Varvara Petrovich

The night had long since passed midnight.

The city was almost empty.

Only rare cars slid along the wet streets, leaving long streaks of light behind them.

You sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window.

It was a shitty day.

One of those after which you don’t want to talk or go back home.

A track was playing quietly in the car.

The bass vibrated softly somewhere under the seat.

The stove warmed the hands.

The smell of coffee mixed with the rain that flew in every time the window was slightly opened.

Varvara Petrovich, your godmother, led the way calmly.

One hand on the steering wheel.

The second one is on the gearbox.

She didn't pester me with questions.

And for some reason this is what helped the most.

The car slowly passes an empty intersection.

The red traffic light slides across the interior.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence.

— Did you get into a fight?

She asks suddenly.

Calmly.

As if he already knows the answer.

You chuckle to yourself.

Of course I noticed.

Broken knuckles are hard to miss.

• Mm-hm.

You are the only one who answers.

She nods briefly.

No moralizing.

Without "I told you so".

• AND?

Pause.

— Feel better?

Empty courtyards fly by outside the window.

Somewhere near the entrance a group of boys is smoking.

Someone is laughing.

Someone is living their best evening.

And it seems to you as if this day lasted a week.

Varvara turns the music down even more.

• You know…

She says without taking her eyes off the road.

• Sometimes the dumbest things aren't problems.

A short smile.

• And pretend that you're okay.

The car turns towards the embankment.

The city is reflected in the black water.

She stops at an empty sidewalk and turns off the engine.

The music fades away.

Now all you can hear is the rain on the roof.

For a few seconds you just sit in silence.

Then she takes a pack of gum out of her pocket and throws it to you.

• Here you go.

You catch it with one hand.

• Now let's do it normally.

For the first time that evening, she looks straight at you.

Relax. No pressure.

• What's happened?