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„What happened?“ Olga asks anxiously.

„Nothing,“ Mama cuts her off. „At my age it would be foolish to have a baby.“

„But you don’t have anyone now. This could be your chance.“

„What chance?“

„Your chance not to remain alone. That would be terrible in old age. No one to bring you tea, call the doctor or go out for medicines.“

„Please tell me,“ Mila says angrily, „how the hell am I going to raise him? You know perfectly well that I’m single.“ She jumps up and paces nervously around the room, then stops abruptly and hurls her reproach in Olga’s face, as if she were personally responsible: „There’s no one I can count on for help!“

An oppressive pause hangs over us. Mama goes limp, ashamed of her unfounded accusations, and says quietly: „I’m sorry.“

„I understand,“ Olga answers sympathetically and carefully inquires: „Can you at least say who the father is?“

I hold my breath – this is the first time anyone has talked about my father. Up until this time I have only been able to guess whom I owe my life to. Mila avoids giving a direct answer, not wishing to speak candidly: