wriTE SOME...... sibling stuff between andrei & marya. maybe throw nikolushka into the mis. we love a family
“I remember when you were like that.”
Marya smiles at Andrei, curious as to what he means. The siblings are reclining in wicker chairs in the shade of the orchard, watching Nikolushka, all of five years old, playing a game of his own invention among the gnarled trees. It’s midsummer-July- and despite the breeze and the tall white clouds framing the eggshell blue of the sky, it’s too hot to do much other than enjoy the sun as quietly as possible- unless, of course, you are five and bouncing with boundless energy. Nikolushka’s complex play, seemingly involving a stick and invisible friends and foes, will no doubt tire him in time for a nap, and the heat later this afternoon will lend a good excuse to requesting shaved ice before dinner. It is a peaceful day.
“Like what?” asks Marya, glancing at her nephew. “Like him?”
“I do,” Andrei replies. He meets her bright eyes briefly, then returns his gaze to his son with a shining expression of parental joy. Something new and soft has lit his heart, and in the summer light he is existing in the balmy, perfect moment of watching his child. “You were a skinny little thing, but on the rare chances we did play you were a terror! Faster than me, I remember. You’d grab me by the legs and I’d fall to the ground every time.”
“I can remember you driving the pony cart for me,” Marya tells him, looking far-off and wistful. “You weren’t very good at it yet, but you were determined to impress me.”
“Did I?” he asks, with a genuine chuckle of joy.
“I suppose so.” she responds, and tucks her hair behind her ear, for a moment lost in thought. “Although I was so in awe of you. Greatest bigger brother.”
“I can remember when you were born,” he offers, over the sound of a joyful shout from the littlest Bolkonsky. She laughs and shakes her head.
“No you can’t.”
“I bet you I can. You just don’t believe me.”
“Hush!” Marya shoves her brother, playfully. For a moment the pain of the past few years have dropped away between them and they are so tenderly young again, siblings with the world before them. A love and a bond that has persisted. There’s another, smaller, peal of laughter and they turn to see Nikolushka running towards them, dragging his stick.
Andrei stands to swoop his son off his feet and hold him high above his head. “Kolushka, hello little warrior!” he exclaims, and pulls him close to kiss him. The boy shrieks in delight.
Marya puts her arm around her brother’s shoulder and takes her nephew’s small hand. “Was it fun?” she asks him. He nods, his eyes brilliant.
“Shall we go back. then. darling?” Andrei asks the boy.
“Yes, papa,” he responds, tucking his face into his father’s shoulder. “Will we have tea? Will you read me a book?”
“All that and more,” Andrei tells him, with the greatest sincerity. Marya smiles again, her eyes glittering.
The siblings fall in step together, making their way back up the hill to their home. They walk slowly, taking their time, along the way recollecting their childhood, occasionally stopping to tease one another, or feint a push into the ditch. The boy rests his cheek against Andrei as he rests in his arms, watching the sky. By the time the three return to the house, he is blissfully, totally, asleep. Andrei lays him gently on the settee, finally feeling, deep in his heart, a peace.
