the boy woke slowly, for it was late and he had been asleep a few hours
only. he rubbed his eyes and yawned. he was very nearly ready to fall
asleep again when a loud swell of laughter came from the group of adults
downstairs. curious, and thirsty (as every young child learns to be when
they prepare to leave their room after their proper bedtime), he swung his
feet over the side of the small bed and dropped to the floor. he
experienced a momentary pang of regret when his small feet hit the bare
wood floor, and he considered what steps would be necessary to reach the
drawerr, high above his head, which contained his thick woolen winter
socks, but the room was very dark, and he was not sure he could find the
drawer, even with sufficient altitude. he crept to the door, careful not
to bump his nose as he had done once or twice before, and quietly pulled
it open. a bit of warm yellow light slipped into the room just as he
slipped into the hallway.
down the hallway and to the top of the stairs, the voices getting louder
as he approached. he recognized his father's voice, and the occassional
murmur from his mother, but the two loudest voices were unfamiliar men's
voices that rose well above the crackle of the fireplace and the normal
nighttime drone of adult conversation in the evening. it sounded to the
boy terribly promising, and he peeked around the corner and down into the
living room to assay the situation.
there were three chairs arranged in a rough semicircle around the
fireplace. the boy's mother sat in a fourth which was nearly in the
perimeter of the circle formed by the other chairs, but which faced the
staircase rather than the fireplace. she had a large pile of knitting
work in her lap and a slight extra ruddiness to her cheeks which the boy
usually associated with anger, but she did not have the look of an angry
mother on this night. the men were facing away from the boy, but only his
father had his back fully to the staircase, allowing for a few details to
be revealed about the strangers. one was a large man, larger than papa,
with a huge wooly beard spilling down a red shirt. this man was clearly
the source of the loudest laughter, a suspicion quickly confirmed
after an unintelligible comment from the boy's father sent the man
bursting into laughter again. the second man was slight, and still
wearing a large fur cap that covered his ears. his beard was well
trimmed, but a bit on the thin side, and his cheeks were red as any he had
ever seen. he, too, was laughing, and not quietly, but it did not seem to
penetrate and fill the room in the same manner as the first stranger's
laugh did. summoning his courage, the boy tiptoed down the stairs.
barely a third of the steps had he covered when his mother, without
looking up from her work, spoke. "bed, daniil," she called, without
irritation, "it is well past your bedtime." the men, hearing her voice,
glanced at her and then followed her voice with their eyes, up to the
staircase where the boy stood fidgeting. "but mama," the boy protested,
"i'm thirsty. and i had a bad dream."
now his mother looked up from her knitting, a stern look crossing her
face. she was about to speak, when the large bearded man spoke up. "let
the boy stay a minute, maya. we'll cure his thirst properly and scare
the monsters from his head." frowning now, she focused her attention on
the stranger, but relaxed when the boy's father spoke. "let him stay a
minute and meet his uncle, dear. it's been a long time, and if it
continues snowing, the men will have to leave before the roads are
useless."
she sighed, and motioned for him to come down the stairs, even as she
returned her attention to her work. encouraged, the boy padded down the
stairs and up to the side of his father's chair. the big man leered at
him in a friendly manner.
"don't remember me, eh daniil? it's been three years. or maybe you
do... your beautiful mother has a memory to rival the bohemian steinitz,
so anything is possible."
"the last time you called me beautiful, if my bohemian memory serves, you
had nearly as much vodka as tonight," said his mother, in a tone of voice
the boy could not decipher. the big man laughed and held his arms out to
the boy. "come sit on uncle vasily's lap, master iuvachev. come now, i
don't bite unless cornered." the boy allowed himself to slip into the
massive arms and be lifted into what was surely the biggest lap ever. the
smell of vodka on his uncle's breath was at once warmly familiar and
slightly frightening. his thoughts of concern quickly evaporated when the
smaller man across from him asked what had been in the dreams that had
frightened him.
"oh, there were many strange clocks, and none of them could agree on the
time. only the pocketwatches like papa's could agree on anything, and the
others quarreled and quarreled until one's forehead burst open and a bird
came out and screamed and i though it was going to eat me or peck my eyes
out. and then i ran and some of the clocks followed me, and..." his
uncle cut him off. "well, that is a strange thing, because we have brought
just the thing for a boy who is troubled by angry clocks. two things, in
fact, if you count sidor there."
the boy asked what sidor might do for his dream clocks, and the giant
chuckled. "sidor is a miracle worker, and he can do anything he desires to
help you with your problem."
"please, mr. sidor, will you make them go away? please?" the boy begged,
forgetting that in such circumstances he was normally quite shy. this,
however, was not a normal circustance, as daniil had never before in his
memory met a miracle worker.
"no, child, it's much too late for a miracle of that magnitude. i'm
afraid after a third vodka things get a little difficult."
the boy stared, not sure whether to accept the defense. "how about a
small miracle, just anything, i'm sure that would make it better."
"no, it's late, and i have a policy of no work after sunset on nights when
it is snowing."
daniil, being a well mannered boy but quite tired nonetheless, began to
get petulant, and protest, but his uncle cut him off. "never mind, boy,
we've got another solution. we have three bottles of a tetanus
solution. tetanus is a terribly debilitating disease for a wooden
clock. we'll leave you a bottle on your nightstand so you can use it in
your dreams as you need it. fetch that suitcase against the wall and i'll
get it for you."
the boy jumped down from his uncle's lap and ran to fetch the
suitcase. but he quickly found that it was nearly as big as him and much
heavier. after a few fuitile efforts to budge the suitcase even a
fraction of an inch, and many bemused looks shared amongst the men (but
not his mother, who did not seem to be paying attention), vasily frowned
theatrically and said "of course, i remember. silly me. i'm afraid this
isn't going to work as well as i thought it would."
the boy's eager mind had already moved past the tetanus plan to more
pressing matters, "uncle, why is this suitcase so heavy?"
"because, dear child, it contains a body, of course. you ought to have
learned such things by now. what is your mother teaching you these
days?" and a quick apologetic glance to counter the glare that came from
under the knitting.
"why do you keep a body in the suitcase? is it dead?"
"of course it's dead, boy, who keeps live people in a suitcase? and you
really ought to know why one keeps a body in the suitcase, but since your
mother has been neglecting you, i'll tell you now. but try to remember so
we don't need to cover this again when i next see you in a few
years. you keep the body in the suitcase so it doesn't crawl all over the
house like it owns the place."
the boy recoiled visibly towards the fire and away from the suitcase,
eyeing it somewhat nervously. his uncle (predictably now) laughed again
and said, " you were thirsty, child? here, have a sip of my water," and
before his mother could object, he slipped the child a small glass, from
which the boy took a small sip and sputtered.
"this doesn't taste like water at all." his
uncle noted the stern look on his mother's face and quickly said "someday
you'll see that it tastes much better. in the meantime, run and get a sip
of proper water, and then off to bed, you."
the boy dropped from the lap once more and found his mother. "you're too
young for that poison," she noted matter-of-factly, and handed him the
water jug. the contents tasted rather the way the boy thought water
ought to taste, which is unsuprising considering that it was the only sort
of water he'd consumed in his short but not unhappy life. "now off to bed
with you," his mother said, patting him on the back as he walked away.
as he climbed the stairs, he could hear his father again. "vasily, check
the snow. if it's past the birdfeeder, you won't want to set out
tonight." the boy glanced out the window on his way up the stairs. it
was still snowing, as hard as it had been all winter, if not harder. he
hoped as he climbed into bed that the snow was past the birdfeeder. he'd
never seen a miracle performed before.
