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Mama continues to be depressed, drawing meaningless circles on her paper. It’s best not to disturb her. Let her get used to the thought that there are two of us, and that we are a unified whole, an indissoluble bond: mother and son. I turn over – I’m not content lying on one side for too long – and like a true man, I assume a comfortable position. Now I can invite her into the conversation.

„Mama, talk to me,“ I ask affectionately, calculating that the brief pause has gone on for too long.

She seems to hear me, and she places her hands on her stomach; I feel the warmth of her hands and gratefully cling to the wall of my pool, enjoying the new sensations. I am in ecstasy; I have never felt so good before. „Mommy, I love you!“ I whisper enthusiastically, reveling in the heavenly pleasure.

The telephone rings shrilly. Mama jerks back her hand, grabs the receiver and raps out her words in a mechanical voice: „Editorial office.“

„Lyudmila Dominicovna, come to the party committee office.“

Mama grows cold, hearing the stern voice of the party committee leader; she has grown accustomed to recognizing his mood immediately. She grabs her keys and rushes up to the third floor. I hold tightly to my cord, afraid of being hurt; she is running down the hall at such a breakneck speed that anything can happen. I don’t need any pre-birth trauma that could turn me into an invalid for life.