What if by Antanina LAZAR (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

Father plays a crucial role in a life of a daughter… He should fold her in his arms and tell her that she is beautiful, the smartest one… that he loves her. Thus when a little girl changes in an ephebic woman she will know, that there is a big, strong, the best man in the whole world who loves her and will always take care of her. Otherwise all her life a girl will look for the concern and love in arms of other men, in their beds, cuddled up by strange strong arms, but so desired ones…
There I was, standing by the window of my dormitory and bitterly trying to recall how many of such “strangers” were giving me their love; and I just continued to search for the ”next” and again and again I was drowning in their sinful tenderness. I always was a nymphet and would never be attracted by a man who’s younger than 30 years old. I was craving for the “man’s love” regardless of what price he would ask for it.
I got a lump in the throat, the heart had forgotten how to drive the blood through the veins – not a thump. Hands were so cold.
“How could he?! Not a word in two years!”. My whole being cried.
My mother broke up with him when I was 3 years old. We moved to Belarus. He stayed in Latvia. There were the times of the fall of the Soviet Union: borders between countries were forming, each of them was getting its sovereignty. While I was growing I often remembered this cosy bearded man who didn’t dare to go after my Mom, after me…
Both of my parents work in construction business. And big chiefs were known all over the Union. That’s how when I was in the 8th grade we learned that my father was hired to build a hydropower station in Iran. That was the single allusion to father in 17 years.
Now I was looking at the student quarter behind the window squeezing the French text-book. I had already been a freshman in Vilnius, Lithuania. My Home was left far behind – 400 kilometers to the south, in Belarus. I was twenty and I got a lot experienced: I’ve changed my priorities 20 times, I’ve fallen in love 20 times, I’ve quitted 20 times, 20 times I was dying of sorrow… And where he was?! Why didn’t he find us?!
Yesterday my Mom called. At odd moments she said that “she’d heard that my father lives right now in Belarus, in the capitol”. I kept silence.
“Hey, sprout?”. Mom was calling on the other end of the wire. “Do you hear me?”
I heard. Everything. Mom’s words flood my body and then in a second as a black hole it ate me up inside.
“Ah.. Yaeeeh… I hear you, Mom. Well, cool, cool. Ah.. And for how long he’s been living there?”. I was desperately struggling with myself not to cry. We had never discussed my father’s absence with Mom. We had never shared feelings.
“Over two years. I wasn’t said where he works, but… dear, you all right?”
“Yeah, Mom… I’m fine. I’ve just… turned aside for a moment. Okay, then. Kissing you. In two weeks there will be vocations. So.. see ya soon, ha?”
I couldn’t sleep that night.
I was enmeshed in thoughts. I wanted to see him. I wanted to scream at his face that I hate him! I did want him to hold me tight and never ever let me go again.
I was scared: what if he wouldn’t need me? What if he had hundreds of such abandoned children all over the Union?
“You can’t just go in Minsk!” My neighbor exclaimed in the next day. “We got a writing tomorrow!”
“I know…”
“Listen, what if you’ll be disappointed? What if he says something you won’t like? It can hurt even more then…”
But nothing can hurt more then ignorance. I had already decided everything. I didn’t know how I would find him, I didn’t know what I would say. My goodness! I had no idea how exactly I was going to look for him! All my plans ended at the point “come to Minsk”. This notwithstanding I was firmly confirmed that I had to see him: I wanted to look at his eyes. Though he would say he doesn’t need me – I had to hear it by myself.
I didn’t have any money for the train – the scholarship was going to be transferred in a week. The only way to get to the city was hitchhiking. But, as you understand, there is no a problem that can stand on man’s way in such moments.
After breakfast I woke up from a stupor and pulled my fingers out as an obsessed. I called my friend in Minsk (I thought it would be better if no one of my relatives would know that I am in the city). The friend had a couch available for one night. That’s all I needed. After that I wrote an e-mail to my professor with a very plaintive content asking to release me from the exam tomorrow and let me pass it any other day. As a reason I put a very “delicate family business”: “You know I would never ask if it’s not so serious”. My reputation of the “responsible student” was a determinant. Indeed, first you work for the reputation, after – it works for you.
It was afternoon – not the best time for the hitchhiking. Nevertheless I put the passport in the bag, some rubles for the Minsk’s subway. I came to the edge of Vilnius.
Lithuanians don’t usually look suspiciously at hitchhikers, though they are not cordial Polish who will pick up even a sot on the highway. Anyway I was hoping my youth and appearance wouldn’t leave a doubt even for a hinky person. Hitchhiking is quite a danger, but maniacs and perverts were last thing I was worried about at the moment.
I hadn’t been waiting for a long time. One of the first cars stopped to peak me up. I saw a good sign in this. The fact that a young couple was going till the city of Minsk I considered to be the second good sign.
Guys were very friendly. They asked me about student life in Vilnius, about adaptation of Belarusian to Lithuania. I answered absent-mindedly. Each kilometer was drawing me near Minsk, id est to my father. How was I going to find him? I couldn’t just come to any old construction company and ask about him! Wait… Or could I? Well, what options did I have? I got only one day for everything…
I passed the border on foot: it’s faster than by car – they usually do not check an unmounted too scrupulously. I passed the last turnpike. I was in Belarus. The air was flooded by the fragrance that appears in the end of March when fruit trees still not blossom but are going to.
I thought I’d be picked up before my fellow-travelers passed the border control (they got piles of stuff in trunk). Bit in twenty minutes three cars drove by and didn’t stop. One of it even splashed me with the dirty water from the roadside (I still hope – not on purpose)... However I was picked up by the young couple again. The last hours we mostly kept silence. The woman fell asleep and I was too strained for a good nap.
They dropped me off near the subway exit. I eagerly thanked them (didn’t suggest money, because, first of all, it is not done here and second of all – I had peanuts).
It was eight p.m. when I got to the friend’s place. He met me gladly and made me a cup of hot tea with raspberry jam. After all the questions he went surfing in the web trying to find addresses of big construction companies of Minsk. I was forced to take a shower at last and drink some more tea to relieve the stress and fell asleep easier.
My friend made me a bed in the only room in the apartment. He himself was sleeping on a couch in the hall that night.
I set the alarm for 7 o’clock, turned toward the lamp to switch off the light. There was a peace of paper with the copied addresses on the cupboard. I just had three addresses. Three addresses meant three opportunities to find father. I turned off the light. Shut my eyes. It was too frightful to think about tomorrow. It seemed as if the next day would upturn my world.
However the day started pretty casual. We woke up early, had some cold pancakes for breakfast and went at the first address. The office was in the Center. A trolleybus, subway, on foot – and we were at the place in forty minutes.
Unnoticeable two-story building. The jalousie was lifted and there were people inside – it was obvious that the working day had begun. We came in and found ourselves in the wide hall with a lonely desk in the middle. A man 40-45 years-old was watching hockey on a small TV-set and was methodically restacking some papers.
“Good afternoon”. I said. “Would you be so kind to help me?”
The man glanced at us “It depends on what exactly do you want”.
I told him the name of my father and asked if he worked there.
“Hmm… Donno”. He slowly got up and pulled out a list from the desk – a list of employees as I understood. He cast a cursory glance at it. “No. Not seeing any”.
“Am.. May be we can come in to one of the offices? Probably someone can know him”.
The man looked at me as I was insane.
“What? Girl, listen. I was put in here to prevent different unplanned visits… Like yours, if you know what I mean”.
At a stroke I crumpled. I suddenly realized how naïf it was, all of it: did I really believe that I could just come and ask and they would hand everything on a silver platter to the first stranger?
“I’m sorry, but we’d better leave”. My friend pulled my sleeve.
For some reason I was lingering. The heart rolled up in a tight knot. I thought everything would be easier. What if I’d fail in last companies too? What’s next? Father is near! I can’t just loose heart and wait for a certain fortune that will bring us together.
Slowly we moved to exit. Right in front of us a man in a shirt rushed outside. He was in a hurry. We followed him on the street. He stood not far from the exit smoking and definitely waiting for a car – he impatiently was looking out to the road.
He turned our way and I was stroke as by a lightning! That was Stepan Alexandrovich – the father of Lesha with whom we had played Nintendo for candy wrappers from “Turbo” gum. What was he doing here?! We all live in the south of Belarus and to meet an acquaintance in the capitol is quite a rarity. I continued to look with saucer eyes. He seemed to recognize me too. Stepan Alexandrovich suddenly smiled.
“Ha! Shorty! Is it