Diana Nevidal "The Door"

It is not easy toВ write aВ CV for someone who is only three years old. His life history has not yet shaped him as aВ person, he cannot yet share his views on politics and the environmental situation inВ the world.

His birth story wasn’t anything special, he was lying in a city maternity hospital just like hundreds of others. He was learning to crawl and hold a spoon, just as billions of others have learned before him and billions more will learn afterwards.

At least we can try and start with his appearance. After he was born, he looked exactly like aВ potato, as all children except for your own do. ToВ his parents, he was the most beautiful thing from day one, but byВ the time he was three years old other people could see this as well. Now they could roughly imagine what he would eventually grow up toВ be.

And he promised toВ grow up, if not dashing, then at least quite handsome.

Given the range ofВ characteristics his parents possessed, Mark could have turned out rather comical and unsightly, but genetics were favourable.

Somehow, he was born with big sky-blue eyes, which then one day became almost as black as his mother’s, and after that they began to lighten again, resulting in a beautiful dark blue colour on his iris.

His hair, black and stiff like Agatha’s, was wavy, just a bit short of Arthur’s curls.

He took after his mother in many ways, but the huge smile that played across his face so often was clearly his father’s.

The parsing ofВ the appearance has not yet been able toВ determine what he has inherited from other relatives, but at three years old you can still wait on that.

More importantly, our youngest of the heroes was already showing that appearance would clearly not be the main achievement in his formed personality – the boy was already charismatic. One day he almost organized an escape from his kindergarten, and the whole group was ready to follow him.

All in all, grandparents can safely go on saying that he will break more than one girl’s heart, and they will probably be right.

Except that Mark himself doesn’t like it when people say that. He, to be honest, wouldn’t like to break anything. If he was punished for a broken salad bowl, which turned out to be a bad option for trying to ride it down the corridor, what are the consequences of a broken heart then?

Well, what else? Unlike many other boys his age, Mark did not earn his authority among his classmates by force. He had always been a soft and vulnerable child, which made Agatha sigh heavily and longingly. But time after time she reminded herself that stamina and the ability to stand up for oneself and stand one’s ground were skills that people are not born with, they take time to develop.

As for Mark’s own desires, becoming seasoned and hardened was not one of his priorities. He did, however, prioritize dinosaurs, cartoons and banana pudding, which was also very good.

CHAPTER 4: JГјrgen and somewhere around

Jürgen rambled softly as it was warming up. Outside, a snowstorm was howling with its snowiness. It was still chilly, but the heater was already filling the insides of the car with life-saving warmth. At the wheel sat a huge man in an enormous winter jacket – how the pair of them fit into the seat will forever remain a mystery.

He was beginning toВ feel aВ little hot, so he decided toВ take off at least the jacket. He did not want toВ go outside, which meant that he had toВ display the kind ofВ flexibility that such aВ huge human body should not be able toВ do inВ confined spaces, toВ the envy ofВ all the snake-women from Cirque Du Soleil.[10 - AВ world-famous Canadian circus troupe.]

Actually, Thur didn’t know if Cirque Du Soleil had any snake-women, but if not, it was clearly an oversight on their part. It didn’t change the point: the man’s body size was too much for taking his jacket off with no assistance, it’s not as mundane as it is for most people. There was only one saving grace: he was the only one in the car, and this time there should have been no casualties.

However, once the jacket was defeated, this loneliness began to weigh on him and seemed to be rather exacerbating. Twenty minutes ago, they should have been already on the road – if nothing changes soon, they can safely wrap it up and not go anywhere at all.

This is where any reasonable reader should be prepared to insert their five cents – why not call? Why not text? Who is better off if the trip ends up being cancelled? And a reasonable reader might be absolutely right, but not this time.

Well, please, let’s live together friendlily.

The bearded man leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to prepare himself for any outcome. He was not very good at it – the blood was throbbing in his temples, and he could not breathe calmly at all.

The big metal front door ofВ their house opened and let two people out into the world. They were immediately swept away byВ aВ blizzard, aВ gust ofВ icy wind with razor-sharp little icicles. The larger figure rushed confidently towards the car, towing the smaller one behindВ it.

The little person was stubborn and refused toВ move his legs. Thankfully, the snow had been cleared away and had not yet managed toВ cover the ice, so instead ofВ ramming the thick layer ofВ icy white powder with his whole body, one could see aВ comical pair skating element which was not at all inВ tune with the general mood.

The car door opened, the blizzard didn’t miss its chance and hundreds of thousands of little shurikens[11 - Japanese concealed-carry throwing weapons, «throwing stars».] of ice slammed into Artur’s unprotected neck. However, the pain of the cold could not overcome the disturbing disappointment that came over the man at the sight of the expression on his wife’s face.

The conflict was not resolved. The miserable hope that the storm had passed had quit ofВ its own accord. The trip promised toВ be noВ fun.

While Agatha buckled her frowning son into the child seat and unbuttoned his jacket, Arthur ran his fingers nervously over the rough surface ofВ the steering wheel.

This has never happened before. Today, the unstoppable force ran into an unbreakable obstacle. The scythe found a rock. The wave came upon… also upon a rock.

Like flashbacks from the battlefield, this morning came back toВ Arthur. Picture after picture began toВ appear inВ his mind.

Here was still aВ good morning. The pancakes for breakfast were delicious, the kettle whistled cosily on the cooker, the plaid lay softly on my shoulders and my slippers hugged my feet gently.

Now it’s time for breakfast for the rest of the household.

Here the cups are already set out, plump crispy rounds have been placed on plates and IВ need toВ walk towards the rooms toВ call everyoneВ in.

No, as it turned out, there was no need to go. I should have stayed where I was and should’ve sat on a chair in the embrace of a plaid and in the company of a friendly mug of coffee.

On the way to the door, something was amiss. My wife’s voice was ringing with metal, and Mark was making a mooing sound, about to turn into a roar.

Never mind that our son is not a morning person, that’s nothing new. More than once in the morning, when he has to go to an extra-curricular activity or to a kindergarten, he wakes up determined to fight for his soft bed and a warm blanket to the end.

It’s all right, after about fifteen minutes of washing up, the world will change dramatically in his eyes. Everything will be nice and calm again.

Why couldn’t things get nice and calm this time?

Can teenage rebellion begin at three years ofВ age?

This time, after washing up, Mark wasn’t distracted by the birds outside the window or impressed by the delicious pancakes. A small scowl and eyes full of resentment continued to follow Agatha until she turned her back to him, reaching the cupboard to get some herbs for her tea.

It was at that moment that everything changed. One! And the cup on the table was in the little boy’s hands. Two! And there it goes on the floor. Three! And it’s gone.

No, it didn’t shatter dramatically. Little hands couldn’t give it enough acceleration to make it break into small pieces, hitting the linoleum. But it cracked and a small part of it even bounced so that it disappeared somewhere under the fridge. The damage was done.

Agatha buckled up. Arthur buckled up. The ride began.

It seemed that nothing could be worse than the oppressive atmosphere that now prevailed inВ JГјrgen. Thur briefly took his eyes off the road and slid them toВ the mirror. Agatha was looking out the window with aВ furrowed brow. Mark inВ his turn was staring inВ the opposite window with his red, puffy after weeping, eyes.

Arthur almost let out aВ heavy sigh, but stopped himself halfway through. He wanted toВ be breathing as inconspicuously as possible.

Just don’t be too late.

In fact, punctuality was only a cover for Arthur’s real, sincere motive. This trip had to be over as soon as possible.

As luck would have it, every traffic light turned red[12 - The region ofВ colours inВ the long-wavelength part ofВ the visible spectrum, corresponds toВ the minimum frequencies ofВ electromagnetic radiation perceived byВ the humanВ eye.] as soon as JГјrgen approachedВ it.

But they were not going toВ be late for class anyway. Thur drove up toВ the entrance and byВ this time Agatha had already unbuckled, zipped up and started toВ unbuckle and zip up Mark.

During all these manipulations, Agatha cast aВ questioning glance at Arthur, who was still sitting motionless.

– You guys go ahead, I have to run an errand. I’ll be done by the end of class.