Molly led me into one of the bedrooms.

“Don’t worry.” I heard Mike tell April, and then the door closed behind us.

It was a narrow space, with two twin beds on each side, pushed against the wall. The passage between them was just enough for one person. Thick curtains covered the window, and the room was submerged in near darkness.

“This is where I do all my work.” Molly said.

“Work?” I asked, my voice raspy. A knot had formed in my stomach.

“Yes. I know it’s unusual.” Molly fluffed up the pillow on one of the beds. “I have regular clients. Help them through things when they need answers.”

“So, how much do you charge? I can pay.” I had no idea how much something like that would cost, and, in part, hoped the price Molly named would be so outrageous that I would not be able to afford it. A part of me wanted to get out of that room and forget the whole idea.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Molly said. “I feel it in my heart that I need to help you.”

”Alright. Thank you.” Her answer was strange, but what did I expect from someone who communicated with the dead? I shrugged, sure she couldn’t see my reaction in the dark.

“Have a seat right here.” I heard Molly pat one of the beds. “We’re gonna have you prop up on the pillows, so you don’t fall asleep.”

I sat down as instructed. It was comfortable, but not overly so, and the bed itself was very firm.

“Alright. Now, don’t cross your arms or legs, just take a few deep breaths.” I did as told. At first, I kept my eyes open, but then closed them.

“There you go. Just follow my voice.” Molly was sitting on the other bed and was completely silent for a moment. Then she spoke. Her voice was melodious and lulled me into a dream state.

I saw myself floating through a yellow space, illuminated by sunlight. It was bright and warm, and a star shone up above. It was the Star called Sun. The song! The song by Kino. I heard it loud and clear. I hadn’t heard this song in ages, had forgotten all about it. But now I heard it and knew it was Sergei playing the guitar. He looked younger, not more than twenty.

“Hey!” I ran up to my brother. And then I sang the song along with him. I knew all the words by heart, and it came easily to me. I remembered every single word. And where we were was familiar. It was our old apartment in Moscow, where we’d lived before leaving for America. The wallpaper was the familiar green and the old furniture was there. I was so happy. I was back!

“Can I join the band now?” I asked Sergei.

“Yeah, little bro. You can join the band.” I noticed that there were deep red circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept. And then I noticed a crack in the window.

“Sergei, what’s wrong with the window?” I pointed to it.

“Oh. It got knocked out in the hurricane.”

“What hurricane? There are no hurricanes in Moscow.” I protested.

“Well, we have them now. Over the summer.”

“Umm, when exactly?” I asked, frowning.

“Are you alright, little man? June 1998. Did you forget or something?”

“No.” I shook my head. Outside, it looked to be wintertime. “June was a long time ago.” I noted.

“Yes, Rodion. It was.” Sergei shook his head.

“Where is Mama?” I asked.

“What the hell?” Sergei stood up and threw his guitar on the floor. “What the hell?” Without looking at me, he stormed out of the room. I followed him, eyes open wide.

“Sergei? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Go away, idiot.”

“Why?”

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“Because I got enough problems to deal with. Like finding enough money to keep this apartment. Like figuring out all the inheritance paperwork.”

“What?” I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“What? Why?” Sergei’s face contorted in anger as he mocked me. “You know what, Lena is coming over soon, you talk to her, alright?”

“Auntie Lena?” My mouth gaped open as I saw my brother go into Mama’s bedroom and slam the door shut.

I stood, staring at the closed door, then walked to the kitchen. It was a mess. Dirty dishes were everywhere. Bread crumbs, old chewed-up salami, pieces of cheese stuck to plates. A bowl with a stale Russian salad stood in the middle of the table, reeking of old mayonnaise. I felt nauseous. I ran out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. I was about to throw up, but I heard the doorbell. It took all of my strength to stop the wave of sickness, but I forced myself to go to the front door. I opened it, only then remembering I should have asked who it was first.

Auntie Lena stood on the threshold. She looked just like I remembered her, only her hair was longer and dyed platinum blonde.

“Hi, Rodion.” She didn’t smile. The corners of her mouth drooped. “How’s your brother? Fighting again?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“It’s alright. I know it’s hard for you guys. Don’t worry, I will figure it all out. There is someone coming to fix the window tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I expected her to say something about Mama, and she did.

“And we will say goodbye to Mama today.”

“Where is she?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Baby Rodion.” Auntie Lena dabbed her eyes. “Come here.” She reached for me, but I pulled back, shriveling into the corner.

“Where is Mama?”

“Mama. Your Mama passed.” She squatted next to me and grabbed my hand.

“Passed?” I stared at her in confusion. The word was so unclear. Passed where? How? Passed a test? I tried to free myself, but her grasp was strong.

“It was a hard year for her. The crisis of ‘98. Oh God.” Auntie Lena looked up, as if searching for a higher power there. “My poor little guy. And your brother.”

“Mama died?”

“Yes, Rodion. You found her when you came home from school last week. And you did the right thing. You called me to come over.”

“No.” I shook my head. “That didn’t happen. We’re in Moscow. Mama is alive.”

“It’s the shock. Of course. So much happening all in a few months. And your mother. I told her to stop drinking. But of course, losing all her savings in August. No one could survive that.”

Auntie Lena was speaking fast, shaking her head. All the while gripping me by the hand, as if I was about to run away. “Come here, let’s go get your brother. We gotta go to the cemetery today. Alright? Let’s go, but dress warmly. It’s cold out.”

She threw a look full of resentment at the cracked window.

“And that window. Unbelievable. Six months with this crack. I should have fixed it for you earlier. But Lydia told me she was doing it. I should have paid more attention.” And then she let go of my hand and collapsed on the couch, sobbing. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

I stared at her for a few moments and then screamed.

“No! No! No!” The next minute I was back, on the twin bed in the bedroom, submerged in semi-darkness. “No!” I sat up and saw the outlines of Molly's figure on the bed across from me. She was sitting bolt upright.

“I am sorry, Rodion.”

“I thought I was going to see Mama.”

“So did I.”

“But that doesn’t make sense? What was that?”

“That was your life if you’d stayed in Moscow.”

“What? But Mama was dead.”

“Yes. She was.”

“But she died in America because of Philip. Because he left us. She would have been alive if we stayed in Moscow!” I yelled. This was the story I’d told myself for ten years. Moscow would have kept Mama alive.

“It doesn’t look like that to me. Your mother would have died, regardless. You saw an alternative scenario.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I can only guess that sometimes our parents leave us and that’s a contract our souls make with each other. To grow stronger, to learn certain lessons.” Molly’s voice trailed off.

“But I thought you would have me speak to Mama! Where is she?”

“Your mother wanted you to know that she had to leave you. How old were you when she died?”

“I was almost nine.”

“And in your vision just now, how old were you?”

“Same age.” I dug the nails into my palms of my hands to stop myself from screaming.

“So that must have been the soul agreement. For your mother to die when you were eight years old.”

“Mama wasn’t meant to die! That’s some sick game you’re playing.” I jumped and stormed out of the room.

April and Mike were sitting across from each other. Mike was holding what looked like a claw of a large animal.

“Rodion, what’s wrong?” April pushed her chair back.

“I, I don’t get it. I didn’t see Mama.”

“Oh.” April gave Molly a questioning look, but the woman said nothing.

“It was nonsense. She was dead!”

“Your mother?”

“Yes. I never saw her! But she died because of some crisis of ‘98. There was no crisis of ‘98. This is crazy!” I clenched my fists.

“I’m sorry, Rodion.” April made a move towards me, as if to hug me, but I stepped back. “But wait a second. 1998?” She stopped and scratched her head. “I think there was an economic crisis in Russia. Currency was devalued and everyone lost their savings. We learned about it in Economics class in the fall. I actually got an A on my exam, because my professor only mentioned it once, but I was curious, so looked it up. And it was an extra credit question.”

“Extra credit?” I stood back. “My mother died and you’re talking about extra credit? If we stayed in Russia, it would have been better. Mama would have still been alive!” I looked at their well-meaning faces.

Molly’s, April’s, Mike’s. They were all so kind, so caring. I wanted to scratch their eyes out. No one could feel the pain I was feeling. They could never understand.

“I gotta go clear my head.” I pulled on my jacket and boots.

“Rodion, wait.” April called after me.

“Let him go.” I heard Molly’s voice as I bolted out.

Large snowflakes were falling. I remembered how each one of them was unique and its shape and configuration never repeated.

Mama was meant to die.

The thought crushed me. I wanted to rescue her, to make her come back, to have her talk to me. I let out a blood-curdling scream and ran into the woods.