A tear slipped down her round face, making a track in the layer of makeup that covered the skin underneath. Her skin was delicate, paper-thin, and pale as the snowflakes drifting from the sky. Katyusha wasn't exactly sure why she had walked out of the warm, cozy home she shared with her siblings into the unforgiving Winter.
Maybe it was because there was no longer any difference to her. Katyusha did not feel warmth, nor did she feel cold. She only felt the numbness of her heart and the hole that had been gouged there by the one who no longer loved her. Perhaps she did not even feel emotions.
Why, then, was she crying? Because surely she was not sad, not in the least bit. That would mean the only logical reason she was crying was that her eyes were simply trying to warm and moisten themselves because of the dry, frozen air. That had to be it. After all, when there are no emotions to trigger such actions, the only reason would be for health.
Although, Katyusha wasn't quite sure why her body was still trying to keep going. After all, what is a life without purpose? What is a life without feeling, without love? It is not a life, it is simply a thing breathing, moving automatically without any reason. And this was how she truly felt.
There was nothing on this Earth that would mean anything to her, so why stay on this Earth? It was a short-lived thought, for she knew it was a stupid idea. It just wouldn't do any good. Unfortunately, she couldn't push it out of her head completely, so it lingered in the back of her mind, as far back as it would go.
She wiped the clear drop of moisture from her face carelessly. Katyusha got up and wandered stiffly from the alleyway in which she had lurked, stepping wistfully through the paved streets. She knew how the concrete felt beneath her feet, but it was difficult to feel now, when she was so numb from the cold inside her and around her. The grey clouds loomed overhead, and if she had a mood they would have matched it. But she did not, so they only served to block out the sun. If the clouds were like anything in her, they were like the impenetrable walls around her heart, blocking out everything warm.
Under different circumstances, she might have realized she was freezing to death and headed home, or to the nearest heated building to avoid hypothermia. But she didn't care. Katyusha was but a hollow shell, and the shells of creatures do not feel, only the creatures themselves do, and when the creature is gone, there is no feeling anywhere in the shell. Perhaps the real Katyusha had just outgrown her shell, and was looking for a new one. Perhaps she would realize that her old shell was just fine and return to it. Or perhaps the real Katyusha was simply dead and the old shell that looked like Katyusha would never be anything more than just that—a shell that looked like Katyusha.
She could remember when the real Katyusha was still there. Though she had always been a bit sensitive or insecure at times, she had always been full of life. There were times when she laughed and joked and smiled. There were times when her heart filled with warmth and it spread through her body until she was completely happy and content.
For a long time, many of those times were triggered by her the one whom she loved and who loved her. His name was Matthew. He had been so kind, sweet, and gentle. She remembered one occasion in particular.
It was Christmas and she had flown with him to his homeland, where they would meet his family personally and he would ask if he could marry her. Matthew's parents had embraced him so very tightly when they first opened the door for them, and fussed over how skinny he supposedly was and how pale he was, although really he had always been that way.
Then they had looked at her and appraised her, looking up and down her body with curious eyes, wondering what her character was like. His father, a slightly cynical British man, had been most critical and did not immediately take to her, but it seemed he was like this with everyone. His mother, however, a romantic French woman, had fawned over her after only a few minutes, crying "Oh, you'll do perfectly for mon cher Mathieu!" and tearing up, only to stop because she didn't want her carefully applied mascara to streak her flawless face. His father was eventually convinced that the woman his son had spent the past two years with in Ukraine was suitable for his beloved, quieter son.
Matthew's brother never did like Katyusha that much, seemingly because she had Russian ties (although she was actually Ukrainian), and quote unquote, "communist" and something else she did not quite hear, although she assumed it was unpleasant. Luckily, his brother (Alfred was his name) spent most of the time she was visiting in Canada with his girlfriend.
So they ate many meals together, Matthew's mother being a fantastic cook, and quickly accepted her as one of their own.
Katyusha's favorite memory there was the time they opened gifts. Back at her home in Ukraine, she was rarely given a gift, and she didn't expect them. Here, however, it was custom to shower each other with different presents. Back then, she had felt so content and happy, with candles on the table and various things that held meaning of love at their feet.
They had sat on the couch together, Katyusha leaning her head on Matthew's chest and Matthew's arm around her shoulder as he stared sweetly down at her. She looked up into his violet-blue eyes, only a few shades darker than her brother's, and noticed that he seemed a bit more nervous than the situation would normally permit. "Matthew, is everything okay?" she had asked. He had smiled sheepishly and shook his head. A little while later, when Mrs. Kirkland-Bonnefoy reluctantly announced it was time to go to bed, Matthew acted slightly irritated with himself.
"Oh, Katyusha," he said quietly. "I forgot to give you something. Hold on just a minute." He left her confused on the comfortable couch, and went into his bedroom, emerging a few minutes later holding something small behind his back.
"Matthew, what is it?" Katyusha had asked curiously. He had only smiled nervously and walked closer to her. "Matthew, I don't understand, what is it?" He knelt on one knee in front of her and pulled out a small royal blue box. With a gasp, she began to comprehend what was happening, and tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes.
"Katyusha, I really do love you, and I never want to spend another day without you." He paused and swallowed, gathering his wits. "Katyusha, will you marry me?" She had begun to sob, and speechless, she managed to nod and fling her arms around him, right after he slipped the simple silver diamond ring onto her finger.
Six months later, they flew back to Canada for their wedding. It was a small affair, as neither Matthew or Katyusha had an incredibly large amount of acquaintances, but they preferred it that way. She wore a lovely, traditional white dress and he a simple suit. Though it might have been a plain celebration to some (Matthew's mother included), it was perfect to them. And so the "I do"s were spoken, and the two were married.
Against Ivan's wishes, Matthew and Katyusha chose to move to Canada. Katyusha found it pleasant there, almost more so than Ukraine. It was quiet, peaceful, and very beautiful. It was easier for them, since Matthew had enough of Ukraine, and Katyusha had a strange situation with her siblings. So they began to live the rest of their lives together, starting anew.
Katyusha remembered the last day she saw him. He had smiled at her, like every day, and kissed her goodbye as he walked out the door to work. "Goodbye, Matthew, dear! I love you!" She waved at him and he waved back.
"Bye, Kat. I love you too!" She had memorized that sweet smile, and held on to it. Nowadays, she tended not to think about it. It was too painful.
Perhaps wherever Matthew was, he was still being so sweet and kind and gentle, making someone feel so happy and content. Because he wasn't with her.
On that last day, when they bid each other goodbye like any other day, Matthew hadn't come back from work. After about half an hour later than his normal homecoming time, she got a phone call. It was all a blur from that point on.
In a daze, she rushed up to his hospital room. Katyusha would never forget the number, as irrelevant as it was. 316. He was lying there on those sterile white sheets, faintly smiling at her when she dashed in. He looked awful; bloodied and bruised. "Hey, Kat," he said weakly.
She burst into tears and held his hand to her face. In between sobs she begged him not to go.
"N-no, Matthew! Y-you'll be okay! Th-this is all a d-dream, isn't it? We'll w-wake up tomorrow, a-and y-you'll be snoring like a-always and I-I'll make you c-coffee with your f-favorite maple s-syrup a-and y-you'll make us p-pancakes f-for breakfast and…" Her voice broke faded away, and she looked at him pleadingly, hoping for conformation but knowing that this was anything but a dream.
But Matthew just looked at her, smiling painfully. "Don't worry. You'll be okay," he said weakly.
Katyusha sobbed harder and held his hand tighter, as if it could stop all of this. "No, y-you'll be okay t-too! Please…" she begged.
"Let go, Kat. I love you."
She shook her head desperately. "I-I won't! I love y-you too much! Stop…"
Matthew smiled weakly one last time at her. He laid there a few minutes, she sobbing horribly and he seeming to weak to stop her. Then he gasped one last time and sunk into the pillow, heavier than anything could. His hand grew limp in hers, but she clutched it tightly. The smile on his face faded away into a blank expression, and his eyelids shut.
Never again would she gaze into those gorgeous orbs, never again would he smile at her, never again would he kiss her, never again would he hold her hand. "N-no…" She grew hysterical, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them. Her voice quickly grew from its normal, quiet volume into a screeching yell, and her sanity seemed to decrease every second. "No! Matthew! Don't you dare go! Stay right here! Matthew! What are you doing?! This isn't funny! This is not funny!"
The doctors' eyes grew wide and they pulled her back, struggling to restrain her. She pulled against them, but after a few minutes she gave up and sunk defeated into a chair.
It's been three years since then. Ivan and Natalya moved to Canada, where all three siblings shared a house. Apparently she was "emotionally unstable", and couldn't live alone. It wasn't like she cared.
On days like today, Katyusha often wandered away, traveling the streets. This time she paid less attention than usual, feeling so hollow that she didn't see where she was going anymore. Her feet took her to a place that she hadn't gone in months. Tall, gray slabs of concrete rose up from the grassy yard, names and dates inscribed in each of them. She didn't really process any of it until she reached one in the back and realized whose it was.
Katyusha sat on her knees in front of it and traced the letters engraved in the stone with her fingers, mouthing the words. 'Matthew Williams: Loving husband, son, and brother. 1987-2011' Bitterly, she thought how those words weren't nearly enough to describe him. His sweetness, his kindness to everyone, his loving nature, his quietness, the cute way he snored, the perfect way his blonde hair waved, his enthusiasm for hockey, his slight obsession with maple syrup, the way his hand fit perfectly in hers, the way he kissed her, the way he said "I love you," all of it. Matthew was…perfect. And she missed him so much.
Tears began to fall down again, but this time they were genuine, and she put her damp face in her hands. She missed him so much, and she was done with the numbness, with the hate, with the bitterness. She just wanted him back. If there was anything that she could do to see him, alive and happy and smiling again, she would do it without hesitation. Katyusha shook harder and harder, the walls she had built up inside breaking, the emotions flowing out, and the bitterness dissolving. She felt the loss and the pain, but she hoped it was better than nothing. Katyusha hoped that her hurt was better than not feeling at all, but all she felt was longing. She really couldn't stand any of this and just wished she could bring him back. She wished that he had never gone. There was a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped, but she was too absorbed in her own grief to care.
"Katyusha… ." The voice was filled with sympathy and sounded heartbroken. She turned around, the river still flowing, and looked up. The soft voice belonged to her younger brother, who knelt by her and pulled her into an embrace.
"I-Ivan," she sobbed, "I want him back. I miss him so much." She felt Ivan nod beside her.
"I know you do." There was a silence until her sobs began to fade into nothing, and the flow of her salty tears slowed. Ivan pulled back gently and looked her in the eye. "Katyusha? Are you ready to go home?"
She swallowed and said nothing at first. "Yes." Ivan nodded and stood up, offering her his large, calloused hand. With one last wistful glance at the grave, Katyusha took it and walked away, the hole in her heart still there.
But now every inch of pain was felt, and she wasn't sure if it was good. Beside him she walked, looking down at the ground with only his feet to tell her where to go.
Perhaps this was a different kind of not caring. The kind that longed to be where he was, not the kind that wandered through the streets aimlessly.
She only had one question. What to do now? It would be so painful for her to return to life, and yet she knew that was what she had to do. That was what Matthew would have wanted her to do. After a while, Katyusha looked at Ivan as they walked. His gaze turned back to her, eyes still filled with sympathy, and he struggled to smile as he normally did, that carefree, happy smile of his. She was glad for it, because she needed someone to smile at her now.
"Ivan…what do I do now?" He shook his head and looked forward, still smiling. Maybe he realized his older sister, who had been bitter for so long, was finally beginning to live her life again.
"I don't know, Katyusha. Be happy, do something."
She nodded and sniffed. "I…I think I can…soon." The smile on Ivan's face grew less forced and she was glad for it.
"Good. I can help." Nodding, Katyusha lifted her chin up and began to walk back to their home. Maybe she would never stop missing him, but she could live.
Sixty years passed, and Katyusha lay alone in her bed, her once-smooth skin wrinkled by time. She had lived her life, but now she was done with it. It was time for her to go. It wasn't like she was sick. No, Katyusha was at average health for her age, at least physically. Unfortunately, 86-year-olds normally aren't very spry. So she was frail, her bones brittle and spider veins crisscrossing her hands. And most of all, she was tired. Yes, tired to no end. It was like she could fall asleep and be done, no consequences, no questions asked. Katyusha felt like it had been coming for a long time, and Ivan knew it too, as well as Natalya, who in her old age and wrinkles still managed to look ageless and beautiful.
The two had moved out of the house they shared a few years after that fateful day, when Katyusha realized that her life was worth living. They got married to lovely people and had children, and those children had children, and Katyusha loved her great nieces and nephews as much as one possibly could. Katyusha…was still just here. Even though she had gotten a job and tried to date again (which never worked out), her life still wasn't the same. She still wasn't as complete and happy as she was before. As she lay thinking about her life and what had passed, she heard a gentle knock on the door frame.
Katyusha smiled delicately and looked over to see an old Ivan, still as stately as ever, with an old Natalya close behind. They must have sensed her tiredness and understood it, for Ivan smiled more gently than usual, and Natalya managed to curve her lips upwards in one of her very rare smiles. Perhaps they were beginning to feel it too, despite the fact that she was a few years older than them.
"Hello, dear sister," Ivan said quietly. Katyusha smiled faintly, the parentheses around her mouth becoming more defined.
"Hello, dear Ivan and Natalya." There was a comfortable silence before Natalya spoke.
"You're going, aren't you Katyusha." Although her voice was level and her face had become impassive, her dark blue eyes betrayed her sadness, how she wasn't sure she was ready to let go of her oldest sister. Ivan might have been her obsession as a young child, but Katyusha was her rock, the one she came to when he was feeling alone or depressed. Katyusha was the one who would hold her gently and speak soothing words of comfort and reassurance. Wistfully, Ivan looked at both of his sisters, fearing yet expecting the answer.
"I think so, Natalya." Ivan bit back his answer for only a second hesitantly, and spoke it as of he was ashamed of how childish it sounded.
"But…you can't. Please don't…". Tears formed in his lavender eyes, shining and reflecting the dim light. Katyusha weakly took one of each of their hands and spoke, wise from her experiences and years.
"I love you both very, very much. And I know you love me as well. But I've lived my life. It's time for me to let go." As the last few words slipped out of her mouth, she looked at the old picture of her and Matthew. They were still young and happy together. She smiled wistfully and thought about Matthew's last words. They were very much like hers. He had told her to let go, and she was saying the same to them. She looked back at the two people she lived most in this world and found that tears were slipping silently down Natalya's face, and that Ivan was whimpering slightly. He always was a bit childish at times, and Katyusha really did love it about him.
It was Ivan's turn to speak. His voice was about an octave higher than usual. "I'll miss you so much, Katyusha. I love you, sister."
Katyusha smiled reassuringly at him. "I know."
Natalya was more calm as usual, but her voice cracked with emotion. "Thank you for being here for me, sister."
Katyusha nodded. "I'm glad I was." She closed her eyes and sank back, feeling so very ready to go. "Goodbye, Ivan and Natalya." Then she breathed her last as the sound of their grieved responses faded away, and she felt no more.
There was a bright light shining on her eyelids; she could tell because one's eyelids aren't completely opaque. She noticed that she felt lighter, awake. None of the weariness she had felt recently was affecting her, it was like she was a whole new person.
Bewildered, she sat up and opened her eyes, only to be nearly blinded by the brightness of the place she was in. When her eyes adjusted to the extreme light, she saw beautiful things. But her attention was immediately distracted from all of it when she heard a soft, sweet, comforting familiar voice.
"Kat!" She turned toward it, and gasped. It couldn't be true, but to find out she ran toward him.
"Matthew! Matthew, you're here!" She drank in the sight for which she had so longed, his wavy blonde hair, his big, dark, indigo eyes, his slightly rounded cheeks, his soft smile that was wider than she had ever seen it. Unbelievingly, she launched herself on him and felt his arms curl around her, felt the warmth she hadn't in years. "Matthew, I missed you so much… I love you…"
Matthew weaved his fingers gently through her hair and smiled. "I love you too. I've been waiting for you."