The day that Sergei became a soldier, Ivan felt the same fierce foreboding that he’d felt the year before when he watched his brother hurtling towards what looked like certain death.
Ivan remembered a snowstorm so heavy and ferocious that all that could be seen was a blinding sheet of white. During the whiteout the two boys spent time in the basement of their building cobbling together a few pieces of old wood to make a rickety toboggan. When they could finally go out, they’d carried it along a path flanked by piles of gleaming snow to a slope nearby. Ivan rode first, screaming with laughter at the freezing air slapping his cheeks as he careered downwards. Sergei did the second run, but the flimsy cart shattered halfway. Ivan watched as his brother was tossed in the air and catapulted to the bottom. Fear driving him, he ploughed frantically through waist high drifts to get to Sergei. By the time he got there Sergei was already standing up and brushing snow from his clothing. He shrugged away Ivan’s concern. ‘Nothing has happened. Wait before fearing the worst.’
Smart in his new uniform, Sergei repeated the same words. Ivan was momentarily reassured, but his dread returned when they hugged goodbye and he realised that Sergei was trembling.
It was freezing. Not the numbing iciness of Ivan’s homeland but a damp coldness that seemed to seep deep inside. Ivan wondered if the heavy clouds overhead had brought blizzards to Sergei thousands of miles away. The soldiers he’d seen on the internet stumbled wearily, freezing, starving, miserable. Sergei’s friend, Aleksander had been amongst them. Ivan hadn’t recognised him at first. Aleksander was a joker, always laughing, but he looked like he couldn’t remember how to smile. Images filled Ivan’s mind before he could stop them: bodies littering the ground, deserted streets, houses blackened with fire, graffitied walls pock-marked with bullet holes. Sometimes he wondered if he’d forgotten Sergei’s face. He searched endlessly for him in the video footage, but after watching it, he couldn’t eat or sleep.
The wind was bitter, and Ivan’s eyes were watering as he hauled the sledge up the hill. At the top he looked around, sensing snow in the air. Sergei always said that he thought Ivan could smell snow. He was right. It wasn’t long in coming. Soon flakes were falling from the sky with abandon although at first there was scarcely a covering on the ground. Ivan sat ready on the sledge wondering if he’d ever toboggan with Sergei again. It was so cold. He blew on his numb fingers and huddled further into his coat, but he didn’t leave. An hour passed as he stared out at the hillside watching green slowly give way to white. It would take time, but he would wait.
