Chapter Four: -Graduation Day-
She stood, one of many in the neat line made up of her peers. They were all graduating today, friends and family packed in the small auditorium to watch as each student would receive a certificate of completion from a low-level government official. Irina would also be receiving another one, for she had achieved the highest scores in her grade. As she waited for the short, pudgy man to finish his long-winded and rather boring speech, the girl thought back to the last few years.
It had not been easy after her father died. They'd had to sell the small farm to a nearby collective, and her mother, refusing to stay and work there, moved them into the city, Leningrad. Their building there was small and gray, built in the prevalent style of the Soviet Era. It was a big change for Irina, to suddenly find herself in a new city, with no friends or father, going to a new school. The girl did not complain though; Instead she did her work and helped her grandmother keep the house neat and clean. Their new neighbors smiled politely and commented on the usefulness of the girl, how she did not complain or cry. Her grandmother would smile proudly then. "Yes," she would say, "Our Irina is strong".
She would watch her mother come home late at night from her second shift at the factory, tired beyond words. She would see the woman scarf down leftover soup or anything else they had for dinner and go to sleep, only to wake up promptly at five in the morning, and go to work again. She watched her mother age decades over months, knowing there was nothing she could do. It scared Irina, for she knew that she might one day be subject to the same fate. If not the factories than the farms. Perhaps she would be like Olga, who lived upstairs: the woman was barely over thirty and looked at least a decade older. She would be pregnant almost every year, already with seven children to raise, a drunkard husband who brought home little food. The smaller ones ate pieces of rag sometimes, to stoke the hunger pangs.
She observed the people around her, all part of the painful daily drudgery, work to home and work again. Even those better off were part of this pattern in some way, and it scared her, the thought that she would live and die and the world would forger her. She would be nothing.
And so Irina threw herself into the work at school, soon surpassing many of her classmates. These looked at the new girl with distaste: the little farm girl that thinks she's so good, raising her hand, doing all the work. Not even trying to make many friends. They didn't like her, but few were openly cruel: The one time a boy pushed her, she punched and gave him a bloody nose. Irina had few friends, and no one she could be close to. When with them she acted like what they expected, not what she felt and wanted.
In classes she listened to the teacher, answered questions, and argued when she thought they were wrong. Her grades were high for this, but few instructors liked her. More than once Irina was hit in the hand with a ruler or stick. It was there she learned of history and geography, and mathematics. She also learned that there was no god, no morals, learned of the history of her country, Stalin and Lenin and all.
Her mother believed still in god, Irina knew, heard her mutter a prayer from time to time. The woman made little effort to instill these beliefs in her daughter. Even if she had the time to try, it most probably would not have worked. Irina was cold even then, with far less morals than she let on. As for her grandmother, she too believed, but she had lived through the revolution, still remembered even the czar. She had supported Lenin, and even now felt far too close to the state ideals to say anything to contradict them, even behind closed doors.
Today her mother stood amongst the crowd, wearing a bright red dress, old and rarely worn. Tears were brimming over the woman's eyes as she saw her only child walk across and receive her diploma, a special comment interjected about her high grades. Irina's grandmother had stayed at home. The hacking cough she had gotten last winter was getting worse, and the Irina was fairly certain she had seen the older woman cough up blood at least once, though she had denied the accusation.
At home making the dinner, in celebration of the day, the graduation. They would sit and eat and talk, a rare occurrence. Today, her mother had taken the day off. Irina knew the what the subject would be, her future. She also knew the answer: In the fall, the girl would take classes at Leningrad University. She wanted a better education, and knew she had the grades for it. All she was lacking was money for the books.
The ceremony was over, the official sent home. Irina walked through the crowds until she found her mother, and was wrapped by the smaller woman's arms, a tear-filled hug.
"I am so proud of you" her mother had told her. "You are my daughter and make me proud". She then took off her earring, diamonds set in gold, the only possession of any real value the woman had, one she had refused to part with even in the worst of times. She pressed them in her daughter's hands, and seeing the question in the younger one's eyes, she replied:
"Your grandmother gave me these on the day I married your father and I give them to you now. No day will I be more happy for you than I am now." Irina took the gift gently cradling them in her palms. She would have many pieces of jewelry in her life, but these earrings would always be her favorite, no matter what.
The two women began the long walk home, the younger still oblivious to her fate, who would soon rush to meet her head on.