Chapter Eight

„Ivan?" Anya's voice called. „Can I come up?"

Ivan didn't want Anya to know he was crying, and much less so what he was crying about. He shot up, grabbed a handkerchief from the small shelf (also built by Oleg, Anya's lover) where he kept his few clothes and scooped up what was left of Oleg with it. Then, tenderly as he dared, he rolled it up quietly and slipped it into the wooden box which had once been his home.

„I – alright, if you want to," Ivan called down, trying to steady his voice.

„Ivan, are you alright?"

„I'm fine," he said tonelessly, too sad to be angry. He hoped that would keep her nose out of his business.

Nevertheless, he heard Anya's soft steps as she climbed the ladder. „Ivan – why are you crying?" she asked, the moment her face peered over the floor of the loft.

Suddenly Ivan remembered what Vasily had told him only an hour or so ago – that he must tell Anya about Oleg. Now was probably the best time, anyway, if he thought about it. So what was Anya going to do to his caterpillar, kill it?

„If I tell you, will you promise not to get mad at me?"

„I don't have to, I'm your older sister, I have a right to know!"

„Well..." Ivan was stuck.

„Will you at least promise to try?"

Anya sighed, a soft smile beautifully etching itself across her delicate features. „Alright, I'll try not to get angry," she said, a touch of gentle mocking to her voice.

„I had a caterpillar once," he began.

„Where, in here, in your loft?"

„Ye-e-es..."

„Where did you keep it?"

„Him," Ivan pressed decisively. „In the box, that wooden one, on the shelf."

Anya's gaze strayed over to it. „The one... the one that Oleg made for you?"

„Da, that one."

„And what did you feed him?"

„Leaves, grass..." one more thing was pressing on his mind. He had fed Oleg unwanted vegetables many times. Anya would most likely be mad at him for that stunt...but then again, if he was getting Oleg off his chest, why not get his diet off his chest too, and kill two birds with one stone? Besides, Anya had promised not to get angry. „And vegetables I didn't want from dinner," he added, considerably quieter.

„What did you say?"

„I said 'vegetables I didn't want from dinner'!"

Anya started to be annoyed, but then quickly remembered her promise. She sighed.

„Very fine and good, but why didn't you tell me?" she insisted.

„I was afraid you'd be mad."

„Why would I be mad?"

Ivan was thunderstruck.

„We-e-ell...don't you hate caterpillars?"

„When they crawl around the house and eat my vegetables, yes. But since you say you kept him in your little box..." Anya trailed off as her eyes tenderly settled on the two initials carved in cyrillic letters on the lid of the box.

„Oh..." Ivan said. „Well, please forgive me for not telling you earlier, I - "

„Did you ever give him a name?" she enquired.

„Yes," Ivan strongly replied. „I called him Oleg..."

Anya gave him a sad smile as she put her arm around him. „Well," she quietly asked, „can I – can I see him? I won't hurt him, I promise."

Ivan bit his lip and wiped the beginning of a tear away. „Yes, you can."

Anya slowly and, as Ivan later liked to think, tenderly, reached for the box on the shelf with his clothes and opened it.

All that greeted her gaze was a rolled-up handkerchief.

„Why did you roll him up? He won't be able to breathe!"

Ivan nodded and took the box from her. As he closed the lid, sliding the hatch into place with trembling fingers, the tears he had worked so hard to suppress since Anya had come once again burst the dam.

„I, I said I once had a caterpillar," he sobbed. „Anya, leave the handkerchief...he doesn't need to breathe anymore! He's dead!" Ivan burst into tears again, burying his face in his knees.

Anya's eyes widened. „Vanya..." she whispered.

Then, without another word, she sat down beside Ivan and threw her arms around him. She stroked his hair, her eyes on him, but her mind was elsewhere...

Why had Ivan loved a mere caterpillar so passionately? It was beyond Anya's understanding, something she couldn't explain even with „Who can understand the mind of a child?" Unless...

Unless...he truly needed somebody to love that badly? Unless he was seeking a simple someone to pour his love into so desperately. Anya sighed sadly. Ivan had told her that the greatest treasure was love...yet in her desperate scrabble to work hard enough to keep them going, had she lost the treasure? Had she struggled too hard to escape poverty, thus ignoring the wealth she could have had?

Anya's heart ached to relive those countless hours, and replace dismissiveness with love...

And now, she knew it would never make up for it all, but she held Ivan close as she dared and said nothing. If Ivan wanted to speak, he would, and she'd let him do the talking.

When Ivan had settled down somewhat, Anya looked down at him once again, wondering what to do. She had no experience whatsoever in dealing with this sort of childhood woe. Also, she had never even dreamed that such a simple, introverted boy as Ivan could become so passionately attached to something as small and insignificant as a caterpillar. Once again, she bowed her head and, eyes closed, felt the ardent wish to be as the other daughters of Rus…

But she knew she wasn't, and never would be.

Her hand strayed up to her scar.

No, she would never be - and neither would Ivan.

"Vanya, dear little brother..." she whispered. The winds of silence carried the hoarse, almost inaudible whisper to Ivan, amplifying it as it did so.

As he turned his tearstained face to meet her pained gaze, Anya once again realised how fragile her brother was - how small and impressionable. Just like their beloved land…

"Vanya, do you know what butterflies really are?"

"I don't care," Ivan mumbled, his voice still choked even though the tears had long ceased to flow.

Anya bit her lip, as she always did when in doubt. No wonder, now that the crashing sea-storm of emotion in his mind had gradually morphed into a calm, whispering river of rapid thoughts, Ivan was embarrassed to have cried in front of his sister.

"All butterflies," she gingerly continued, "were once caterpillars...like Oleg." Anya paused, looked down at Ivan, and continued, "after a caterpillar has grown enough, it makes itself a small home in the branches of a sturdy tree. Then for a few months it falls asleep, and everyone thinks it is dead - "

Ivan's head was still buried in the fold of his arms, but Anya could easily tell that he was now listening hopefully.

"But then...God awakes it, and it comes out of its hiding place, and it has grown two beautiful wings!"

Ivan slowly raised his head to look at his older sister, awed.

"And then..." Anya's breath caught in her throat as she envisioned the wonderful miracle of nature.

"Then..." Ivan whispered. "Then it flies away, up into...the sky?"

Anya nodded jerkily, and draped her arm around Ivan's shoulder. "Every caterpillar," she whispered back, cheeks flushed, into his ear.

"Heaven is in the sky," Ivan slowly considered. "so, does that mean the butterflies go to heaven?"

"Yes, some..."

Ivan's eyes, alight with the superb glow of hope, turned first to the wooden box that had been his caterpillar's home…

And then up, to the sky, which was now his home. Joy molded his features into an innocent grin, which, combined with his tearstained countenance, made Anya's motherly heart swell with joy.

She inwardly gasped with relief.

Suddenly, the smile disappeared, and the magic was shattered. "Anya..."

"Yes?" she hastily answered, her voice filled with worry.

"You said all butterflies. But..but Oleg never became a butterfly! He never grew wings...to fly to heaven!"

His large eyes pierced Anya's, crying out for consolation.

Anya hesitated. I just never can do anything right, she thought to herself. Why, oh why must she struggle so to impart the minimum of comfort to a soul in need?

She sighed and looked away.

But then, like the first ray of sunlight piercing the swirling mass of clouds on an overcast sky, after a storm, the answer came.

"Well..." Anya half-whispered as the entire universe narrowed down to the point where Ivan filled it all.

"Things are always the way they are meant to be," she continued, her heart beating faster and tears welling up in her eyes as memories of another loved one who had left her jumped to life in her mind. Oh, Oleg...

"Vanya, he's a butterfly in heaven." She wiped her eyes, biting her lip, desperately trying to suppress the flow of pent-up emotions.

"We all have wings...in heaven."