Family

No matter how heavy the rain poured or the snow fell, blanketing the sky with thick, oppressive clouds, there was always hope for a sunny day. And that day came—it was the very same marvelous, sunny, frosty day, on the eve of the New Year.

Vadim and Artem lived in a small private house located in a tiny residential neighborhood within the city limits. On the outside, their house stood out for its neatness. The walls were painted a beautiful shade of blue, and the white, intricately carved decorations in the Byzantine style were all made by them, as professional artists skilled in applied arts and folk crafts.

The house was divided into two parts: the back half, where their joint creative workshop was temporarily set up, and the front half, which contained two small rooms—niches—connected by a large kitchen with a real village stove and a spacious dining table that could accommodate a large group.

Everything in the house was light: light beige floors covered entirely by a solid-colored rug, white furniture, doors, and ceilings, a bedroom with soft green walls, and a room with walls the color of sky blue. Of course, this was in Artem's style, a lover of pastel colors and tones, in contrast to Vadim—an unabashed impressionist in every way.

"I don't want to go to school today!" Artem started whining, stretching in bed. "I want to lie around all day. My God! What a sunny day!"

"You need to go today, you have an important test," Vadim grumbled at him.

"Again Sasha will splash paint everywhere, and Ilya will come up with some nasty prank," Artem grumbled, yawning.

"You're thirty-two years old, you're a man! A teacher, for heaven's sake! Get a grip and don't let them off the hook!" Vadim motivated him, as if preparing for a boxing match.

"Dad! Can I stay with you today?" pleaded little Nai, pulling on Artem's sleeve.

He loved being at his father's lessons and watching as wonderfully beautiful landscapes and still lifes appeared on the blank canvas, so lifelike that one wanted to touch them—and even eat them. Moreover, Nai could draw all day long and would do so endlessly, occasionally getting distracted by mischief with his father's students, who were much older than Nai but played with him happily.

"Of course you can," Artem said to Nai.

Nai was growing up to be a happy and cheerful boy, enveloped in the love of his large family. He was unusually wise for his six years, but this was an evident result of Vadim's genetics—always too proper, intelligent, erudite, and deeply thoughtful, which often led him to adopt a stern demeanor, though he was incredibly tender and kind, a grumbling soul who adored his marvelous offspring. Nai's hair would humorously curl up after sleep, framing his face like a halo. In those moments, Nai resembled an angel, with enormous, deep blue eyes, bright lips, and round cheeks that one always longed to gently tousle.

It was a playful irony of nature, for externally, Nai was a perfect copy of Artem, but in character, he was more like Vadim — with the maturity of his reasoning and piercing gaze, traits he had inherited from Vadim, which often amazed adults with a wisdom unexpected from a child. Nai's outward resemblance to Artem did not make Vadim any less of a father to him, as it was clear that it was Vadim's influence that shaped this particular aspect of his character. To anyone unfamiliar with the family dynamics, it was almost impossible not to assume that Artem was Nai's father. The boy always called Artem "Papa" and referred to Vadim simply by name, confusing those around them. This odd blend of nature and nurture was a subtle joke in their family.

Artem scooped Nai into his arms and hugged him tightly, burying his nose in his hair. The boy burst into peals of laughter, pretending to want to escape from his father's tight grip.

"Hold him tight!" Vadim joyfully commanded, aiming a spoon filled with freshly made porridge at Nai like a weapon—well, a rather warm one in this case—and, with a mock frown, began to advance on his son, pretending to threaten that if Nai didn't eat his porridge, he'd be punished with kisses so intense they would make him laugh until his belly ached.

"Nai opened his mouth in mock terror, and Vadim deftly slid in the first full spoon of porridge. The boy eagerly licked the spoon clean."

"Wow! Your porridge is like cream on a cake! So de-licious!" he exclaimed, and, wriggling free from Artem's arms—who had momentarily loosened his grip—he dashed around the room, laughing joyously, playing tag with Vadim, occasionally running up to him and grabbing another helping of porridge like a fish.

"Come on, come on, get up!" Vadim commanded Artem. "Your porridge is cooling down on the table, and soon a crust will form, and you'll start whining that it's lumpy. Go eat! Quickly!"

"You should've sprinkled sugar on it!" Artem hurriedly said, getting out of bed.

"I did sprinkle it." Vadim replied irritably. "But you'll still whine."

"I'm not that picky…" Artem pouted, pretending to be offended.

"Picky! Picky!" Nai laughed, supporting Vadim.

"I'll eat you up right now!" Artem promised Nai, grabbing him again in a tight hug and showering him with kisses, spinning him around in his arms like a doll while the boy burst into laughter.

"Leave the kid alone and go have breakfast," Vadim smiled, starting to pull Artem away. "Since you're so hungry!"

"Pa! I'm not porridge!" Nai protested, still laughing.

"You're much tastier!" Artem said.

Then, together, they looked at Vadim:

"What's this? What's going on?" Vadim protested in surprise.

Without a word to each other, Artem and Nai pounced on Vadim, knocking him onto the bed:

"You're even tastier!" Nai shouted, triumphantly sitting on his father.

"Nai, pick up your toys," Vadim began to give orders again. "Or your aunts and uncles will come and trip over them."

"What about Uncle Kirill?" Nai asked, worried that Kirill might not be coming.

"Where would your Kirill go, stuck to your Aunt Anya like that?" Vadim replied, a bit exasperated, but with a touch of incredulity. "Of course, he'll be here. And Max will come too."

"Where would your Kirill go, he's stuck to your Aunt Anya like a leech?" Vadim replied. "Of course, he'll be here, and Max will come too."

"Hooray!" Nai jumped up, delighted. "That means I'll be an acrobat today again!"

Nai and Kirill had already established a tradition: upon meeting, Nai would grab his hands and, planting his foot in Kirill's stomach, flip over his head. He loved this trick and awaited Kirill's arrival as if it were a holiday. He quickly gathered all the toys from the floor, scooped them up into his arms, and poured them into the toy chest. Pretending to be an airplane, he ran in circles, making a quick turn towards Vadim for another serving of porridge.

"Mid-flight refueling!" Vadim announced, like a dispatcher, as he supplied his son with another spoonful of porridge.

"When are we going to decorate the tree?" Artem asked. "It's already the thirty-first."

"As soon as Kirill brings it," Vadim replied.

"Is Kirill going to be Santa Claus today?" Nai asked excitedly.

The doorbell rang. Artem opened the door, and into the apartment tumbled two enormous heaps of things, overloaded with bags, gift boxes, tinsel, and various other New Year's clutter. As the tinsel was pushed aside, he uncovered the face of the first mound of holiday chaos and recognized her.

The doorbell rang. Artem opened the door, and into the apartment tumbled two enormous heaps of things, overloaded with bags, gift boxes, tinsel, and various other New Year's clutter. Digging through the top of the heap, Artem uncovered the face of the first mound of holiday chaos and recognized her.

"Aha! Dasha! Hello!" Artem joked.

"I'll smack you with all these bags right now!" the girl huffed. "Carefully take everything and put it in that corner," she pointed to the far corner of the room. "Be careful, it's all glass. Max, where are you?" she yelled outside through the door.

In walked Max, as always impeccably dressed and composed, holding a large white bag with a box inside — something the girls couldn't possibly carry, but perfectly in keeping with his stylish appearance.

Nai happily hopped around both piles, scanning for anything interesting or tasty. Both heaps carried the coolness of winter and the scent of a frosty day.

"Are you all going to leave me unpacked?" came the indignantly muffled voice from the second mound of bags and presents.

"Well, I suppose that's Anya. Better be careful with her," Vadim commented cautiously, gesturing at the mound with his spoon.

"And how did you figure that out?" Anya asked, her tone sharp with mock disbelief. "With your one and only brain cell, just a little lower than your waistline?"

"Alright, alright," Vadim soothed her, beginning to unpack her things. "I think with what I've got, that's the best I can manage."

"Yeah, you can't use any of your wits, either top or bottom," Anya continued grumbling.

The door swung open again, and along with a rush of cold air, Kirill stumbled in, dragging behind him a massive, real Christmas tree. Nai's eyes widened with joy and surprise—there were even real pinecones on the tree, and they smelled so good. Without wasting a second, Nai snatched one off the tree and squatted in the middle of the room, turning the still-frosty cone in his hands and inhaling deeply the resinous scent.

"Prickly, and smells like a hedgehog," he said in awe.

The adults immediately burst into laughter at his comment.

Kirill expertly tossed the tripod he had been dragging with the tree into the corner.

"Stay back," he said to Max, who was about to help him with the tree. "You'll ruin your whole outfit." With effortless grace, he positioned the grand tree into the tripod.

"Oh! What a beauty!"

"No need to decorate it," Max remarked, admiring its beauty.

"Of course, you'd rather do nothing at all!" Dasha grumbled at Max.

Max kissed her on the nose, and Dasha immediately softened. Max then turned his attention to helping with the bags that the girls were carrying.

The pleasant scent of the forest spread through the room from the tree, each of its needles sparkling with the warmth and moisture of the house, which immediately covered the fluffy beauty. Nai sat, mesmerized, staring at the huge tree that took up no less than a quarter of the entire room, reaching all the way to the ceiling, breathing in the scent of the pine cone.

"Alright!" Dasha began issuing orders, clearly establishing herself as the mistress of the house. "Vadim, get the porridge ready for everyone. You've already eaten, enough!" she added, pointing at Nai and Artem. "Hurry up and get ready for school. Kirill! Why are you standing there like a statue?" she continued without taking a breath. 

"Why did you grab the toys? You'll break them, and then we'll have to clean up all the shards! There are carpets everywhere, and the child will hurt himself if you drop something. Put them down carefully!" she spoke as though he were holding a grenade without a pin. "Lower… lower… carefully… there. Well done!" she concluded, satisfied. "Max, sort out the toys and don't let Kirill near them. Now, you two," she addressed Kirill and Vadim, "take the box with the garlands and untangle them, check them, and hang them on the tree. That's all you need to do; then you can go to work so you're not in the way. That's it!" She scanned the room, making sure all the men were aware of their roles.

"What about the porridge?" Vadim asked, already preparing to cook for the whole quartet.

"Well, cook it and get out of here. Kirill can manage the garland by himself," Anya now took over the orders.

"I'll help," Artem said, heading over to Kirill.

"No way!" Anya protested. "Get the kid dressed and go to school! Your classes start in an hour."

"Max, help Kirill!" Dasha commanded.

"Yes, dear," Max answered obligingly and immediately got to work, subtly hiding behind Kirill's broad back from Dasha, just in case.

"Mean old headmistress!" Artem muttered at Anya. "There's no escape from you, even at home…" he grumbled as he went to dress the beaming Nai.

Vadim served the remaining porridge to Kirill, which turned out to be a full portion. 

"Now, for you, I'll make it with lumps!" Vadim threatened, turning to Anya.

"Alright, I get why you're taking it out on Anya and me, but why are you getting back at Max?" Dasha asked, genuinely puzzled.

"I know Max doesn't eat porridge," Artem replied with a hint of threat in his voice.

"Never mind if it's burnt! I'm starving like a horse and will eat anything," Anya said, panting.

The girls had just freed themselves from all their burdens and heavy winter coats, sitting, sweaty from the frantic morning dash through the stores to buy gifts for today's celebration. She grabbed her overstuffed bag, struggling to pull out a thick photo album, which she then handed to Max, who was sitting beside her. 

Nai ran up to him and started flipping through the album, looking at the photos of all those he loved so dearly: Papa Artem, Vadim, Aunt Anya, Aunt Dasha, and, of course, Uncle Kirill with Max. But they were all much younger in the photos and unbelievably beautiful. He stopped at a picture from their graduation, where the five of them stood in black gowns and oddly shaped caps with tassels, holding beautiful blue folders with gold embossing. 

"Why is everyone dressed like this?" Nai asked. "Where's Kirill?"