in a long red coat. Behind her stood a little boy who was clutching her coat with a tight fist.

"Nick, you have to stay here," the woman told him.

"But I don't want to leave you."

"Neither do I, sweetheart. But we have no choice."

The boy looked up at his mother, his eyes filling with tears.

She guided him inside, placed his bag beside the door, and turned toward the street without looking back at him.

After walking a few steps, she stopped.

"I hope you have a better life here."

Then she hurried away.

Nick struggled to swallow his tears, desperately trying to pull himself together. But when he turned toward the room, he found a crowd of children of all ages staring at him.

That was when he finally broke down.

Lara gently wrapped her arms around him.

"It's okay, little one. We'll take care of you here."

From the top of the staircase, Tata had witnessed the entire scene. Neither of them showed much interest, and they simply returned to their room.

They were drawing.

Yuta was sketching while Shota colored the pictures when the door suddenly opened.

It was Lara.

"Tata, this is Nick. He's just joined us. Would you mind letting him stay with you?"

Without even looking at each other, both brothers nodded.

Lara led Nick into the room and left them alone.

Tata studied the boy carefully.

According to Mr. Henderson, Nick was around six years old, though he was a little shorter than most children his age.

His clothes were neat and well-kept. It didn't look as though his mother had abandoned him because of poverty.

His eyes were red and puffy from crying.

"Why did they bring you here?" Shota asked bluntly.

"Shota!" Yuta immediately scolded him. "That's rude."

Nick took a breath before answering.

"My parents got divorced. My mom's new husband doesn't want me living with them, and my dad has a new wife and children of his own now."

"That's a sad story," Shota remarked.

Just then, the sound of the front door opening came from downstairs.

Mr. Henderson was back.

Tata and Nick went downstairs.

Mr. Henderson gave Nick a brief, half-hearted welcome before heading into the living room. He dropped into the single armchair in front of the television and began flipping through the channels.

Tata and Nick sat on the bottom step of the staircase.

"Who's that man?" Nick asked.

"Mr. Henderson. He's in charge of this place."

"He doesn't look like someone who's in charge."

"He's been like that ever since we got here."

Michael's voice came from above them.

"He wasn't always like that."

The others looked up.

"Mr. Henderson used to be cheerful. Kind, even. Before he lost his wife and daughters in a car accident."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"After that, he became depressed. He decided to take in orphaned children who had nowhere else to go and let them live in his big house."

Michael glanced toward the living room.

"He owns a company nearby. He only visits a few times a month to check on the finances and expenses. The company makes enough money to keep this place running."

He sighed.

"Poor man. He used to be much kinder."

Tata and Nick turned to look at Mr. Henderson.

It was difficult to imagine that this depressed man, who sat smoking his cigar and switching television channels with an expression of complete indifference, had ever been happy.

"Anyway, you'd better not get on his nerves," Michael added. "He's not the kind of man who'll be nice to you anymore."

Lara passed by with a basket of laundry in her arms.

"Why don't you take Nick out into the yard and show him around?"

A little later, Nick and Shota were sitting on the swings in the yard, while Yuta sat on the ground in front of them.

Nick suddenly spoke, his voice still hoarse from crying.

"Why does everyone call both of you Tata? Don't you have separate names?"

"Yeah," they replied.

"But that doesn't make sense."

Both brothers answered at the same time.

"We're both Tata."

Nick looked slightly taken aback, but eventually accepted the strange explanation.

"You two look so much alike. Can anyone even tell you apart?"

"No one has ever managed to."

"Wait... are you actually the same person?"

"Maybe."

Nick let out a quiet laugh.

For Tata, that small laugh was enough.

They were glad they had managed to make Nick feel a little better.