Yao lingered in the living room, standing with his hands behind his back. Natalia watched him, sitting daintily on the couch. The door was open, to allow warm wind to seep in and warm the house. They had returned from Ira's. Natalia had excused them both on account that Yao had felt unwell. So she took him home and now dressed in her house dress, watched him sympathetically.
"Why don't you marry the one you love?" Yao muttered to himself, pronouncing harshly and feeling hot anger rise up, "I know Ivan is a strange man. His ways are mysterious and unpredictable, but still this is a stretch. There must be more to it!"
Natalia's eyes flashed at him, the icy irises betraying her annoyance. "You will find out soon enough, Yao," she said, patting down the wrinkles in her dress.
"So you do know!" He said, curling his upper lip to show his pretty white teeth. As he grew accustomed to the sisters his temper showed more often. His youth inflicted it and now his betrayal did as well. Only earlier that day he realized the full potency of his love and now it was all but a vague dream of the past. "You witch." He added and instantly regretted it. Flushing furiously he turned away, ashamed.
Natalia shrugged, fastening eyes onto his back. "Do not fret, Yao, I've been called that ever since I was only a little girl. I've grown used to it by now."
"Being used to it doesn't make it hurt any less."
Natalia too averted her gaze and rested her elbow on the divan's arm, her chin on her palm. "Perhaps it doesn't but what difference does it make? I am a witch I suppose. I'm a wretch, a cold hearted temptress. I am not that sweet, gentle motherly figure my sister is. Nor am I a brave man like my brother. I am nothing but a weak little thing." As she spoke her words steadily grew more bitter and resentful, ended in a dull murmur.
Up until that moment Yao realized that he had never listened to her. She had patiently listened and helped in her own, cold way and yet no one returned the gift. Yao had simply assumed that she could fend for herself and did not require assistance. He felt ever more ashamed and approached her, sitting beside her. Her eyes were dry and her lips expressionless.
"Natalia…?" Yao asked softly.
She cast her eyes at him.
"I'm sorry."
Her eyes flashed but she did not respond.
Yao continued; "I'm sorry. I'm very sorry for ignoring you and for taking you for granted. You are a beautiful and kind woman, though your appearance makes it seem untrue."
"Beauty is relative. I do not wish to be seen as a beautiful woman. Oh…" she muttered and lowered her hand that supported her head, tilting her chin down. She gathered her hands in her lap and laced her fingers together. "Oh how I wish to disfigure my face! How I wish to cut off my hair and mutilate my appearance! I want to be seen for who I am rather than how I look!"
"That's not what I meant," Yao said, then paused. He searched for an explanation and only found one. "A moment," he said and went off.
Natalia remained in the same room, staring down at her tangled fingers and blinking rapidly, trying to stop the glutting tears. When she head Yao's reserved, quiet footsteps she raised her chin and addressed him calmly.
Yao stood before her, in his cupped hands was the wounded bird. Katrina had cared for it well and had promised that she would release it the next day. "Hold out your hands," Yao said.
Hesitant, Natalia cupped her hands and raised them as though begging for water. The bird hopped down into her hands and she flinched. It fluttered its wings in alarm and once Natalia, wide eyed, had relaxed, it too settled and seated itself in Natalia's hands, gazing up at her with stone-like black eyes.
"Why do you wince when you see these things? You did not like the little girl near you and now you cower at the sight of a harmless bird." Yao asked in soothing, warm tones.
Natalia examined the bird and, moving it over to one hand, raised her other and petted it gently with her forefinger. She passed the fingertip along its slender skull, feeling the smooth feathers shift under her delicate touch. The bird shifted its wings and she pulled away, terror-stricken. However it appeared unharmed and, actually, quite content so she continued to pet it.
"I suppose," she began slowly, barely parting her lips; "I suppose that I am afraid of corrupting them. I don't really know. Ivan and Katrina both adore things like this. Ivan once stopped in the middle of a siege to ward off a mother and her infant from the battlefield. They had wrongly walked on, or maybe she saw her husband and in a mad rush of love wanted to find him, but regardless of the reason Ivan, blood- and dirt-stained rushed to them and kept the babe and its mother well out of the way. Katrina is motherly, heavenly so, even. She cares for any small or helpless thing in her path. She takes it in and nurses it. She was a mother to her group of friends when she was still in school…" Natalia trailed off and returned the bird to Yao, who took it in both hands.
"I think you're wrong about corrupting it. I think that maybe you're afraid to care."
She disagreed curtly.
"What I meant about your beauty is your purity. On the contrary of what you believe yourself to be, you are very amiable. You care. The way you held it, fearing for its safety as though it were a fragile object, shows the most tender of care—the kind that works in the distance without smothering what it loves."
She buried herself in thought. Yao replaced the bird to its blankets and when he reentered the living room, Natalia was not there.
He sought her in the backyard and living room and then the rest of the house. She was nowhere to be seen. Ultimately he decided to look outside. Sure enough, there she was. She, now a speck in the distance, had ventured barefoot to the lake. Yao went after her, terrified by some unintelligible reason.
"Natalia!" He cried out. She stopped and whipped around, started.
"Yes?"
He stopped short before her, realizing that she did not seem to have any malign motives. "I was worried," he said.
"You were wrong." Was her reply and she continued to walk towards the lake, stepping on sharp grasses and causing them to crackle under her weight. She edged towards the brim of the lake. It spread out before them, deiced and warm. The blue shimmered in the sunlight and the golden sand below was clearly visible. Fish swarmed in areas and then dispatched. Clams and snails slowly trekked through the bottom, drawing lines behind them to show how far they've come in life's journey. Natalia dipped down and pushed her hands below the warm water. It glided along her bare hands smoothly, as clean water does, and touched the sand. She traced drawings and pinched an amount of sand between two fingers. Letting go, it flourished, creating a golden cloud below the water that caught the light so—like millions of glimmering jewels.
"You were wrong about me loving something too nonchalantly."
"Oh?" Yao asked, quite lost.
"I once loved something too much and it tore a piece of me out. You believe yourself to be a good judge of character and that you are. But you are still far from being a great one. You got most of the details correctly. I suppose in your eyes I am pure. I do cower from things that I might love. I don't fear you because I know I'll never love you… But I am addictive. I'm a witch! I'm a diabolical, sour, horrid witch that poisons all she loves. I latch onto things and I don't let go. I end up hurting them unintentionally or coming off as insane and that I am, I suppose. I'm dispassionate because I was once too passionate."
"Oh." Yao muttered, looking down into the lake's depths. The middle, where it was deepest, seemed only a small fathom below. In reality it was many more fathoms. And in a way it reminded him of the family. Each one, Ivan and Katrina and Natalia, appeared so shallow and easy to see through, but in reality were much, much more complex. Each had their share of sufferings that time had hidden, but not completely healed. Ivan had his war struggles and some new unapproachable one. Katrina seemed simple enough but there must be a reason to her incessant loving. And Natalia had just opened up a small portion of her heart to him. Yao felt dizzy and decided to turn back, but paused, his back towards the woman. "Why did you come here?"
"To see the lake. Or is that a crime?" she replied.
"I see." Yao continued and went home.
An hour later, Katrina came home. Her cheeks were rosy and her nose crimson. She looked around the room, not finding anyone in the living room. Ivan had remained at Ira's for his own reasons. Katrina found Yao in his study, flipping through a Russian volume. In that same study Natalia browsed through books. Her fingers trailed along the edges.
She looked up when Katrina came and asked something in a language very similar to Russian but just below Yao's grasp. She spoke in Belorussian and Katrina responded in Ukrainian. Both understood either language but could only proficiently speak one respectively.
From Katrina's morose tone Yao correctly conjectured that it concerned Ivan.
"Well, I'm dreadfully sleepy. I have a good few drinks in me and a lot of food. Oh that Ira can cook!" Katrina said, yawning. "I'm off to sleep. Goodnight!"
"I think I'll sleep as well. Tomorrow morning I'll make Drainikis." Natalia said and the two left for bed. Drainikis are a Belorussian breakfast food that is essentially potato pancakes. Yao had once heard Natalia explain her desire to make some. Along with that conversation the question as to how the two were from such different cultures came about. The idea was that a year before Ivan retired the two went off in different directions to the certain parts and were integrated in the culture that their nurses and in part their friends had introduced them to. Ivan firmly remained in Russian, driving towards his goal as a general; which in the end he achieved along with legendary status.
Yao remained in the room for a while yet, until sleep tugged at his eyelids and he could no longer protest. He rose and left for bed, turning out the lamps and, once having readied himself for sleep, feel on to the bed and drifted off into a slumber.
At breakfast the rich smell of food wafted in, rousing Yao. Yao eagerly went to the kitchen where Natalia piled the cakes on a plate. Katrina was seated, slightly rumpled with the aftershock of heavy food and drink. Still, she beamed at Yao and bade him good morning.
"How was your sleep?" she asked.
"Well, you?" and so on.
When they were half way through the delicious stack, the door swung open and Ivan entered. They stopped eating and turned, looking at him in gripping silence. The man at the doorway was still Ivan; with silvery hair and his strong jaw, his broad shoulders and his commoner clothing. His lips were pink and his cheeks full—all youthful and beardless. His eyes were downcast and sullen. Puffy pink circles ringed them and his steps were heavy and slow, dragging along the floor. Tufts of hair at the sides of his head stood up apart from the rest, as though having been tugged at. He rubbed his eye and took his place at the table.
"Whatever happened?" Yao dared to ask.
"You never tackle love headlong." Ivan muttered, taking one of the cakes in his hands and nibbling at it.
"Is it alright if I explain it?" Katrina asked compassionately.
Ivan shook his head and took a large bite, muscles along his neck and mouth twitching. "No, Katya, I'll explain it. That was is best. Yao, you know I… I am quite fond of you," he said, already coloring—his cheeks becoming crimson. He cleared his throat and continued as though nothing had changed, but his cheeks remained the same hue. "But I loved Ira dearly and her dying wish was for me to marry her. You've seen her when she was well, moving about enough and ceasing her heartrending coughing for an hour at a time. The doctors had tried their best but she had a number of illnesses. She was dying. She loved me and I was the only one who could fathom loving her back."
"When will the wedding be?" Yao asked, coming off harsher than intended.
"Last night," Ivan responded, "Last night was also her very final night upon this earth. I'm glad to have come just in time. I stayed behind to remain with her until her final breath left her body, taking her life along with her. The sickly, delicate girl was a bruised flower. Beautiful, but also damaged."
"I'm very sorry," Yao said softly, regretting his cruel words and thoughts against her.
They all bowed their heads and continued eating in silence.
"But you don't cry at this?" Yao asked in an undertone.
"No," Ivan's lips twitched, almost into a smile. "I've seen very much death in my life. It's the tragedies that lie ahead of me that will cause tears to wrench from my eyes. It's what fate has in store for me that will tilt worlds."
"How can you be so sure?" Yao asked, stunned and afraid.
Ivan rose, pushing his chair back with his calves. "I have my resources. And for now these marked tragedies will have to wait. Creation and destruction, love and hate, peace and war, kindness and brutality all are inseparable. Indivisibly they stand together, muses clutching to each other. Maybe you don't believe in this but I do. I do believe that for every good thing there is a bad thing to match it." He left the room, his words still dangling in the air. It echoed in their ears like a gunshot; even if it was not violent or catastrophic. It did not tear the grown or rip the membrane of the sky from the earth, but it may as well have.