The Darkest Hours

It started with a death. My grandmother`s death. That`s when we inherited that old house. Grandmother, my mother`s mother, used to live in one of those old small towns in the forgotten areas in Eastern Europe. For most people moving there sounds like a nightmare. I preferred to think of it as a new beginning instead.
I vaguely remember my mother. She died days after my brother turned one. He doesn`t remember her but I being ten at that time still have some vivid memories.
Tragedy is tragedy, so there`s no point of describing all the crying and mourning. It is quite depressing anyway.
The day we found out that we now own a big house once belonged to a person I have never met in my life, was the day my Dad started making plans for our new future.
‘Stani, sweetheart, I think we deserve some rest from all that noise. It`ll be better if we change the surroundings a little bit.’
It was a warm Friday afternoon. Dad was sitting on the kitchen table drinking coffee. I had just come from school.
“You mean the old new house?”, I asked.
We called it the “old new house”. I and James thought of it as of mystery fairytale place, but Dad`s way of thinking was way more practical than ours.
I knew he had problems at work. He was also sad and lonely and he needed a place where he could find his inner peace.
“Yes”, he nodded.,” We can try. If you and James don`t like it we can always come back.”
I looked through the window. I wouldn`t miss the city at all. I didn`t have any real friends to feel sad for.
“What about work?”Any ideas how to find a job there?”
“Yes, I checked here and there.”, he answered unable to hide his smilebecause I couldn`t catch him unprepared, “There are a few nice firms in the area that need a computer programmer.”
“Then let`s start arranging everything.”, I smiled.
The facts that I was willing to go there made him happy. The whole idea about the moving out made him happy.
Actually Dad had never ever been in my mother`s country. She left home when she was young in searching for better life. A few years later she met Dad in college and they got married. My mother`s family didn`t really approve the fact that she married a foreigner, so they never spoke to her again.
I couldn`t really blame them. When I was a kid I spent so many evenings with mother talking about her homeland. I was sure I even knew things about her life that Dad himself wasn`t aware of. She would always find some time to tell me a story of her childhood, a local myth or legend.
“I am not really sure about James though.”, I felt the doubt in his voice.
“Don`t worry about him.”, I put my hand on Dad`s shoulder, ”He may cry a little bit but I know he`ll be fascinated by the idea of going there.”
I and James had no problem with the language at all. Mother had taught me how to speak it and I taught James. Dad had that really funny accent that probably would made the locals laugh but he could survive with some effort.
“We`ll discuss the details later then.”, he stood up, “We need James to join us for dinner first.”
We both laughed when we heard him screaming in joy from his room. He was probably playing computer games again.
“And now I don`t want you to think that I am trying to bargain or something but do you think you could cook for today?”, Dad gave me a totally innocent face while he was finishing his coffee.
“I don`t want you to think that I`m trying to find an excuse or something but I have a history test tomorrow.”
I picked my bag from the floor and made my way out of the room. Dad sighed loudly.