Pavlova Plus One. Episode Six.

The morning after giving birth, I understood what people meant when they promised my life would change: I couldn't sit down and my tits had turned to stone. These two things we usually pay no attention to - the ass and the tits - turned out to be very important. Because when they hurt at the same time, and hurt pretty badly, it's sheer hell. You can't sit, you can only lie on your back, because on your side the tits, petrified by the milk coming in, get in the way. Walking hurts too, because every step registers at once in both the tits and the ass. Laughing is inadvisable, though it's actually very funny. Forget laughing - sneezing is terrifying!
Life changed also because I sort of stopped belonging to myself. On the one hand that's great: before, I used to go out of my mind not knowing what to do with myself. But on the other hand, the question 'do I want to or not?' stopped having any bearing on my actions. Nobody asked me anymore.
Both me and my roommate, who had also had a girl, were brought our babies every three and a half hours to put them to the breast. Because of this we immediately had a mass of new topics to talk about, ones that used to seem purely male to me: takes it - doesn't take it, sucks - doesn't suck. Then another was added: screams - doesn't scream. As for what they do with the babies between feedings, we still knew nothing about that.
When they tell you that from this moment on you'll be washing your tits six or seven times a day, that is, every time you need to feed the baby, you start to feel glad. Thank goodness they're at least your own and not someone else's. When they tell you that after each feeding you'll need to smear your nipples with a special cream, you think: well, at last I'll give my nipples the attention they deserve, the time has come, yeah. When they tell you the infusion of which herbs is best to bathe the baby in, and with what, and what to smear on, and then advise you to write down how many times a day this needs doing, you don't want to believe it. 'Get lost! Everyone's so damn clever!' you think.
And soon you catch yourself already doing all of it. And very fast, at that. You briskly sterilize the bottles, quickly change the diapers, and prepare the baby's bath in a flash. You wake up instantly at four twenty-seven and rock the baby until four forty-five. Then you feed, because it's time. Then you change. Then you rock. You sleep until five thirty and rock again.
In short, a day after giving birth, life makes a loop and for an indefinite period turns you into the main character of the movie 'Groundhog Day.' The days of the week and the dates of the month lose their meaning. Other things take on meaning: the temperature of the water, the air, atmospheric pressure, gas, the little bottom, burping... You look at the child and think: in a few years and a bit she'll demand equal rights and recognition of her own independence, she'll start blacking out and stamping her little foot, demanding the impossible and looking at her mother like she's a demented sheep... I'm beginning to understand my parents' skepticism, because they knew me like that - little, helpless, drooling. Yes, now I really am beginning to understand my parents.
Poor things! My poor parents! How much they've seen. All sorts of things they really shouldn't have had to see.
I remember it like it was yesterday: the evening news, prime time as they say. My parents sit quietly in front of the TV, not suspecting that their daughter (me) is already standing on the doorstep. Standing and unable to hit the doorbell. Then unable to find her keys. Then unable to feel out the lock. Somehow, by some miracle, their daughter did get into the apartment. So what? A reunion of former classmates. That is, these people were never actually my classmates, but we were very close friends during our school years, and so, after many years, we decided to meet up.
We met. Drank, had a bite. Drank again. This time, as you understand, without the bite. Then Mityok ran out for more. We drank fast and went to look at Sanyok's new car. The car turned out to be a big white Mercedes. And with Sanyok everything is big and white: the columns in his apartment, the floor-length curtains on the windows, the wife (a tall blonde). And his car matches. Drunk, it seemed to me that the hood of that car must be very comfortable. Nothing like the leather seats. And so, despite Sanyok's protests, I promptly settled myself comfortably on that shiny, purring hood. Sanyok protested and hit the gas. And when he realized I'd already gotten scared, he immediately and very sharply hit the brakes. Sanyok - he's a hot-blooded guy, not Russian. Everything comes out sharp with him. My going-out trousers instantly blended with the leather covering of my knees, asphalt grit, and lots of blood. But I didn't notice. I got up cheerfully, limped off to hail a taxi, said goodbye to my childhood friends, and headed home, since I simply couldn't party any longer. How did I get there? To this day I can't remember. Apparently those classified files are lost forever. I dimly remember my parents' faces floating past me. With an expression of mild surprise, my parents watch me walk. And I, staggering and grabbing at whatever furnishings and household utensils came to hand (in particular - the cat), struggled to march to my room. I distinctly remember how I urgently wanted to lie down. How I peeled off my clothes, literally tearing my fancy trousers from my very flesh. How I pulled on my pajamas (in the morning it turned out I'd put them on back to front). And, finally, I remember perfectly how I couldn't get into my own bed. That is, I sat down on it, but for some reason I couldn't lie down. I honestly tried, but I just couldn't manage it. Looking closer, I realized that someone was already sleeping in my bed. In horror I grabbed the first thing I could, and it turned out to be someone's leg. The size was clearly male. I must say, this was the most sober, vivid and memorable moment of the evening. I was terribly surprised. Upset, I went back to the living room, where my parents were still imperturbably watching the evening news.
Paying no attention to my relatives (I simply had no strength), I picked up the phone receiver and with my eyes closed dialed Sanyok's number. With my eyes closed, because his number is some flashy one: either all sevens and one zero, or the other way around.
- Guys! I have a problem. I don't know what to do... - I said into the receiver.
- What problems? We'll be right over... - Sanyok readily offered.
- Very big problems: I can't go to bed... There's some guy lying in my bed - I complained, sadly dropping my head.
- Pavlova! Who did you drag home? When did you manage it?! Where did you stop on the way? - Sanyok was surprised.
- I didn't stop anywhere - I shook my head.
- Then it's all clear: it's the taxi driver! - Sanyok concluded.
- The taxi driver?! - I asked again in horror, - what taxi driver?
- The one who gave you the ride. Who else? You, Pavlova, are capable of anything, I know you! Get this, Mityok, Pavlova dragged the taxi driver into her bed, and now she doesn't remember a thing! What a riotous broad!

I was already ready to believe it really was the taxi driver, but at that point my parents couldn't hold back: they burst out laughing, thereby giving away their presence. 'Good evening,' I greeted them politely. And Mom said it wasn't a taxi driver, but just Kristina. As far as I remembered, Kristina was a classmate of my younger sister Marusya. The girls were about thirteen or fourteen at the time. 'No, Mom, that's not Kristina in there, it's some guy!' I disagreed, - 'He's got a huge foot.' And then Mom revealed a terrible secret to me. It turns out Kristina has a very large shoe size. Like thirty-nine or even forty. Acceleration, damn it. And she ended up in my bed very simply: when I announced to everyone that I was going to a reunion with classmates, the household assumed I wouldn't be back until at least the next day. And they let Kristina stay the night with us.

When Sanyok called back, I honestly told him it turned out to be Kristina. And the next day Mityok blabbed to everyone that I'd gotten so wasted I woke up with a transvestite named Kristina who works as a taxi driver. So, if you've heard this, don't believe it. It's all lies.