heylo lovely readers! just letting you know that this chapter is third person, active present from elkena's perspective-- except it's not elkena telling it cuz she's five, and it's not technically yuuri either because he's not seeing it happen... so just... uh.... don't get caught up in that 😅 we're just taking a peek at what elkena's up to now.
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Battered, confused, and helpless, Elkena is not immediately given over to her grandmother. Nothing is immediate, really. She goes in and out of the hospital between stays in various foster homes. Elkena is never really sure where she is or why she goes there. She just clings to the only real memory she can retain at such a young age.
"Mary, would you mind watching Elkena?" the latest foster mother asks of an older teen. "She likes to blow bubbles." It is understood by the exhaustion on her face that the foster mother needs an hand from Mary with the younger children while she starts to make dinner.
"Alright," Mary agrees, picking herself out of the rocking chair slowly and carefully because of her rounding stomach.
Mary is fifteen, too young to be pregnant, but pregnant nonetheless. She wants her baby, the only family she's bound to have, but is becoming more and more certain that she is in no position to give the child the proper care she will deserve— for the doctors can say with certainty that the baby is a she. Mary takes Elkena's small hand with a pang of something like wistful longing as she leads Elkena into the fenced backyard.
Elkena looks up at Mary.
"Are you sad?" she asks as bluntly and as brazenly as any five-year-old.
"I suppose I am," Mary admits, glancing down at the little girl. "I don't suppose I can help it much."
"Why?" Elkena pushes.
Mary bites her lips, wondering if she ought not to be having this conversation with a child so young.
"I'm going to have a baby soon," Mary says slowly, sitting down at the porch and opening a bottle of bubble soap for Elkena. "But I may not keep the baby."
Elkena looks appalled. "Why not?" she exclaims in shrill tones. "Won't the baby need you?"
"Where is your momma?" Mary diverts.
Elkena thinks long and hard. She doesn't appear to know. She blows a bubble on the wand as she thinks. Then it comes to her.
"Mama hits me and yells at me, and keeps me cold and dirty. She's not a good momma," she frowns.
"Well," Mary begins carefully. "That's why I may not keep the baby when it comes. I would never want to hurt my baby, but I may not be the best mother for her."
"You can get better mothers?" Elkena exclaims, astounded.
"Of course. You, yourself, are on the road to a better mother," Mary blinks, tilting her head.
"I'm waiting for my Gramma," Elkena shakes her head.
"Anyone willing to love and take care of you is a better mother than a mother that beat you, even a grandmother. Just because she didn't give birth to you doesn't mean she won't be a better mother." Mary blows a few bubbles for Elkena to pop.
Elkena still doesn't seem to understand though.
"What about fathers?"
"What about them?" Mary asks, almost amused.
"Can you get a better father if yours was no good?"
"Sometimes," Mary shrugs. "They are... not always available."
Elkena seems to have expected this response. She nods and looks up from her bubble chasing.
"What happens to bad mothers and fathers?"
"They lose their children," Mary shrugs, "hopefully."
"You think you'll lose your baby?" Elkena looks crushed.
Tears spring to Mary's eyes. She shrugs again, and looks away.
"I want the best future for my baby," she says determinedly. "Whether it's with me or without me depends on my baby's needs."
There is a long silence from Elkena. She blows bubbles, giggling as they pop occasionally. She has a doll slung under her arm that she doesn't seem to care about much. But she allows the doll to hold her bottle of bubble soap for a moment as she returns to the conversation with Mary.
"I know someone you can trust with your baby, if you don't keep it."
"Her," Mary corrects Elkena's referral to the baby as an it with careful amusement.
"No, I mean a he," Elkena shakes her head and giggles. "He saved me from my Mama."
Mary looks skeptical but intrigued. "Oh?" She dares encourage the little girl, expecting a tall tale or a vague description of a firefighter.
"His name is Yuri— he's sorta famous!" Elkena says. "He ice-skates— he calls and asks about me sometimes, and he makes sure I'm okay."
Mary frowns.
"Not Yuri Plisetsky, the young Olympian?"
Elkena screws up her face. "No, that's not it," she shakes her head, throwing low curly pigtails in and out of her face. "But they know each other."
"Katsuki Yuri, then," Mary says, incredulous. "Victor Nikiforov's project."
"Victor! Him too!" Elkena leaps excitedly. "Gramma said I can take his skating classes when I go home with her! Yuri stayed with me at the police station. He wanted to take me home, but it was too fast," Elkena looks sad at the memory. "He seemed like a good father. But he said he didn't have children yet, even though he wouldn't mind it. He'd probably be a great papa for your baby!"
And although it's an enormous stretch, Mary understands Elkena.
