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tell me about my Dad? Are these some photos of him you have in this folder or something?’ said Varya playing a detective, ‘Am I right? C’mon, spill it!’ Varya encouraged her mother as she saw that it wasn’t easy for her.

      ‘Um, well, let’s start with the folder first. This is my present to you, sweetheart. Open it!’ instructed Katya.

      The seriousness started to penetrate Varya’s mood too, ‘Alright, let’s see what skeletons you have in your cupboard,’ whispered Varya never stopping playing a foreseer.

      As she was studying the papers carefully, the picture of the trip was slowly being visualized in her head. Varya couldn’t but stand up on her bed and yell, ‘Cuuuuuuuuuba, G’od, I am going to see Cuba! Mum, you’re the best!’ she jumped on her mother, hugged and kissed her all over.

      When the repeating of the word Cuba finally faded in the air, Varya was ready to take up the next present. ‘Ok, Mum, tell me the truth now. I’m not that good a detective this time. You HAVE surprised me. So now, the father story. He’s never died, am I right? Will you tell me his real name now and let me see him? Ok, I shut up,’ said Varya realizing she was asking way too many questions. Little Monster locked her mouth with an invisible key and threw it away.

      ‘So… where do I begin?’ Katya drew a deep breath and went on, ‘My whole life I haven’t been that lucky with men. Well, I’ve always been lucky with men for sex, for fun, for some romance, call it, as you like it, but have never met my man, who would take me for… let’s say, forever, you know like for life love. One and only. I don’t know if I make sense. But back then I believed in such love. I think most people did, especially in Soviet times. High moral family standards were pretty strong and cherished alright, even though they might be a fraud in life. So at some point, I decided I would just forget about that creating-a-family idea and live for myself, and enjoy life how it was. And I justified my new self with this so common phrase We come in this world alone and leave alone. So why suffer? Why being stuck up on finding some other half of yours when you’re whole already? That was when I created my English through theatre business, which was a great thing I’ve done. Look how we live,’ Katya raised her long fingers around the spacious Varya’s room and kept on, ‘but still, I desperately wanted a kid. I tremendously enjoyed being with my best friends, who had already kids and families, but I also envied them, hell, I envied them. This year I will turn fifty-five. That means I was almost thirty-seven when you were born. Not an extremely young Mum I was. As I was getting close to my fortieth birthday and no responsible man was to be seen, I decided I would play God, and have a baby without any man involved. You know, I didn’t want any awakened ‘father of yours’ appear unexpectedly and surprise you with, ‘Hey, I am your Dad.’ So, I had an IVF, In Vitro Fertilization. Shortly speaking, my egg was fertilized by some man’s sperm in a lab dish and then the embryo was put back into my uterus, and then the normal pregnancy went on. And that was how you appeared,’ finished Katya adding with a tender voice, ‘my Little Monster.’

      They both knew that Varya was now a gorgeous young woman, but Little Monster nickname was something of a habit, a tradition, the tradition of mother-and-daughter love, they mutually shared and cherished. Katya kept on looking at her daughter trying to figure out her thoughts, ‘Do you want to be alone?’ she asked carefully.

      ‘Hell, no, Mum, I’m alright,’ produced Varya and froze to find the right words to describe her flow of thoughts, ‘It’s so unusual… what you did… I mean, lotsa people do it nowadays, but I’ve never thought I’d be the product of IVF… um… let’s name it not unusual but unique… it was still your egg. You are my Mum, hell, even if it wasn’t yours… you have raised me and I love you… and I know you love me… I guess, nothing’s changed from knowing the details of the fertilization, right? But why did you do it? You didn’t have any problems with getting babies, did you?’

      Katya’s eyes began to get glossy. She began speaking with a slight tremble in her voice automatically slipping into the role of some broken-hearted woman, ‘Varya, I told you, I’ve never met a man who wanted to have kids with me. Sex-yes, but no kids, no family. A family requires love, commitment, responsibility, respect, money, a place to live, time, etc… No responsibilities or duties men need these days. Or at least, that’s what I thought then. Just fun everyone wants. When it gets serious, men evaporate… Such were my observations. I mean, of course, there were SOME men who want to have a family, but I guess, they were all occupied already. So I thought I would have a baby without any particular man I know. I didn’t like the situation and I changed it to my liking. And since then I see men as positive emotion-evoking, awakening adventures with no attachments and no expectations… as they have always seen me. And it’s so much better as I don’t worry anymore, no more heart-breaking feelings, no more dramas to tend to. Maybe I even buried the idea of finding the right man. And watching you grow and knowing that no one will appear and bother you makes me feel stable, confident, calm.’

      Katya made a sigh and wanted to say something else to explain herself, but Varya embraced her and they both sat holding each other, making their backs salty with tears.

      Varya put her forehead against her mother’s and uttered, ‘Mum, let’s spend the whole day together. I wanna hear your whole life story. I bet it’s much better than any Hollywood movie I’ve seen. So what d’ya say? I’ll celebrate my birthday with friends tomorrow, no problem.’

      ‘Let me think,’ Katya said and complimented her words with an image of Rodin’s sculpture Thinker, ‘I agree. I’ll make it a real performance for you, ho-ho. Shall I perform it as a musical?’ Katya stood up and began singing, ‘When I was young, I never needed anyone, and making love was just for fun,’ she stopped abruptly and commented, ‘Well, that was the opposite with me,’ she turned to Varya, wiped her eyes with her fingers. ‘But, first, I need a tissue to blow my nose,’ informed she with a chuckle, ‘no, I’d rather wash my face.’

      ‘Yup, good idea. And then we’ll have a talk over cold coffees and tiramisus,’ agreed Varya looking at the tray where half a centimeter of the candle was left, ‘I forgot to make a wish, my wish has just come true. Cuba-Cuba! I’ll make one for you then.’

      Varya blew off the candle light and produced a wink with a smile. And they went to wash their red-spotted faces.

      As Blondie stepped out of the bathroom, she heard her phone buzz again. She drew the phone out of her purse and swiped the green circle, ‘Hello’, she said.

      ‘Hello, my sweet Milf,’ came Sasha’s deep and confident voice.

      ‘Just a second,’ Katya said business-like into the speaker, covered the speaker with her palm and yelled to Varya, ‘I’ll join you in the kitchen in five minutes, honey.’ Blondie headed to her bedroom, feeling butterflies flutter in her belly, and shut the door.

      Katya raised the phone to her ear and said as-a-matter-of-factly, ‘So, hi, Kilf.’

      ‘Kilf…and that would stand for?’ wondered Sasha in a bit confused voice.

      ‘Kid-I’d-Like-To-Fuck,’ informed Katya.

      ‘You watch it, woman. I may punish you for this and won’t even notice that you are a woman and that you are almost eighteen years older than me,’ he said in his seducingly confident voice and added, ‘you can call me Filf, by the way.’

      At first, Katya opened her mouth to ask how he’d learned about her age. But then she remembered about giving her ID to the receptionist. Suddenly her thoughts were frozen by Filf expression. She guessed the first ‘f’ would stand for ‘father’ and quickly responded, ‘Are you married? If yes, I don’t want to have anything with you again, I try not to mix up with married men.’ She caught herself on saying ‘try’, ‘don’t try – don’t mix up!’

      ‘Don’t worry, I’m divorced, have a ten-year-old son, who lives with his

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