To Live Her Life
The Revelation
Youri hid in the shadows as he watched Mayine rush past him and down the windy dirt street. Only after Mayine was out of view, did Youri step out around the corner of the small house. He walked up the steps to the door and cupped his hands around his eyes as he tried to look in the glass. He only saw the darkness and the various pieces of furniture; all in their respective places. He jiggled the door knob and pulled on it as hard as possible before he began beating his palms against the door. He used his elbow, covered completely in clothing, to try and break in. He tried twice before an ear-shattering clamor was heard. The glass snapped and cracked before falling to the hard floor below it. He was about to give up when he saw a flash of something; a little head peek out from a corner of one of the distant rooms. Then she disappeared.
“Aleia…” He whispered before starting to yell her name and beat harder. He saw her head peak out once more a few seconds later. She was cowering so he stopped yelling and moving in general. She walked into complete view and he smiled widely; she grew up so much since he last saw her. “Aleia…”
“Папа?” (Daddy?) She said more to herself as she moved around trying to get a better look from where she stood still quite a few feet away from the door; she wasn’t allowed to go near that door without “mommy” or Mayine- and they weren’t there. She rubbed her wet eyes with her sleeves.
“Відкрити двері, Aleia.” He spoke not even thinking about the little girl understanding a word he was saying. Recognizing his voice was enough for her, even if she couldn’t understand Ukrainian, she still would have done what she had. Her eyes widened the size of golf balls and she yelled ‘Daddy’ before running to the door. “Не наступайте на скло.” (Don’t step on the glass he warned, making she she wouldn’t get hurt.
Youri jiggled the door knob again; Aleia stood on her tippy-toes to reach up to the lock. She turned the little contraption and then grabbed the nob twisting it down. Youri grabbed the swinging door and slowly opened it after Aleia’s tiny face popped into view around it. She attacked his leg before he could step fully inside. He bent down to her level and she hugged tightly onto his neck.
“Чому ти пішов?” (Why you leave?) She talked exasperatedly; she pouted and scolded him for leaving her.
“Я не буду коли-небудь залишить вас знову, добре? Я обіцяю.” (I won’t ever leave you again, okay? I promise.) He looked her in the eyes then, and as he spoke the dullness in those small eyes came back to light. Her eyes sparkled as did her smile, which lit up the room and then some. He took her cheeks in his hands, whipping away the remaining wet trails and he kissed her sloppily on the forehead, making her giggle. He picked her up in his arm and he walked towards the hallway, looking in each of the room while yelling out both Océane and Ibrahim’s names.
He stopped dead in his tracks when Ibrahim surfaced from out of the far room; blood staining his clothing and hands. He looked pale, even with his naturally tanned skin. He looked shocked and afraid standing there in the middle of the doorway, alone. His small figure had gotten bigger but there was no doubt that he wasn’t the size of other 3 year olds. He looked okay, but Youri knew that half of the problem probably came from the issue of food.
Youri fumed as he motioned for Ibrahim to come to him. He crouched down again even on his knees, hunched down some more to look Ibrahim in the eyes. Aleia temporarily let go but still stuck close, her little hand on Youri’s back out of reassurance.
“Іди сюди приятель.” (Come here buddy.) Ibrahim smiled a crooked smile before walking into Youri’s extended arms. Youri brushed away Ibrahim’s hair out of his eyes before he spoke more. But he didn’t really get that chance- Ibrahim pulled away and looked Youri in the eyes as tears came from his own.
“Папа, мама боляче. Вона звичай рухатися-“(Daddy, mommy hurt. Her wont move-) He wailed loudly. Youri shushed him, knowing the danger Océane was in if that was the case. Youri was panicking, but he knew he had to put on that mask; mask that fear and act calm in front of the twins. He mastered this staying on the base for those past 10 or so months, he was able to put up this ‘okay’ front even though he hurt extremely bad inside, emotionally.
Although he would admit, there was no disguising the shock that came to his face whenever he heard himself be referred to as ‘daddy’ and Océane now as “mommy.” But it was mostly the “daddy;” the concept hadn’t even registered in his mind when Aleia had yelled it, only now that Ibrahim spoke about it, did he really notice its use.
He used his arm to bring Aleia back in front of him before speaking to them both.
“Мами буде в порядку. Я збираюся допомогти їй. Ви мені потрібні дві бути сміливим добре, піти і отримати всі свої речі. Знайти щось поклав його в пакет і це добре? І швидше!” (Mommy's going to be okay. I'm gonna go help her. I need you two to be brave okay, go and get all your stuff. Find something to put it in and pack it up alright? And hurry!)
They both nodded as he looked at each of them individually; they reluctantly left Youri’s side and ran into other rooms. Youri stood up, the blood rushing to his head, making the room spin and his vision go all of a sudden black. Still he pushed on, his hearing wavered but he used the wall to his side to keep going until his vision came back. He creaked the door to the room Ibrahim came out of, open and found Océane laying on the floor all bloodied, on her stomach. He briefly gagged but covered it over with a cough.
“Océane” He whispered her named as he dropped to his knees for the third time since coming into the house. He saw the gash on her head but didn’t know how bad it was. He grabbed a pillow off the nearby bed and ripped the covering from the fluffiness of the pillow itself. He pressed the thin, balled up cloth to her forehead and temple before fumbling to grab his cell phone from out of his front pocket.
“Мені потрібна швидка допомога!” (I need an ambulance!) He yelled once calling the hospital’s number, obviously that would be his reason for calling the emergency number wouldn’t you think-
-
Youri sat in the large, open waiting room. People came in and out constantly; while he was stuck there in the corner keeping an eye on the entrance door that the ambulance rushed Océane through not to long prior. Aleia and Ibrahim sat on his lap, both were quietly sleeping. Aleia had a strong grip onto the front of his shirt, preventing him from leaving her. Ibrahim was mute, numb. He hadn’t spoken again to Youri after telling him about Océane, hours before.
He sighed watching yet another ambulance come into the drop of outside the huge windows and rush in what looked like an older man.
Océane didn’t belong here, she was too young, and she shouldn’t be going through what she was.
Youri felt horrible, heartbroken even more than ever before as he thought about how he could have tried to prevent it all from happening. He had trusted Mayine…Now he wanted to kill the son of a bitch with his bare hands. He wanted to inflict pain upon the man that hurt her, as well as him. It’s my fault kept echoing hi Youri’s mind. He could have done things differently. If he just put up with the pain in his leg just a little longer. If he hadn’t needed surgery, if he could have got better faster or didn’t get sick- he could have found the three of them and he wouldn’t need to see them all broken and hurt like they were now.
Little tummy’s rumbled of hunger, making both wake up and moan in sadness.
Of course Youri wasn’t going to dare deprive their little bodies of food.
“Давай вам два їжі.” (Let’s go get you two food.) Youri stood up and took one of their hands in each of his own. Aleia mumbled something causing him to ask what she said again. He was crouched down again; looking at her shy, afraid face.
“Чи можу я отримати торт?” (Can I get cake?) She whispered and winced when she heard Youri laugh.
“Мила, ви можете отримати всі ваші бажання мало животик.” (Sweetheart, you can get anything your little tummy desires.) He poked her tummy as he told her that and she giggled, smiling and holding her tummy to prevent him from tickling her again. Her eyes lit up with possibilities as Youri returned her hug and pecked her cheek.
“Я хочу шоколадний торт з картоплею фрі і маслом глазур вершками і шоколадним сиропом і бризкають!” (I want chocwate cake with chocwate chips and buter cweam fwosting and chocwate syrup and sprinkles!) She jumped up and down anxiously. Youri laughed more and Ibrahim smiled widely nodding and adding a “me too, me too” to the conversation.
“Добре, добре. Але спочатку ми маємо гарне харчування. Тоді ви можете мати пиріг.” (Okay, okay. But first we're getting good food. Then you can have cake.) Youri stood and took the two bubbly children down the hallways towards the cafeteria. The people all around ‘awwed’ and smiled warmly as they saw Youri walking with the two “youngsters.” The twins in a way made the otherwise gloomy atmosphere, a bit more bearable.
-
“Алло?” (Hello?) Youri’s father spoke out of breath with a fast beating heart. He was a bit panicky as he heard the telephone ringing at a few minutes past midnight. He shot up in bed, as did his wife, and he practically fell out of bed trying to reach the phone.
“Алло? Чи є це пан Тимошенко?” (Hello? Is this Mr.Timoshenko?) The overly polite, sweet voiced woman asked.
“Так, це він. Хто я говорив” (Yes, this is he. Who am I speaking to?) He breathed in harshly, holding his breath for what was to come. He hoped for the best but feared for the worse. Ever since Youri up and left he feared for his son’s life, wondering when the time would come when Youri would be needed back at base, and he just wouldn’t show up. Out of trust, they usually call around to contacts trying to reach the missing soldier before sending out a warrant to send him to trail. Mr. Timoshenko feared this would be that call was he would have to explain things to the army-
“Це Олена, з Білої Церкви лікарню генерал. Я дзвоню, щоб повідомити вам, що ваша дочка дуже добре, ваш син її з нею, і вона стабільна, таким чином Ви не повинні хвилюватися.” (This is Helena, from Belaya Tserkov General hospital. I'm calling to inform you that your daughter is just fine, your son is here with her and she's stable so you need not worry.)
“Почекайте, почекайте. Моя дочка?” (Wait, wait. My daughter?) My Timoshenko’s eyes widened as he looked back to his equally shocked wife. “Яка дочка, пані?” (Which daughter, ma'am?)
“Océane Тимошенко, сер” (Océane Timoshenko, sir.)
“Océane?” He questioned not only the woman but also his wife and himself. ‘Océane who?!:’ his mind screamed and circled in wonder.
“Так, Юрій я вважаю, це його ім'я прийшло разом з нею ... його дружина?” (Yes, Youri. I believe is his name, came in with her... his wife?) The telephone dropped to the ground disconnecting the call instantly on contact.
His wife…
“Aleia…” He whispered before starting to yell her name and beat harder. He saw her head peak out once more a few seconds later. She was cowering so he stopped yelling and moving in general. She walked into complete view and he smiled widely; she grew up so much since he last saw her. “Aleia…”
“Папа?” (Daddy?) She said more to herself as she moved around trying to get a better look from where she stood still quite a few feet away from the door; she wasn’t allowed to go near that door without “mommy” or Mayine- and they weren’t there. She rubbed her wet eyes with her sleeves.
“Відкрити двері, Aleia.” He spoke not even thinking about the little girl understanding a word he was saying. Recognizing his voice was enough for her, even if she couldn’t understand Ukrainian, she still would have done what she had. Her eyes widened the size of golf balls and she yelled ‘Daddy’ before running to the door. “Не наступайте на скло.” (Don’t step on the glass he warned, making she she wouldn’t get hurt.
Youri jiggled the door knob again; Aleia stood on her tippy-toes to reach up to the lock. She turned the little contraption and then grabbed the nob twisting it down. Youri grabbed the swinging door and slowly opened it after Aleia’s tiny face popped into view around it. She attacked his leg before he could step fully inside. He bent down to her level and she hugged tightly onto his neck.
“Чому ти пішов?” (Why you leave?) She talked exasperatedly; she pouted and scolded him for leaving her.
“Я не буду коли-небудь залишить вас знову, добре? Я обіцяю.” (I won’t ever leave you again, okay? I promise.) He looked her in the eyes then, and as he spoke the dullness in those small eyes came back to light. Her eyes sparkled as did her smile, which lit up the room and then some. He took her cheeks in his hands, whipping away the remaining wet trails and he kissed her sloppily on the forehead, making her giggle. He picked her up in his arm and he walked towards the hallway, looking in each of the room while yelling out both Océane and Ibrahim’s names.
He stopped dead in his tracks when Ibrahim surfaced from out of the far room; blood staining his clothing and hands. He looked pale, even with his naturally tanned skin. He looked shocked and afraid standing there in the middle of the doorway, alone. His small figure had gotten bigger but there was no doubt that he wasn’t the size of other 3 year olds. He looked okay, but Youri knew that half of the problem probably came from the issue of food.
Youri fumed as he motioned for Ibrahim to come to him. He crouched down again even on his knees, hunched down some more to look Ibrahim in the eyes. Aleia temporarily let go but still stuck close, her little hand on Youri’s back out of reassurance.
“Іди сюди приятель.” (Come here buddy.) Ibrahim smiled a crooked smile before walking into Youri’s extended arms. Youri brushed away Ibrahim’s hair out of his eyes before he spoke more. But he didn’t really get that chance- Ibrahim pulled away and looked Youri in the eyes as tears came from his own.
“Папа, мама боляче. Вона звичай рухатися-“(Daddy, mommy hurt. Her wont move-) He wailed loudly. Youri shushed him, knowing the danger Océane was in if that was the case. Youri was panicking, but he knew he had to put on that mask; mask that fear and act calm in front of the twins. He mastered this staying on the base for those past 10 or so months, he was able to put up this ‘okay’ front even though he hurt extremely bad inside, emotionally.
Although he would admit, there was no disguising the shock that came to his face whenever he heard himself be referred to as ‘daddy’ and Océane now as “mommy.” But it was mostly the “daddy;” the concept hadn’t even registered in his mind when Aleia had yelled it, only now that Ibrahim spoke about it, did he really notice its use.
He used his arm to bring Aleia back in front of him before speaking to them both.
“Мами буде в порядку. Я збираюся допомогти їй. Ви мені потрібні дві бути сміливим добре, піти і отримати всі свої речі. Знайти щось поклав його в пакет і це добре? І швидше!” (Mommy's going to be okay. I'm gonna go help her. I need you two to be brave okay, go and get all your stuff. Find something to put it in and pack it up alright? And hurry!)
They both nodded as he looked at each of them individually; they reluctantly left Youri’s side and ran into other rooms. Youri stood up, the blood rushing to his head, making the room spin and his vision go all of a sudden black. Still he pushed on, his hearing wavered but he used the wall to his side to keep going until his vision came back. He creaked the door to the room Ibrahim came out of, open and found Océane laying on the floor all bloodied, on her stomach. He briefly gagged but covered it over with a cough.
“Océane” He whispered her named as he dropped to his knees for the third time since coming into the house. He saw the gash on her head but didn’t know how bad it was. He grabbed a pillow off the nearby bed and ripped the covering from the fluffiness of the pillow itself. He pressed the thin, balled up cloth to her forehead and temple before fumbling to grab his cell phone from out of his front pocket.
“Мені потрібна швидка допомога!” (I need an ambulance!) He yelled once calling the hospital’s number, obviously that would be his reason for calling the emergency number wouldn’t you think-
-
Youri sat in the large, open waiting room. People came in and out constantly; while he was stuck there in the corner keeping an eye on the entrance door that the ambulance rushed Océane through not to long prior. Aleia and Ibrahim sat on his lap, both were quietly sleeping. Aleia had a strong grip onto the front of his shirt, preventing him from leaving her. Ibrahim was mute, numb. He hadn’t spoken again to Youri after telling him about Océane, hours before.
He sighed watching yet another ambulance come into the drop of outside the huge windows and rush in what looked like an older man.
Océane didn’t belong here, she was too young, and she shouldn’t be going through what she was.
Youri felt horrible, heartbroken even more than ever before as he thought about how he could have tried to prevent it all from happening. He had trusted Mayine…Now he wanted to kill the son of a bitch with his bare hands. He wanted to inflict pain upon the man that hurt her, as well as him. It’s my fault kept echoing hi Youri’s mind. He could have done things differently. If he just put up with the pain in his leg just a little longer. If he hadn’t needed surgery, if he could have got better faster or didn’t get sick- he could have found the three of them and he wouldn’t need to see them all broken and hurt like they were now.
Little tummy’s rumbled of hunger, making both wake up and moan in sadness.
Of course Youri wasn’t going to dare deprive their little bodies of food.
“Давай вам два їжі.” (Let’s go get you two food.) Youri stood up and took one of their hands in each of his own. Aleia mumbled something causing him to ask what she said again. He was crouched down again; looking at her shy, afraid face.
“Чи можу я отримати торт?” (Can I get cake?) She whispered and winced when she heard Youri laugh.
“Мила, ви можете отримати всі ваші бажання мало животик.” (Sweetheart, you can get anything your little tummy desires.) He poked her tummy as he told her that and she giggled, smiling and holding her tummy to prevent him from tickling her again. Her eyes lit up with possibilities as Youri returned her hug and pecked her cheek.
“Я хочу шоколадний торт з картоплею фрі і маслом глазур вершками і шоколадним сиропом і бризкають!” (I want chocwate cake with chocwate chips and buter cweam fwosting and chocwate syrup and sprinkles!) She jumped up and down anxiously. Youri laughed more and Ibrahim smiled widely nodding and adding a “me too, me too” to the conversation.
“Добре, добре. Але спочатку ми маємо гарне харчування. Тоді ви можете мати пиріг.” (Okay, okay. But first we're getting good food. Then you can have cake.) Youri stood and took the two bubbly children down the hallways towards the cafeteria. The people all around ‘awwed’ and smiled warmly as they saw Youri walking with the two “youngsters.” The twins in a way made the otherwise gloomy atmosphere, a bit more bearable.
-
“Алло?” (Hello?) Youri’s father spoke out of breath with a fast beating heart. He was a bit panicky as he heard the telephone ringing at a few minutes past midnight. He shot up in bed, as did his wife, and he practically fell out of bed trying to reach the phone.
“Алло? Чи є це пан Тимошенко?” (Hello? Is this Mr.Timoshenko?) The overly polite, sweet voiced woman asked.
“Так, це він. Хто я говорив” (Yes, this is he. Who am I speaking to?) He breathed in harshly, holding his breath for what was to come. He hoped for the best but feared for the worse. Ever since Youri up and left he feared for his son’s life, wondering when the time would come when Youri would be needed back at base, and he just wouldn’t show up. Out of trust, they usually call around to contacts trying to reach the missing soldier before sending out a warrant to send him to trail. Mr. Timoshenko feared this would be that call was he would have to explain things to the army-
“Це Олена, з Білої Церкви лікарню генерал. Я дзвоню, щоб повідомити вам, що ваша дочка дуже добре, ваш син її з нею, і вона стабільна, таким чином Ви не повинні хвилюватися.” (This is Helena, from Belaya Tserkov General hospital. I'm calling to inform you that your daughter is just fine, your son is here with her and she's stable so you need not worry.)
“Почекайте, почекайте. Моя дочка?” (Wait, wait. My daughter?) My Timoshenko’s eyes widened as he looked back to his equally shocked wife. “Яка дочка, пані?” (Which daughter, ma'am?)
“Océane Тимошенко, сер” (Océane Timoshenko, sir.)
“Océane?” He questioned not only the woman but also his wife and himself. ‘Océane who?!:’ his mind screamed and circled in wonder.
“Так, Юрій я вважаю, це його ім'я прийшло разом з нею ... його дружина?” (Yes, Youri. I believe is his name, came in with her... his wife?) The telephone dropped to the ground disconnecting the call instantly on contact.
His wife…