Short fiction

Baba Russkij

An empty packet of salt and vinegar crisps blustered over the tips of Baba Russkij's red buckled shoes. Her glasses gathered rain-drops from the damp air, and big greasy smears emerged on the lenses. She made her way across the drive-thru Burger King car-park, negotiating the boy racers who had opened their car doors to pump out songs with heavy basslines and no lyrics. They glanced at her with a sense of respect. Most people around here would give them a wide berth, but Baba Russkij didn't seem to mind them. The speakers were turned down briefly and then turned back up to full volume when she was out of earshot.

Despite the cold, beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she traipsed onwards, struggling to carry the weight of her food-shopping in three blue and white-striped plastic bags. The handle stretched and snapped. Soon oranges were tumbling down the road, mashed into a pulp by passing cars. A jar of pickles rolled off the kerb and smashed.

“Ach...bloody hell in fire,” Baba Russkij cursed under her breath.

She strained to bend down and pick up the groceries, wincing at the pain it took to manipulate her limbs into a crouching position. When she was back to the vertical Baba Russkij noticed someone was helping her up.

“Be careful, now. Here, I'll do that for you,” said a young girl with short flicky red hair.

Their fingertips brushed as the young and the old woman reached for a can of baked beans at the same time. Baba Russkij's fingers tingled. She could feel a whoosh in her head like she had plunged into a cold swimming pool. Her vision became blurred. She stared at the young woman, and blinked and then stared some more, as if she was looking straight through her. In place of the girl's stomach Baba Russkij could see a tiny curled-up pink shrimp of a foetus. A white shimmering aura surrounded the girl's outline. She blinked again and the image was gone. That hadn't happened to her for a while. Not since she moved to England.

The girl had never been looked at in quite that way before. She felt as if she had been stripped to the soul, as if in that instant the strange old woman had found out everything there was to know about her. Then she shivered and felt normal again, forgetting the curious feeling.

“Are you ok?” she asked, scooping up what remained of the shopping, “Would you like some help carrying these home?”

Normally Baba Russkij would have said no. It was embarrassing to ask for help, she didn't like charity. But she was too intrigued by the stranger to turn her away so soon. Besides, it was quite nice to have company on the way home.

She nodded her head, “That would be very kind. Thank you.”

The girl took the shopping bags off her. She had a kind round face with flushed red cheeks, rounded off by a large spud-like nose. Her jeans were ripped at the knees, and on the tops of her arms were noticeable purple bruises, the size of small petals. The girl took smaller steps to keep pace with Baba Russkij's slow shuffling walk.

“I only live around the corner here – it's not out of your way, no?” Baba Russkij asked as they turned down her street.”

“Oh no, I don't mind at all.”

“It is very kind of you to help me, by the by. Can I ask your name?”

“It's Justina. I don't really like it.”

“No-one likes their name because they didn't choose it. My name is Baba Russkij.”

She took the girl by the crook of her arm and guided her towards her house. It was an end of terrace with a green front door. Wind chimes hung over a hook near the ground floor window and sounded as they walked closer. The surrounding houses had overgrown gardens, wheelie-bins toppled over, collections of cigarette butts; a waste land. Baba Russkij's well-kept home stood out from her neighbours’. She struggled to keep it tidy, but she would rather make the effort than to suffer from the shame of a messy household.

“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? I owe you thanks,” Baba Ruckij said as she unlocked her front door.

Justina hesitated; they had only just met. But she was cold and tired, grateful to escape from it all for a bit.

“Yes please, that would be great.”

She stood awkwardly at the front door until Baba Russkij beckoned her in and began to make tea the old-fashioned way, with a copper kettle placed on the hob. She chose two plates from a cupboard and sliced two pieces of what looked like a tea loaf, handing one to Justina. The kettle began screeching a high-pitched whistle, causing Baba Russkij to bustle about with long glasses that had metal bases and stekans. As she made the tea from black tea leaves, Baba Russkij heaped small mounds of sugar into both mugs and put them on mats on the kitchen table, motioning to Justina to sit down opposite. Justina lifted the mug towards her lips and then pulled a face at the sweet taste of the tea. Since she was a little girl she had loathed the taste of sweet things, she avoided sugar at all costs.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. It's just I don't really like sugar.”

Baba Russkij raised an eyebrow, “Ah, but Justina you need to be having lots of sugar in your condition.”

“My condition?”

Justina looked confused. Baba Russkij took a sip of tea, then patted her own stomach, her eyes glistening with delight. Justina's heart began hammering against her ribcage as realisation hit home. How did she know? She had told absolutely no-one. She had only just discovered it for herself. Oh God. Oh God. Was it beginning to show? She tugged at her jumper and pulled it down as far as she could. Baba Russkij's eyes grew brighter.

“How do, do you know?” Justina stammered.

Baba Russkij was silent. She smacked her lips and finished off the rest of her tea whilst it was still piping hot.

“I sometimes see things. Things that nobody else can, but it hasn't happened for a long time.”

“You mean you can see a bump now?”

“No no, you're too early for that, I think? No I just sometimes see things in people, like the things they are trying to hide.”

Justina flushed red. Her body burned. She pushed her chair back and started to stand up.

“Look, thanks for this but I've got to go.”

“No Justina, Justina please stay. I think we can help each other, yes yes.”

But she had already gone, signalling her exit by the slamming of the front door. Baba Russkij looked down at the uneaten piece of cake and cooling glass of tea.

* * *

Baba Russkij flicked on the stove and began frying vegetables, filling the house with the pungent aroma of onions. She began humming an old song from her childhood, drifting in and out of her own thoughts until her attention was alerted to a soft, shy rasping at the front door. She turned off the stove and made her way across the hall.

“Hello?”

Glancing down she recognised the young girl who had helped her a few days ago, Justina, the one she was hoping she would see again. Baba Russkij noticed she had black make-up streaked down her face and on the knees of her jeans were fresh grass stains.

“You best come in.”

Baba Russkij repeated the same routine of making tea, whilst Justina resumed the seat she had sat in a few days ago. Once her back was turned Justina began to speak.

“I didn't...don't have anywhere else to go, nobody else knows about it. The baby. Apart from you.”

Baba Russkij turned back around, her eyes were full of kindness.

“They threw me out when they found out, you see. I told them when I got back, the other day. And now I've ran out of places to go.”

Baba Russkij smiled and said, “I don't understand how anybody would react such a way when a new life is being brought into the world.”

She passed Justina a cup of tea, this time without sugar.

“You can stay here, just while you sort things out.”

“Oh thank you, thank you! I promise it won't be for long.”

She stood up and flung her arms around the old woman, inhaling the smell of peppermint and vanilla musk, scents Justina will always associate with kindness. Baba Russkij felt the sensation of somebody touching her, and her body went numb. Her eyes pierced through the layers of Justina's skin, past the sweat glands and the epidermis, deep beyond the arteries.

“Thanks again Baba Russkij,” Justina said and released her.

Baba Russkij came back out of her trance. All she could see were the tops of Justina's arms, showered with small bruises. Instantly she knew just the sort of thing this girl needed.

“Shall we find out if you’re expecting a boy or a girl?”

Justina smiled. It was the first time she had allowed herself to think of the future of the baby.

Next thing she knew Baba Russkij had got her to lie down on the living-room sofa, following strict instructions to keep completely still on her back. A part of her questioned what the hell she was doing at this stranger’s house, another part put complete and utter trust into the old lady.

“Have you got anything that is close to you? Something that you have had for a long time, like a ring?” Baba Russkij asked.

Justina slipped a gold bangle off her slim wrist. Baba Russkij clasped it in her podgy hand and tied it to a piece of string she had in her pocket. She dangled it over Justina's stomach. Justina tried to stay still and not look at Baba Russkij. She watched the golden bangle spiral in small circles, round and round, round and round. It was bliss for once to not have somebody yelling at her. It was bliss to know she had somewhere to stay tonight. Instantly Justina felt the same sensation she had when she first met Baba Russkij. It felt as if all her inner thoughts were being sucked out of her, she felt like she was being completely emptied.

“Now then Justina...you are going to be expecting a girl. “

Justina looked down at her stomach and smiled. She opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly felt incredibly sleepy. She couldn't control her eyelids shutting firmly over her eyes. Baba Russkij went upstairs for a blanket and placed it over her sleeping guest.

The sun was still waking up when Baba Russkij got out of bed and opened her curtains. It took a few moments to click her limbs into the right position and arch her back before she was comfortable enough to make the journey downstairs. The thought of having some company in her house this morning was thrilling. She wondered what she would make the girl for breakfast. When she headed towards the living room, her heart sank: the empty sofa, the bunched-up blanket flung aside. She sighed and began her usual routine for the day.

* * *

A girl with short flicky red hair pushed a pram across the drive-thru Burger King car-park, which was empty apart from a couple of cars and teenagers sharing a packet of cigarettes. As she made her way towards the main road the baby threw its comforter into the middle of the pavement. Justina couldn't be bothered getting angry, having been on her feet all day. She bent down to pick it up, not noticing someone else was helping her until their fingers brushed.

“Goodness me!”

Justina was taken aback first by the person’s ice-cold fingertips, and then when she recognised a face from her past.

“Baba Russkij, hello?”

The old lady looked quite different from how she had all those months ago. Her face looked tired and strained, as if she was struggling to keep her body in motion. There was something missing in her appearance as well, her eyes didn't seem to smile any more.

“Ah yes Justina, it has been a long time since we met. Is this your baby?”

Justina nodded and smiled. Then she laughed. “It is. His name is Aaron.”

“His. Oh I see that I was wrong,” she chuckled, “I must be losing it.”

“Would you like to hold him?”

Before Baba Russkij could reply Justina had scooped him up and placed the baby into her arms. The greying clouds above began to rain. Dark patches spread on the concrete and onto the pavement. Young and old stood with the baby in-between them, not noticing the rain, or people rushing past giving them strange looks.

Alexandra Rucki