Chapter 1

So, my name is Masha Berry, and I live in an ordinary residential neighborhood of a major regional city, in a nondescript little two-bedroom apartment. I’m twenty-four years old. I don’t have a husband, I don’t have a job anymore, but I do have two wonderful five-year-old children. Twins, Leshka and Dashka. And you know what? These little munchkins are so wonderful, anyone would envy me. I don’t need anyone else. I’ve had enough. I got burned—badly, so badly it’s still smoldering. More precisely, the feelings have been gone for a long time; all that’s left is ash. But the life lesson remains.

I inherited the little two-bedroom apartment from my parents. Six years ago, our whole family still lived there—Mom, Dad, and me. We had a good life, close-knit, and then Dad died of a heart attack. He was there in the morning and gone by evening, leaving Mom and me alone, two little blades of grass. I was a second-year university student then and had been planning to switch to correspondence courses so I could help Mom with work, but it turned out I was the one who needed help.

I remember Mom’s bewildered face and Grandma’s down-to-earth calm—she ran the family, and Grandpa still did whatever she said.

“Mom, I can’t believe it. What will people say?” That question came from my mother, not me—she was asking her own mother. “She’s only eighteen. She got burned, and now her whole life is upside down. If only Petya were alive, he’d make that Kirill marry her!”

“I don’t want to!”

“Shut it, Marushka!”—that was Grandma. Then, back to Mom:

“Why should you care what people say?! Some people are like skinny dogs: if they can’t make something up, they’ll lie about it! Our Marusya isn’t the first girl this has happened to, is she? What century are you living in, Lyuska? The twenty-first! Everyone keeps to their own yard. They’ll wag their tongues and forget. And if you talk Masha into changing her mind now, she’ll never forgive you afterward! Look how she’s dug in her heels: she’s having the baby. And she isn’t some orphan, either. Grandpa and I will help. She’s a good girl; she won’t be alone anyway. Your grandmother raised six children after the war without a man to support her. And look—they all turned out fine. It’s just one baby; we’ll raise it, Lyus! Look at Grandpa—he’s already shed a happy tear. His only granddaughter, and his favorite.”

But there turned out to be two babies—what a surprise. I remember being afraid to leave the ultrasound room and tell Mom. I just stood there shuffling at the door. When I finally came out, Mom gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. What could she do? And Grandma said, “Well, it’s not six, Lyuska! Don’t cry—we’ll raise them! Twins run in our family—I was one too.”

Anyway, I transferred to correspondence courses and finished college. Barely, but I got my engineering degree. I lived in the village for four years, coming into the city for exams and holidays, and a year ago I finally moved back with the kids. I mean, was I supposed to raise them in the village? By then Mom had married Nikolai Ivanovich and moved in with him in the neighboring residential district.

Grandma’s place is nice, of course, but kids need to socialize—preschool, activities, school. Leshka’s a real little man—give him his way and he’d live with Grandpa in his old Zhiguli, fishing poles and all, while Dashka’s a little lady. All she wants is dance classes, friends, and dolls.

They’re curious, my little berries. And they look like me too—blue-eyed and smiley. Their heads are a little darker, though, but what can you do? You can’t argue with nature.

But you can argue with a person. Sometimes you have to. Especially someone you used to love, but now… No, you don’t hate him. It’s just that one day he disappointed you so completely he ceased to exist. As if someone erased him from your life with an eraser—zip! Gone. A clean slate! And you can move on, practically whistling.

If only I could get a good job!

Besides, time had passed, and things had gotten easier—my heart hadn’t warmed back up exactly, but it had thawed. I’d learned to look people in the eye again. Look at me—even dreams of a questionable nature had started showing up. All kinds of feather beds, plus a man in a golden mist making shameless suggestions. As if the only thing that man needed for complete happiness in that mist was a little Marusya!

Oh, but he was gorgeous!

The little Daewoo squealed its brakes and came to a stop, nose dipping, in front of a tall office building.

“We’re here!” Natasha barked. “Out, Berry!”

When I jumped out of the car and raced toward the broad steps, Fairy opened her door, leaned out after me, and yelled:

“Good luck, Mashka! May you work at your new job for, oh, two hundred years! Break a leg! To hell with it! No pasarán, girl!” She shook a fist over her head. “O-ole, ole-ole-ole-ee-ee, Marushka, you’re a champion! Kii-ya! Banzai! Hooray! Wan-sui!!”

“Who-oo?!” I stumbled and slipped when my heel hit the icy crust. My legs nearly went out from under me as I turned. “What the hell am I supposed to stick where?!”

The people hurrying toward the entrance stumbled, too, and gaped.

“Feyakina, have you lost your mind?!” I hissed, discreetly circling a finger beside my temple. “Shoo, you drunks!”

Natasha dove into the car and squeaked apologetically, “Okay, I’m leaving.” Then she sped off.

I sighed, took my bag off my shoulder, adjusted my hat, and trudged toward the security checkpoint.

“8:00”

Oops! Not trudged. Ran!