The head of the colony asked the prisoner to look after her son. She sang a melody to the boy, which strangely resonated in his memory.
Igor Petrovich felt the phone vibrate in his pocket for the third time. Finally, having dismissed his subordinates, the employees of the women’s colony, he snatched the receiver.
– Hello?
First silence, then the irritated voice of his son’s teacher:
– Igor Petrovich, this is the third time I’ve tried to get through to you!
He immediately wilted, realizing his guilt.
– Sorry, Anna Viktorovna, the meeting is dragging on. Did something happen?
– Of course, it happened, but nothing critical. Styopa has a fever. A common cold, but he can’t be in the group – he’ll infect others. Take him away, he’s been sitting in the medical office for an hour.
— Anna Viktorovna, you see, I’m at work too, I can’t just lose my temper…
— That’s your problem, Igor Petrovich. If you don’t feel sorry for a child sitting alone in the office, well, as you wish, — Anna Viktorovna answered with a firmness that sometimes bordered on rudeness.
Her parents forgave her — she was different with children: affectionate, attentive, like a second mother to each of them. The children adored her, and at home they excitedly told her what Anna Viktorovna had said or who she had praised. Friendly, obedient, well-mannered — her group was her family.
Igor Petrovich, pulling on his jacket on the go, ran out of the office and shouted to Svetlana:
— I’m going to the kindergarten to pick up Styopa. He has a fever. I won’t bring him to work, I’ll sort it out and call back.
He didn’t even hear her answer, mentally sighing: since Olga had passed away, it was as if he had done everything on the run, afraid that if he stopped, his thoughts would overwhelm him.
Olga and Svetlana were friends, they came to work at the colony together. Olga was in charge of supplies.
When Igor was transferred here, Svetlana already had a husband and a child. A year later, he and Olga got married, and he couldn’t believe his happiness. He was lucky in life – at ten, he was adopted by a good family, which rarely happened with children his age. Thanks to his adoptive mother, who looked after him, he finished school, studied, and served. After several years of work, he was transferred here, where a new life with Olga began.
When Styopa was born, Igor Petrovich was in seventh heaven. He joked about it with Olga, and she, laughing, called him a blockhead and sent him to hang up diapers. Life seemed like a fairy tale until Olga got sick.
At first she said she was just tired, but Igor noticed how she was rapidly losing weight. He signed her up for a checkup himself, leaving three-year-old Styopa with his godmother Svetlana. A few days later, the clinic called and asked him to come alone, without telling his wife. Then he realized: the fairy tale was over. The doctor said it was too late, there were a few months left, not even half a year.
When Igor returned home, he was silent, but Olga understood everything at first glance.
“Have you been to the doctor?” she asked quietly.
He nodded, feeling his heart squeeze.
“Okay,” she smiled sadly. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“You… knew?” he was speechless from her calmness.
“I didn’t know. But I guessed. From the tests…” she looked down. “Not much left.”
Igor began to cry.
She was gone two months later. A week before Styopa’s fourth birthday. They celebrated the occasion together, and when Igor put his son to bed, tears gushed for the first time since Olga hadn’t woken up.
The next day, Anna Viktorovna met him in the garden. She must have looked out the window.
“Igor Petrovich, I understand that it’s hard for you. You are raising Styopa alone, but the child needs attention,” she said sternly.
Igor smiled involuntarily. Anna Viktorovna, although strict, loved children as if they were her own.
When he picked up Styopa, he heard:
“Dad, where are we going? Home?”
“I don’t know, son. I won’t take you to work, I can’t leave you alone. I can’t even imagine what to do…”
Igor looked around, afraid to see Anna Viktorovna, and asked in a whisper:
“Maybe you should stay home and watch cartoons?” I’ll try to come back early.
Styopa smiled slyly:
– What if I want to pick up matches? Or my temperature rises? You can’t leave the children alone!
Igor grinned: he was calm about the matches, but the temperature…
– You’re right. I’ll have to take you to work with Aunt Sveta.
Styopa pouted:
– Just not to Aunt Sveta! She’ll send me to her girls, and they make me learn letters!
Svetlana had two daughters, the youngest was only six months younger than Styopa, but they both tried to boss him around like a doll.
– Do you have a better idea? – Igor raised an eyebrow.
Styopa pulled his mouth out of his scarf:
– Dad, call Aunt Nadya.
– Who?! – Igor didn’t understand right away.
— Aunt Nadya, — Styopa said seriously, straightening up. — Prisoner Vorobyova.
Igor chuckled, but then thought about it. Vorobyova wasn’t in prison for anything terrible — she just ended up with the wrong people. She was allowed to help around the house: clean, cook, in the medical center. There were no complaints about her, so she was often called in to work for the bosses.
But leaving his son with her? Igor hesitated and called Svetlana. She listened and said cautiously:
— A controversial decision, but Nadya is gold. She was never reproached. Okay, bring her, let’s talk.
Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door.