Needing to stop considering the topic any further, I shake my head subtly to brush it off. “Can I ask something else of you,Papochka?”
He exhales slowly. “Will it give me gray hairs?”
A smile twitches on my face. “No more than you already have.”
Dad huffs through a laugh. “You can ask anything of me, Anya. I’ll always try my best to give you what you need.”
It’s not hard to believe him. He may have upset me less than twelve hours ago, but he always seems to do his best to make me happy.
“Can you not come into my room without knocking first?” I ask, swallowing before I lose my nerve. “Unless you think I’m in danger, of course. I just…I know why I can’t have a lock that you don’t have a key to. I know I lost your trust when I tried—” My voice breaks and I exhale to compose myself.
“But I get changed in my bathroom or my closet now just in case you come in. I’d like to be able to walk around in my space without fearing that you’ll see me half-dressed.”
That you’ll see my scars or my exposed skin and see flashes of how you found me three years ago,I add silently.That you’ll see my scars and I’ll remember what it’s like to feel exposed by the horror of what my body looks like beneath my clothes. That I’ll see it reflected in your eyes as you catch sight of the jagged and rough red patches of skin I always keep hidden.
Dad can’t get a reply in before I blurt out more.
“I’m not going to try and hurt myself again. I haven’t even thought about it in a long time. I know the doctors told you they aren’t concerned about that anymore. So, I just…Can you knock?”
He’s never barged in before, and before yesterday, I never considered that he might. I always just took precaution in case. But since it happened, I haven’t stopped thinking about what if I was just getting out of the shower or looking at myself in the mirror without a shirt like I do sometimes.
“I can knock,” Dad tells me, nodding slowly. “Iwillknock. It’s hard to remember that you’re a grown woman now, but you are. You should absolutely be able to do whatever you want in your bedroom without worrying that I’ll walk in. You know you can lock your door, too, if you want. I have the emergency key for a reason. Your lock is yours.”
The relief that his response brings washes over me like a cool breeze.
“Thank you,Papochka,” I breathe out.
Standing up on uncertain feet, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck. My cheek lands on the top of his head, his short coarse hair softly scratching against my skin.
Voice trembling, I let out the words I haven’t said in years. “You can hug me back.”
I feel his breath catch, and he moves. My father’s strong arms lift and surround me, settling around the middle of my back, ever so slightly pulling me closer. The hug is awful and amazing. My skin feels like it’s burning in protest, while my heart feels like it’s coming to life with emotional thumps.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, Papa.”
His arms twitch and I feel it as he sucks in a deep breath.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, Anya.”
I don’t know how long we stay intertwined, truly hugging for the first time in far too long. But it gets easier to feel touch with every moment that passes. The distantly familiar scent of his smoky pine shampoo reminds me who has their arms around me, and the safety in the smell can’t be ignored.
Suddenly, a loud sneeze startles me out of the moment, and I retract from my dad, head whirling around to find the source of the noise.
“Oh, nice going, Lev!” Aunt Irina scolds, softly whacking his stomach with the back of her hand. The two of them are standing by the back gate, watching us. They were trying not to interrupt the moment, I imagine.
“I sneezed,” he protests, throwing his hands up. “Now I can’t sneeze? What was I supposed to do?”
“Hold it in, you oaf,” his wife rebuts in a huff.
“Hold it in? It’s a sneeze?—”
“Ugh, enough out of you,” she interrupts, waving him off. Opening the gate, she lets herself in and makes him catch it before it closes in order to follow her. “Sorry about that, loves. We’re just stopping by on our way home from dropping Nadya off at ballet camp.”
“And now I’m in trouble for sneezing,” Uncle Lev grumbles, trailing behind her. “We should have just gotten coffee on the way.”
“Ahh, so you’re not here to visit, you’re here to steal my coffee?” Dad teases, standing up to greet them. “Why am I not surprised?”
“No one makes better coffee than Grigory,” Aunt Irina states, defensively sniffing. “I’ve tried to bribe him to leave your service in favor of Lev’s but he never gives in.”
