[1950, in a crowded cafe of Moscow]
"Vadka, is that you?"
Vadim startled when his name called. Nobody has dared to call like that except several person in his lifetime. He put down his cutlery, and lifted his head. A young woman in sleek black hair approached him, as she put down her plate with one course of meal. Her striking blue eyes connected with his deeply.
"...Who are you?" asked Vadim, trying to dig his memory once again.
"Zinka. Yeah, you may remembered me as teenager. And... maybe you forget me too, I understand..." sighed that woman.
"Zinka?" Vadim twitched his eyes. "Tell me if you are really her."
"Our oldest brother, Eduard, will always playing the song with his balalaika. Mark and I always playing ball outside. And you... I remembered you try to learn singing. Your voice is awful, but you are fast learner when Eduard taught you not to be tone deaf. After he went missing in war, you picked up that balalaika and learn further..."
Vadim's muscles relaxed slowly. He examines her face, realising that she is indeed his youngest sister. But he didn't stood up and hug her. He just... choose to pick up his cutlery and continued eating. She follows his movements too, and they are eating in silence.
"So... you found me. What will you do about it now?"
"I thanked you to still alive. That's all."
"Not going to beg me to go home and reconcile?"
"For what?" the question from Zinaida stopped Vadim's munch.
"Well... I thought our parents still alive. Maybe mom missed me, maybe that old man still cursing me."
"He died seventeen years ago. Or two years after you and Mark ran away from home. And mom passed away five years ago in illness."
The announcement doesn't flinched Vadim. He just quietly sliced the croquette and continued to eating. "Tell me more."
Zinaida also continued eating as she says, "After you two ran away, the old man now always cursing for my late birth. That I should have born first instead you. I still endured it by busying myself with school organisations, then study law major in uni... but still, I feel like our dacha become pits of hell each day."
Vadim's gaze now filled with pity, when Zinaida chuckled in grim, "And one day around June 1933... I was still at uni during evening, and suddenly mom appears. She invites me to stay in hotel for several days before finding new communal. I am somewhat concerned that old man might destroy anything in that old dacha and mom has to ran away. But mom insisted... so I obeyed her. Later when we entered the hotel... mom explained; that old man suddenly fell from bathroom, showing symptoms of stroke. And mom... she decided to pack things up, get the money savings and leave..."
The food still munched normally. No more stopping after hearing Zinaida's confession. Vadim almost pull a smile, but he trying his best to held it.
"Ah..."
"Staying in different district of Usolye-Sibirskoye was enough for us. No one asked about the old man to us till I graduated and got a job."
"And how did mom passed away, Zinka?"
"Normal illness. Some complications here and there. Thankfully she passed away after I married my husband. I don't have regrets anymore..."
"... You know... if I have any regrets... I do have one. I lost my chance to tell mom that I didn't meant to leave you and her... And thanks to that old man... his presence haunted me forever. Till now, I need the medicine to dampen his voice. And I start to think mom resents me too."
The small bottle of white pills are taken out of Vadim's pocket. Zinaida loss at words for several minutes to read the prescription written on that glass small bottle. But then shook her head and pulled a sad smile, "Good news is... Mom never held grudge to you and Mark. She still love you from your birth till her death."
"Still..."
"She only reminds me to know my worth more than just superstitions, and never pass any heirloom related to our family. I believe that message applied to you and Mark, too..."
The plates in front of them now completely clean. The glasses of tea are less than fifty milliliters. Vadim realised his time to go home, reuniting with his wife and daughters almost near.
"One last question... have you meet Mark yet? I only remembered he stayed at Leningrad."
"Leningrad? No luck when several times visits there before war. But I will assume he has finding his muse at some workshop. He love mechanic stuff as a teen."
"I think so too. And now... so... I guess this is our first and last meeting."
"Yeah, I'm afraid so. I have married too, moving to different town and finding better life. I... can't tell you the exact location."
"That's... Good to hear. Though if we ever meet again one day... don't reject my offer to buy you some dessert next time."
And thus, they separated again after both of them stacked the empty plates neatly, and leave that cafe with opposite direction...
Forever, without farewell.