Immortal Ash

Chapter 9

The mezzanine smelled of mint, dried dill, and sweet perfume, as if her grandmother had passed by. Lera froze, inhaling the familiar scent that awakened a thousand memories. How she had missed her grandmother! How lonely and defenseless she felt without her. Lera could hardly suppress the urge to slam the doors shut, lest she sink deeper into the pain of loss. But how rashly she had promised this unknown man to find her grandmother's records! She would have refused if she had not been thrown off by the unexpected encounter.

Well, there's nothing else to do. Grandma's things were put away by her aunt two years ago. The boxes had been on the mezzanine ever since, preserving not only the scent of perfume but also her grandmother's wisdom. Lera resolutely took hold of the first box and pulled it down to the floor, then two more. She took everything into the room and closed the door tightly. She didn't want her aunt, who had come back for lunch, to catch her sorting things out and ask her questions.

The first box contained her grandmother's dresses and handkerchiefs. They kept their floral scent, even though they had been washed. The second box contained a jewelry box, a photo album with worn velvet covers, a pack of church candles, and a whole arsenal of dark vials with various oils. Lera opened one of them and fiddled with it. It smelled unpleasant: rancid, musty. She quickly closed the bottle and put it away with the others labeled 'rose', 'lavender'.

'peppermint', then put the photo album on her lap. From the yellowed and faded photographs, unfamiliar faces stared back at her. A third of the album was unfilled, and the remaining pages were scribbled. A vague image immediately appeared in her memory: Lera sitting on the floor and sticking out the tip of her tongue, scribbling in the album with a ballpoint pen.She thinks she was five years old then. Memory has preserved a very different environment: blue carpeting, which is constantly separated, yellow curtains and a crystal vase behind the glass of the 'wall'. It was someone else's house in one of the poorly remembered towns she and her grandmother had lived in. Lera put her palm to the warm velvet and grinned bitterly: she had never understood why they moved so much and so often. How many of these cities that had never become her hometowns had there been in her life? She'd even lost count.

Before her parents died in the accident, Lera had lived with them in a big city. Not the Moscow she dreamed of, but a huge one. Her grandmother told her that that city had a wide river, high-rises, and an amusement park. Lera took her word for it, because she didn't remember the river or the park at all. Maybe because she was too young. Then she was brought here, to this provincial town. They lived here until her fifth birthday, and then they went to another place, where there was a goat named Manka, a roadless area, a forest, strawberries and blueberry pies. Traveled to different towns until Lera got sick. Her grandmother gave her herbal infusions, but then decided to return, because something besides her granddaughter's illness worried her. One day Lera heard how she, putting the pie, quietly lamented: the girl needs to go to school, it would be good here, but 'this idiot'' appeared.

They lived in the town for two more years, and then that terrible event happened, after which her grandmother took her away again.

They wandered through towns and villages, never staying anywhere longer than a year. Lera often changed schools and got used to studying on her own. She didn't make friends either, because she had to part with them. Her grandmother wouldn't let her write to anyone. Once Lera asked her directly who they were running away from. But she didn't get an answer.

Shortly before her fifteenth birthday, they returned to town. 'I hope she will protect you. I don't have the strength for all this', her grandmother had once said, but she didn't explain.

Lera closed the second box and slid the third one toward her. In this she found books and thick notebooks. It took her a while to find the notes she needed - recipes for herbal infusions and ointments, not pies and pickles. Lera smiled contentedly, turned the page, and saw the sealed envelope with her grandmother's handwriting on it. Without knowing what was in it, she froze with excitement. Then she hastily tore the edge and pulled out the sheet.