Three: The P-word

A/N: I promise I'm not shoving this down your throat, I was asked for a chapter. Hope you like it. *sniffles and wipes away tears of joy* ＾● ⋏ ●＾

“Here you go. Have some water, you'll feel better.” Nika handed the glass to the woman draped over the couch. The woman was his mother.

Most people noticed the way they looked alike.They had the same chestnut hair, with some honey coloured strands dusted at random. They looked alike except for their eyes, hers weren't amber green like his. Hers were a steely grey which had been charged with electricity once, were now drowsy and drunk.

“I need a…..mmhmm.” the woman mumbled, her words drowned out by the couch. 

“I can't hear you.” he replied, sitting down on a chair opposite to her.

The woman didn't reply and Nika took the leisure to really look at the living room furniture. He'd noticed that it was absurd since they'd moved in with his uncle 5 years ago. It was only now that he'd discovered the oddity in its true sense.

The sofa that his mother was sitting on looked like it'd been a royal navy blue once, was now a dead gray. It could only hold two people and right at the moment, his mother was draped all over it. 

In a corner, there was a really antique looking davenport with a wonky chair placed in front of it. That had belonged to Aunt Jeanine, uncle Vlad’s only wife who had been a writer for as long as she was alive. Vlad didn't speak much about her and everything Nika knew was from his uncle's drunken rants and sometimes his sleep talking.

Even from those talks, Nika had figured out how much he'd loved the woman when she'd been alive. He knew that his uncle still kept a box full of his wife's stuff in the attic.

Nika had surreptitiously gone through its contents a number of times. Never quite getting to the bottom of it and always coming back with more curiosity than before. It made him wonder about the person his uncle had been before her death. It fascinated him whenever he pieced in a fragment and unravelled a bit more of the past. A past where Aunt Jeanine still spun intriguing tales and his father still loved his mother unconditionally.

“Nika.” his mother called, snapping him out of his thoughts. She was sitting up now, her eyes lit up with a strange light he'd never seen before.

She still looked drunk but instead of the usual defeated drunk she seemed a bit off, like a determined drunk.

“Huh?” Nika asked. He was surprised that his mother had called him by his name. She usually called him a wry- ‘boy’ whenever she needed him to do something for her.

“I need you to run me a bath.” his mother requested. “Please.” she added as an afterthought.

Nika gaped at her astonished. He couldn't believe his ears. Had she just used the P-word! It was a miracle of a lifetime. This could also mean that something was really wrong.

She was looking at him with her polite request written all over her face, which was streaked with grime and dust from god-knows-where. He nodded his head in assent and got up to fill the water for the bath.

Once his mother was safely inside the confines of the bathroom, he grabbed the ancient phone and dialled for his uncle in complete panic.

Uncle Vlad picked up the phone on the fifth ring, by which time Nika was out of breath, having frantically paced the room.

“Nika? Are you alright?” Vlad asked, sounding concerned. He'd never been called in the middle of work before.

“There is something wrong with my mother.” Nika blurted. “She just turned up home early and asked me to run her a bath. Very politely.” he emphasised.

“No. No no no. Kid did you hit your head. Do you have a concussion? Vasya asked politely?! Did she hit her head? Did you check for signs of possible concussion?” Vlad sounded worried. He could feel the wrongness of the situation too.

“She called me by my name.” He pointed out. This sent his uncle into a fit of coughing, making it sound like he was choking on his own spit.

“Uncle Vlad, what should I do?” Nika was confused. He could hear the sudden silence in the house. No sound of pouring water, his mother was probably done with her bath.

“I'll be home in a bit. Keep her distracted.” was the only reply he got. 

‘Keep her distracted? It was easier said than done.’

It hadn't taken Nika too much effort to keep his mother distracted. All he had to do was to sit still and let his mother stare at him to her heart’s content.

Was it uncomfortable? Yes.

But it was effortless too and it was working.

The main door banged open and Vlad strolled in looking on edge.

“Vasya.” he acknowledged his sister-in-law. But his eyes on Nika making sure that he was fine.

“You're home early.” replied the woman, surprised.

“So are you.” He answered.

She shot him a tired smile before turning her attention back to Nika.

“I know that you entered the Inventionation this year.” his mother said, looking carefully at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Saying Nika was stunned was an understatement. A gross oversimplification. He was shocked, astonished and terrified out of his mind. He couldn't figure out how his mother had figured this out in between one of her drunken stupor.

“What?” Nika asked, his voice sounding small. He couldn't bring himself to talk anymore.

“Sweetie, it's your wish. You can participate in the convention and hopefully win. I'll even help you fix your portal. But just promise me one thing,” she was saying. 

Each sentence was like a slap to his face. She knew about the portal. The damaged portal. She'd never called him sweetie before.

“What?” he enquired, plopping himself down on the wonky chair opposite the davenport. 

“I want you to promise that even if you win, you'll not sign a contract and leave home. I've already lost your father. I can't lose you too.” she sounded concerned, like she cared about him.

“How can you do this to your son Vasya? How can you be so selfish?” Vlad interjected fuming, his eyes livid with fury. 

“How can I not try and protect him? He's my only child. My only family.” she cried. She was up on her feet, trying to look as fierce as his uncle. Nika stared at them, befuddled beyond belief.

How had both of them known about the Inventionation? He'd worked so hard to hide it. Had it all been futile?

“That is not protecting. You're stopping him from reaching for his dream. He's worked so hard for it. You're being selfish.” Uncle Vlad argued. 

“Yes I'm selfish. I'm his mother.” she was sobbing out the words now.

“Don't you dare play the mother card. After all you've done, you don't deserve to ask anything more of him.” 

Nika had a strong feeling that he had to stop the argument before it got out of hand. He got up and walked up to his uncle.

“Uncle we'll talk about this later. It's been a long day for all of us. Let us all get some rest. We need it.” he shot a meaningful look towards his mother as well, hoping that she'd understand. 

She'd have to be really insane if she thought it was better to continue the argument, seeing that she was clearly on the losing side.

It was half past two and Nika was fairly sure that someone was in their kitchen. He was wide awake and wondered if he should wake uncle Vlad to take care of the situation.

A few seconds later having decided against it, he rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of track pants before grabbing a hammer and descending the stairs.

The kitchen light was on and somebody was seated on the counter examining the dismantled parts of the fridge. His mother was staring at the compressor with intense concentration and didn't hear him step into the room.

“It needs a replacement. I've tried, it cannot be fixed anymore.” Nika informed her, startling her a bit in the process. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I was hoping for a miracle.” she replied, smiling up at him as he walked up to her side.

“Ma.” he gulped “I can't agree to not go if I do get a contract. At the Inventionation.” he ventured carefully.

She flashed him a sad smile. “I understand, Nika it's your dream. I just didn't want to lose you too.”

“You're the one who was lost, Ma. I was right here all along.” Nika replied, his eyes welling up with unwelcome tears at the thought of leaving his mother now. Now of all times when she'd decided to change.

“I know, Kosha and I'm sorry for everything.” she apologized, holding out her arms. He shook his head, knowing that he wouldn't fit into her arms anymore, but walked into her embrace anyway. 

Relishing the warmth of his mother's hug he whispered his reply to her. “The portal's broken. There's actually only a 17% chance of me landing a job Ma. I'm not going anywhere.”

She gently rubbed his back. “You are Vasilisa Belikova’s son. That is more than enough.” she whispered back with confidence, but her tears soaked through his shirt anyway.

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