Grigoriy heard the music already on the stairs. Loud, rustic, silly music. He pushed open the door and froze.
In the middle of the room stood Anna, the cleaner, holding Alexey under his armpits, lifted above the armchair. She spun him, tapping along to the radio. The boy threw his head back and laughed, flailing his arms.
— Stop! — Grigoriy shouted so loudly that Anna almost dropped the child.
She quickly set Alexey down in the armchair, straightened the blanket. The music continued to blare. Grigoriy stepped over to the radio and pulled the plug from the socket.
— What are you doing? This is not a toy! His spine is injured, do you even understand?
— I was careful, I held him tightly…
— Careful?! — Grigoriy pulled money from his pocket and threw it on the table. — Here’s your week’s pay. Pack up, and don’t let me see you here again.
Anna picked up the bills, folded them, and put them in her coat pocket. She looked at Alexey — the boy had turned to the window, his face fearful. She left without saying goodbye.
Grigoriy approached his son, sat down next to him.
— Lyoshka, you understand… She could have dropped you, made it even worse.
Alexey remained silent. He stared out the window as if his father weren’t even in the room.
In the evening, the boy didn’t touch his food. He just sat, staring at one point. Grigoriy tried to speak to him — in vain. Alexey was silent, as if the accident three years ago, when he was brought home from the hospital, had happened again.
Grigoriy went to the kitchen, poured himself water, but didn’t drink. He sat down and buried his face in his hands.
For three years he had spent everything on doctors, masseurs, clinics. He sold the summer house, went into debt. He worked himself to exhaustion. And his son withdrew further, shut himself off, spoke less and less.
And today he laughed. For the first time in three years. And Grigoriy had destroyed it.
He went into his son’s room and sat on the floor next to the armchair.
— Does she often do this with you? — he asked quietly.
Alexey remained silent. Then quietly, through clenched teeth:
— Every day. She told me about the sea. That we’ll go there when I can stand. She believed I would stand.
Grigoriy’s throat tightened.
— Dad — Alexey turned to him, his eyes filled with such sorrow that Grigoriy couldn’t meet his gaze. — For the first time in three years I felt alive. And you sent her away.
Grigoriy had no words. His son turned away again.
The next morning Grigoriy went to the outskirts of the city, to a working-class neighborhood, where Anna lived. He found her building — an old panel apartment, peeling, with crooked balconies. He went up to the fourth floor and knocked.
Anna opened the door in her housecoat, surprised to see him. She didn’t let him in immediately, standing in the doorway.
— Grigoriy Ivanovich?
— May I come in?
She hesitated and stepped back. The narrow kitchen smelled of porridge, the floor covered with old linoleum. A geranium sat on the windowsill. Poor, but clean.
Grigoriy took off his hat, crumpling it in his hands. He stood in the kitchen like a schoolboy in front of the principal.
— I was wrong — he muttered, looking at the floor. — Completely wrong. I was scared you’d hurt him. But you… you were the only one who brought him back to life.
Anna remained silent, leaning against the fridge.
— He was silent all evening yesterday. As if it were after the accident, when he was brought home from the hospital.
He stared at the wall — Grigoriy lifted his eyes. — Then he said that you believed he would get better. That with you he felt alive. For the first time in three years.
Anna crossed her arms over her chest.
— You’re suffocating him — she said sharply. — Not the illness. You. With your fear.
It felt like a slap. Grigoriy clenched his fists but said nothing.
— You keep him in four walls like a cage. You hire doctors, buy ointments, but you don’t let him live. — She looked him in the eye.
— Do you know what’s the scariest thing? Not that he’s in a chair. But that he’s lost the desire. For anything.
— I’m just afraid of hurting him — Grigoriy’s voice broke. — I do everything to make it easier for him…
— Easier? — Anna shook her head. — Not easier. Empty. You’ve hidden him from life, though he wants to live.
Grigoriy sat down on a chair, burying his face in his hands.
— Come back. Please. I won’t interfere. Do what you think is right. Just come back.
Anna was silent for a long time. Then she sighed.
— Fine. But I will do it my way. Without your restrictions. Agreed?
— Agreed — he nodded, without raising his head.
Anna returned that same day. Alexey saw her in the doorway and couldn’t contain himself — he began to cry like a little child. She went to him, hugged him, stroked his head. Grigoriy stood in the hallway, not daring to enter.
From that day on, he stopped controlling things. Anna came every morning, turned on music, talked to Alexey, laughed with him.
Grigoriy sat in the kitchen, listening to the laughter, realizing that he had done everything wrong for three years. He had tried to buy his son’s health, instead of simply letting him live.
A week later, he reduced his work hours, started coming home earlier. He hired fewer drivers at the warehouse, so as not to overwork himself. There was less money. But he saw Alexey come alive again. He spoke, laughed, argued again.
One evening the three of them sat at the table. They were having dinner, Anna was telling a story from her childhood, and Alexey listened attentively. Grigoriy watched them, and suddenly realized: this is like a family. Real.
— Anna, can I ask you something? — he put down his fork.
— Of course.
— I want to build a playground. In the park. For kids like Lyoshka. So they can play, socialize. Will you help me with it?
Anna looked at him, surprised.
— Seriously?
— Seriously — he nodded. — For three years I only thought about how to cure him. I should have been thinking about how he should live. You showed me that.
Alexey looked at his father with wide eyes.
— Dad, really? Will there be other kids?
— Really, son. I promise.
Two months later the playground was ready. Grigoriy found contractors and funded everything with his savings. Wide paths, ramps, smooth surface. A canopy against the rain. Benches for the parents.
On the day of the opening, they arrived together. Alexey sat in his chair, looking around in awe as if seeing the world for the first time. There were a few other kids in wheelchairs, accompanied by parents.
Anna went up to a woman, spoke to her, pointing to Alexey. The woman nodded and brought her daughter closer.
— Dad, look! — the boy tugged at his father’s sleeve. — There’s a girl. Can I say hi to her?
— Of course — Grigoriy swallowed. — Go.
Anna took him to the children. Grigoriy stayed at the entrance, watching his son laugh, wave his hands, and tell stories. Alive. Real.
Anna turned around, looking at him from afar. He nodded at her. She smiled.
And that evening, Alexey didn’t go silent as before.
He told them about a girl named Marina, a boy named Denis, and that Anna had promised to bring him here every week. Grigoriy listened, nodded, and for the first time in a long while felt that everything would be alright. Not immediately. But alright.
He realized the most important thing: sometimes love is not protection from the world. It is the chance to step into it.
