Alexey knew the man in the photo on his mother’s dresser was his father. Where was he? What had happened to him? Mother would never say.
Alexey grew up and joined the Russian army. When he got orders to go to Chechnya, his mother finally talked about his father. “He’s Chechen,” she said. “We were too different to be happy together, so he went home to Chechnya. I hope he has married again and is happy. I did not want you to know about him, though he sent money to help take care of you here in Moscow. Be sure to find him. Help him. Things aren’t easy.” That was all. She gave him an address.
Alexey had no trouble finding the little brick house where his father lived. He drove up in an armored car. A little nervous, he knocked on the door. He was hoping for a joyful reunion, but the woman who answered his knock was terrified. Several badly dressed children hid behind her.
“So these are my brothers and sisters,” thought Alexey. “Where’s father?” he asked.
“He’s not here,” the woman replied in broken Russian. “He left long ago. I don’t know where he went.” The children all backed up their mother, nodding their heads. They stared at Alexey like frightened wolf cubs.
Alexey thought, “They must have decided that I had come to take him away like Russian soldiers take other Chechen men without notice. They think I am trying to trick them. They will never tell me where he is.”
The next day, Alexey drove to the house again, hoping to bump into his father by accident. The gates were closed. The same woman answered his knock with the same youngsters. Again, they refused to say where his father was.
Alexey sighed and drove away. Plainly, fate had decided that he and his father should remain strangers. His tour of duty was nearly over. But his mother’s words came back to him, “Be sure to find your father and help him.”
Next morning, Alexey got up early. He drove to the market and bought sweets for the children and sacks of flour and sugar for their mother. He loaded them into a small rented car. Then he dressed in civilian clothes and drove to the house.
The reception was much friendlier. He was glad to see the children’s eyes light up as he offered them the sweets. The oldest boy helped Alexey unload the sacks from the car.
The woman said something to the youngest child, who rushed away toward the house. Soon, an older man came out into the yard. He looked intently at the visitor, then came forward to meet him. Alexey wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked up. He saw a face with a broad smile, the same face in the photo on his mother’s dresser. “Hello, Father,” Alexey said. It was a perfect moment, one he had waited for as long as he could remember.