⏱ ~3 min reading
On Saturday, Sasha was visiting his cousin Nazar. Nazar's room smelled of apples—his mother had just put a plate of sliced apples on the windowsill—and a little bit of grease from the new construction set.
Nazar had cars on his shelf. A whole garage—a blue, red, and yellow fire truck with a ladder, and one special one—a black jeep with opening doors. Nazar loved the jeep the most.
"Can I take a look?" Sasha asked.
"Just be careful," Nazar replied. "My dad gave it to me.".
Sasha took the jeep in his hands. Cold metal, smooth wheels, tiny doors that opened like real ones. Sasha opened one. Then the others. Then he tried to open the hood - and then his fingers gave out. The car slipped and fell onto the wooden floor.
Click.
One door had broken off. It lay next to the jeep—small, black, like a crumb.
Sasha's heart sank. He looked at Nazar - he was in another corner, building a tower out of blocks and didn't notice anything.
«"We can hide it," thought Sasha. "Put the jeep on the shelf so that the door is on the other side, against the wall. Nazar won't see it.".
Sasha took the car. Carefully put it back. He hid the broken door in his pocket. His heart was pounding loudly — Sasha even thought Nazar could hear it.
Then they played with a construction set. Then they had dinner - Nazar's mother gave him dumplings with potatoes and sour cream. The dumplings were warm, but to Sasha they seemed cold. In his pocket was a small black door. It pressed like a stone.
When Dad pulled up to pick Sasha up, he got into the car silently. Dad looked at him in the mirror.
"What's wrong with you, son?"
Sasha was silent. Then he took a door from his pocket. He placed it on his knee.
"I broke Nazar's car. I hid it. He didn't see.".
Dad didn't stop the car right away. He drove a little further, turned right, parked under a chestnut tree. Then he turned around.
"Do you know why you told me?"
- I don't know. Simply…
"Because it's hard for you here," Dad said, poking himself in the chest. "And it'll be hard while it's there.".
"Dad, I'm scared. Nazar will be angry.".
"Maybe a little. Maybe not. But fear is short. And when you hide it, it's long.".
Dad started the car. We drove back. Sasha held the small door in his palm as if it were alive.
When Nazar opened the door, Sasha didn't look at him right away. He looked at his sneakers.
"Nazar. I broke your jeep. The doors fell off. Here.".
Nazar took the black part. He looked at Sasha. He looked at dad.
— Very much?
"Only some. The others are whole.".
Nazar ran to the shelf. He looked. He wrinkled his nose. And then — unexpectedly — he smiled.
"But Dad will glue it. He's already glued one.".
Sasha's dad took a small tube of superglue out of his pocket—he always carried it in the glove compartment. In a minute, the door was back in place. Almost as it had been.
On the way home, Sasha looked out the window. His chest felt light—as if someone had taken that little stone away. The chestnut tree outside the window waved a leaf at him.
— Dad.
— What, son?
"It's not scary to say. It's fast.".
Dad smiled as best he could—out of the corners of his eyes.
💡 Confessing is stronger than hiding.