very un-Soviet things, Dina had no idea. And why, despite all this, her mother did not follow her own principles, was a mystery too.
Dina dressed with her mom’s help. Her mother sewed or re-sewed from her own clothes the items she thought a metropolitan student needed.
This included a formal suit, a few blouses, a few skirts, and an evening dress, of course. Only the outerwear and shoes were bought in the stores. Well, and the underwear, of course. For those things, Dina’s mom selflessly saved money from her modest salary, often denying herself some nice trifle.
“Sweetie,” her mom would say when Dina would try and dissuade her from a new purchase, “Dinochka, I’ve already proven myself, but you need to make a statement: a fine dress helps to impress!” And she would laugh a bright, child-like laugh.
Nevertheless, even with such a low assessment of her appearance, Dina did not think that she was any worse than the people around her.
“I’m just different from the rest.” She comforted herself this way until she got used to this self-identification, which worked like a filter, capturing and rejecting unwanted thoughts and feelings about her appearance, which were nothing but a distraction from life itself, so beautiful and amazing in all its aspects.
“Even girls worse-looking than me get married.” She would tell herself when she noticed an engagement ring on the finger of a really homely woman.
Until one day, her Inner Voice said in response, “All sorts of people get married… but is that what you want?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you really need someone to put a ring on your finger? Is that the extent of your dreams?”
Dina thought about it and replied, “No. I don’t think so.”
“So what is your dream?”
Dina thought about it again. “I want to love and be loved.”
“There you have it,” said the Inner Voice. “Being married does not necessarily mean loving and being loved. The reverse is also true: mutual love does not always imply marriage.”
“Really?” Dina was surprised.
On Family and Love
Like all girls, Dina of course thought about love and happiness, and about a family that she would someday have. She mentally tried on some guys as potential husbands, only the ones that she liked, of course.
Take Sergey, for example, who was the son of her mom’s friend Albina. He was four years older than Dina and they had known each other since early childhood.
* * *
When she was five years old, Dina realized that she loved Sergey.
She understood this by the indescribable happiness that she felt whenever her mom mentioned Albina, and any discussions of plans to do with Albina, which meant that Dina would see Sergey, and that her joy meant love. For what is love without joy?
Sergey was kind and sweet, and looked after her from the position of his age and life experience, after all, he was already going to school and knew a great deal.
Sergey took Dina to the movies, holding her hand. In the cinema bar, he bought her a soda with a bright yellow, thick syrup, a flaky pastry, always the most golden one, sprinkled with large granules of sugar, and then wiped her lips with a handkerchief and brushed the crumbs off the collar of her dress.
Sometimes Sergey would read Dina his favorite books, and those were the happiest hours of their time together. Dina watched Sergey’s lips and often did not even understand what the book was about, but this was not important. It was not for someone’s adventures, even if they were fascinating, that she was sitting here next to her precious Sergey!
But then Albina remarried and moved far away to Kamchatka, taking Sergey with her. Dina mourned him for a long time and wrote him long missives using printed letters. Albina had sent one of the letters back to Dina’s mom a few years ago, as a keepsake.
Dina read it and laughed through her tears. “Helo Sergy. Today I went to the movees at 4 oclok. The movee was reely good. I reely liked it. Hau r yu? What movee did yu cee? I mis yu alot. Big kises. Yor Dina.”
Every word was written in a pencil of a different color, and the letter was a kaleidoscope of uneven letters and rainbow colors.
They next met at the seaside in Anapa, and Dina knew that Sergey was the love of her life.
Nevertheless, in fourth grade, Dina unexpectedly found herself in love with a boy with black curls, called Vova Gladstein, who appeared in their class in the middle of the year, and then disappeared just as suddenly in the middle of the following year.
“The father was transferred” was the reason for such comings and goings of several schoolchildren in Dina’s class, her school, and her town.
Vova went away and a gaping emptiness was left in her soul. Then Dina remembered Sergey and her heart went back to him once more. But not for long…
She fell in love again in eighth grade.
With Valera Revyakin, who was repeating the year, the biggest troublemaker at the school and a headache for all the teachers.
Why did he treat Dina in the same way that Sergey did all those years ago? He cared, and protected her – even though there was not much need for it – and Dina liked his touching solicitude.
It was interesting to hang out with him, as he told her different stories from his life, which made her blood run cold, and half of which, Dina later decided, were either made up or not Valera’s stories at all.
Then he moved away after completing ninth grade.
Dina remembered their farewell: her tears, which she could not hold back, his kiss on the lips, which she treasured for a long time.
“We’re moving really far away, to another country,” said Valera to Dina, making her swear an oath to keep this a secret, “so I won’t be able to write to you.”
Dina started writing to Sergey again.
The correspondence with Sergey somehow faded away on its own, and resumed only when Dina received a wedding invitation from him when she was already at university. She did not come, of course, for it was too far away and too expensive. She did not have the time either, not with all the lectures and exams. Nevertheless, she wrote him a warm letter and they continued to occasionally exchange news and photos.
Since then, Sergey had already gotten divorced and was not planning to marry again – or so he wrote in his letters to Dina. Dina sometimes imagined them meeting somewhere, and their old tender friendship blossoming into love, and then…
So she knew that a family started with love. This meant that someone she loved needed to be at her side. Love was forever. She did not take her mom’s experiences into account. Her mom was just unlucky for some reason.
* * *
When
