Denial (Elizaveta)

  “Elizaveta.”

          She hated when they started a sentence with her name. It always meant that something was about to be explained. Something they thought was too complex for small girl to understand. It annoyed her. Still it didn’t stop anything and she was certain that she was about to learn who the two people standing in front of her were.

          “Elizaveta…darling…”

          There it was again. As if her attention were lost so easily.

          “These are your parents,” another pause, “your birth parents.”

          The last part was added on in way of an afterthought, an unnecessary clarification. The woman standing in front of her smiled and held out her arms. Elizaveta stared at her, still clutching onto her escort. Even in her diminutive state the child had a presence and eventually the steady smile the woman wore faltered. The escort pried his fingers from Elizaveta’s and gave her a gentle push forward.

          “It’s alright. Go on.”

          Slowly she stepped towards the outstretched arms. When she was within reach she found herself suddenly wrapped in a tight embrace. The overwhelming display of affection was more crushing than the hug she found herself in and when the escort left Elizaveta found herself in a silent panic.

          “Look at you,” cooed the woman holding her at arms length, “You’ve grown into quite the young lady.”

          It was true. Despite her age her features had already taken on an exquisite acuteness. Her eyes held an intelligence that looked strange staring out of her youthful face. As she was studied, Elizaveta studied the two parents before her. The more she took in the measure of the two strangers the more she could see the resemblance. She had her mother’s dark almond shaped eyes as well as her delicate chin. From her father she had acquired high cheekbones and conservative lips, the kind that only seemed kissable when they were smiling. Suddenly every feature that had been hers, defined her, belonged to someone else. The thought made her angry.

          How dare these strangers dump themselves into her life and take credit for everything she had accomplished. Elizaveta hated how the woman glowed with pride. What had she done except give birth to her? They had given her nothing and yet they smiled at her as if they had given her everything. Suddenly the silence in the room was broken by a hearty laugh from the father-man.

          “Don’t look so serious child, you’ll wrinkle your pretty face. Now why don’t you give your mummy a kiss?”

          She glared at him.

          “You are not my father and she is not my mother.”

          There was a stutter in his laughter, a hesitation, for just a second.  She knew, in that moment, that she would undo them.