I wrote such a heading because when I became a teenager, Papa was no longer for me the beloved, dear one whom I could not wait for from work, did not sleep if he came late… All that remained in childhood. I already had a sister. At that time she was considered a “late” child. She was born when Mama was 36 and Papa 45.
Before her birth they “improved” our housing conditions. We moved into a separate one-room apartment, bathroom combined with toilet, on the fourth floor. And the hardest moment of that life was Papa’s going on pension. Or rather, “they went him” or as they say now “they set him up.” This affected our material situation, and Mama’s attitude to Papa, how shall I put it more softly now… changed…. not for the better. Well, and I took Mama’s position and “struck the same pretentious poses as she did!” (Lord! If you knew, those reading these lines, how ashamed I am now, how bitter, how hurt I am at my stupid behaviour!)
The family was conditionally divided: Mama and I, and the “unconscious” four-five-year-old little sister was “Papa’s.” Papa continued to work at the plant, already had a fixed working day and could devote his free time to the little daughter, who adored him and protected him from our “attacks.”
I remembered a “flagrant case.” Once Papa and my sister went for a walk in the centre of Kiev. (In those times Khreshchatyk really was a promenade for Kievans and guests.) And somehow they were long in returning. We began to worry… (there were no telephones!). They came home late; Papa was drunk with a broken bridge of the nose! From the explanations of the four-year-old sister we understood that he stumbled coming out of the trolleybus and fell in such a way as not to hit her!
Our indignation knew no bounds: “how dare he, drunk!” almost killed the child! Mama and I withdrew to the kitchen and could not calm down… When complete silence had already set in, we decided they had fallen asleep, open the kitchen door and see… Papa sleeping and the little sister not sleeping, sitting by his head, having pressed her little handkerchief to the bridge of his nose, and with the other little hand stroking his head…
…… continuation tomorrow…