Time Is A River

Chapter 3

Sunday 30th of August - St. Peterburg, Russia

While the sun shined through the green coloured willows on the lane were Nikolaj was walking he thought about what he would be doing a year later. 

He was in the last year of the Russian High School. School in Russia is obligated till your fifteen. Then you could choose to stop and work or you could choose to continue and have two more years of school. Nikolaj chose for the second option. The one with the most chance of a big future. 

He had dreamt about being a very well-known piano player. The only problem was that the piano lessons were expensive and this was Russia. Everybody played piano and if they don't play piano they play violin or accordion. 

You had to be very diverse to be a known, but it didn't mean you had to come from a rich family. Talent was something which you couldn't buy with money. You had to show something new, something never seen. 

And that was exactly the thing Nikolaj didn't have: talent, something special. 

He was just an ordinary Russian school boy, good in languages and liked to play the piano. The only thing what could be is a translator or an interpreter. 

In some nightmares he saw himself standing between two diplomats, while they were talking about money, corruption and even more money. 

Of course these jobs were well paid and not very bad to do, but it wasn't the thing Nikolaj wanted in his life. 

He wanted to travel the world to places he had never seen. Sometimes he walked to harbour and saw the big ships who sailed away. The most ships went to Finland or Estonia. 

And now was he on his way home. 

He lived together with his mother, he had never known his father. "From the moment he knew I was pregnant of you, he ran away from me. Never heard something of him later, but I don't care." that was the thing his mother told him if he asked her about his dad. 

His mother was 32 years old. She was sixteen when she gave birth to Nikolaj. 

The apartment were they lived was average for a modern Russian family. Not big, but not small too. 

"Privet mama," he greeted his mom in the Russian language and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She was in the kitchen, probably cooking "Rassolnik", a traditional Russian soup with pork, barley and cumcumbers. 

"Privet Kolya*" she said, focusing on her food. "what did the city look like this afternoon?" she tried to be interested. 

"Warm, just like the soup you're cooking, mother," he said joking. "but you can feel that it will be autumn soon."

"Interesting, do you want to prepare the table for dinner?" she said, while she still looked down at her soup. 

She was obviously angry about something. But what?

Kolya prepared the table, then sat down on a chair and watched his mother stirring the soup. 

The dinner was very silent. There was a constant tension between him and his mother. He didn't understand why. He had told her that he would walk around the city as he always did and he was at home in time. So what was the problem? 

When his mother was finished with the soup she put her spoon down and sighed. 

"Nikolaj," she began hesitantly. "there has been a letter delivered for you.."

"What letter?" Kolya asked.

Her mother stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Out the box where her mothers always put the post in, she picked an envelope out. She walked to the eating table were Kolya still sat and gave the letter to him. 

"First: read the letter completely and then we will talk," she said, nearly whispering.