— “Did they remember you?” Lyudmila Sergeevna asked.
— “Yes. At first.” He said the word separately, with a pause. “And then Mom started giving them pills. Or injections.”
He looked at his grandmother, as if checking if he could continue.
— “She would say: ‘To make them calmer. So they don’t get nervous’.”
Lyudmila Sergeevna remembered Alena saying almost the same words: “You need to worry less. Nerves are bad for everyone these days.”
— “And what happened to them?” she asked.
— “They started to get confused,” Kirill said faster, as if afraid he would forget. “They asked the same things over and over. They would ask who I was, then again, and again.” He frowned. “One grandma kept asking if it was morning or evening. Even when the sun was shining.”
Lyudmila Sergeevna closed her eyes. Her own kitchen and her confusion flashed before her mind’s eye: what day is it today?
— “They were forgetting?” she said quietly.
— “Yes,” Kirill confirmed. “A lot.” He thought for a second. “One grandpa was looking for his slippers and got angry. He said they were stolen. But they were on his feet.”
Lyudmila Sergeevna clenched her fists.
— “And then?” she asked.
Kirill fell silent.
— “Then we would go. We always went somewhere.”
— “Where?”
— “To one place. An office. There was an uncle with glasses there.”
— “Was it a doctor?” she asked.
Kirill shrugged:
— “I don’t know. He didn’t talk much. He just showed where to write.” He traced a signature in the air with his finger. “They had to sign there.”
— “And you?” Lyudmila Sergeevna asked. “What did you do?”
— “I sat quietly,” Kirill answered. “Mom said: ‘Sit and look at the floor. And be quiet’.” He pronounced the word “quiet” almost in a whisper.
— “And after that?” she asked.
Kirill lowered his head.
— “Then the grandma didn’t live there anymore.” He paused, then added: “We didn’t visit her anymore.”
The room became hushed, as if the air had thickened. The clock ticked too loudly. Lyudmila Sergeevna leaned forward.
— “Kirill, do you understand what this means?..”
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