pen pal - trixya

chapter 26

November 15th, 2015. Sunday, 02:05 p.m.

The snow has already clogged every street in Leegreat Haven.

Katya doesn't mind it. She likes waking up in the dark and then in the afternoon seeing everything turn to white, even the sky. This is probably part of her Russian heritage, she guesses. At her window, she watches the snowflakes mix into the blanket of snow that covers their yard, thinking she could go for a walk later, just to feel the snow under her feet. Her snow boots are already by her bedroom door. She knows she doesn't need them, preferring to wear her usual Doc Martens as she would on any other day, but she leaves them there just in case.

She has been locked in her room all morning, having even skipped lunch. Her parents have been back from the Sunday service for a while now, but neither of them bothers knocking at her door. Two weeks ago she wouldn't have minded it, she'd be glad. Today, every second of silence feels like a slap in the face. Katya lays down on her bed, feeling the weight on her shoulders spread to her other limbs. She checks her phone, finding only a couple of messages on her group chat, but she can't be bothered to check them. She opens Vine, then opens Snapchat, then opens Instagram, and then dumps her phone on her nightstand with a grunt, knowing there is no distraction from the agony spreading through her chest. The white noise outside isn't helping.

Her mother's heels click and clack on the hallway. She can hear Irina go left and right and then left again until it finally stops. Katya raises an eyebrow, and then there's a knock on her door.

"Come in," she grunts, sitting up.

Irina walks in slowly, not meeting Katya's eyes. "You didn't make your bed," she observes. Her voice is a lot softer than Katya had expected.

"No," Katya responds.

"And you didn't come downstairs for lunch." Katya shakes her head. "I bet you're hungry."

"Not really," Katya lies, feeling the emptiness in her stomach protest. She resists the urge to cover it with her hands.

"I need to talk to you, малышка," Irina says as she sits at the end of the bed. Katya watches her with careful eyes. Her mother is absolutely never dressed down, not even if she's just staying home. Today she's wearing dark jeans, an expensive-looking blouse and hideous kitten heels. Meanwhile, Katya's sweatpants have a hole in the inner thigh, and her shirt is stained with something she likes to believe is wine, but there is no way to be sure.

"Alright," Katya agrees, with a cold feeling brushing over her guts as if she already knows what's about to come. Her heart beats out of pace, but she makes a conscious effort not to let her facial expression change at all, maintaining her careless demeanor.

"I've been talking to our priest about our... Situation. I've been talking to your dad as well." Irina lays her hands on her own lap. They are perfectly manicured, as usual. "I owe you an apology, Katya."

Katya's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh?"

"The way I reacted was not fair to you," her mother explains, "and it doesn't reflect the way I feel about you at all. I love you so much, Yekaterina. There is no one on this entire planet that I love more than I love you and your sister." She reaches out to touch Katya's face. "Nothing could change that. Nothing."

"Thanks," Katya mutters, letting herself feel her mother's hand against her face. "I love you too."

"Father Williams told me that what God and Jesus have always preached is love - blind and selfless. I let what I thought God wanted me to think guide my actions, instead of acting with my heart, and that wasn't very Christian of me," Irina says. "Psalm 139:13 says 'for you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb', and in the end that's it. God knew you before I did. He stitched every little bit of you together, and he did it perfectly. Мне жаль."