Inna Lyon's Writing Blog

After a couple of yawns, Katya left the warmth of her bed and walked barefoot to the wardrobe closet to get dressed for school. She yanked on the door, but it wouldn’t open. This could mean only one thing — holiday shopping had begun. She looked around and found her blouse and skirt lying on a chair. Olga hid New Year’s Gifts inside that wardrobe — maybe a pair of leggings for Katya?

The sisters shared the bedroom, the bed, and the wardrobe, where Olga hid the gifts.

Of course, Mom and Dad would purchase gifts for their youngest daughter — possibly a new comb, a prickly sweater, or, the worst, a useless toy Katya had already outgrown. Olga worked at the market, selling shoes. After a good day, she could buy anything from makeup to fancy boots, unlike the practical gifts Mom and Dad would give their youngest daughter. Last year, Katya got a new red ribbon. Some are that “lucky.”

Katya got in trouble at school for daydreaming in math class and not paying attention to the teacher’s questions. She racked her brain all day — what would Olga give her as a New Year’s Gift? Half of the girls in Katya’s class had colored leggings. Some are that lucky. Katya belonged to the unlucky half. Sweets would also be lovely. Like most Russian families, Katya’s parents kept a handful of inexpensive domestic candies in a bowl on the kitchen table. Even though the Russian market had been flooded with imported cookies and candies last year, Katya’s family rarely bought them.

When Katya got home from school, Mom gave her the Kinder egg she bought Katya from every paycheck. Katya broke the fragile chocolate into tiny pieces and ate them one by one, licking her lips and fingers. Did Mom really think that one chocolate egg with a toy inside would satisfy the sweet tooth of a ten-year-old girl?

“I’m going to the skating rink with friends,” called Katya.

“Don’t forget your gloves,” replied Mom.

While digging for her skates in the pantry, Katya found the wardrobe key hanging on a nail near the light switch. She was so distracted by the key that she discovered that she had accidentally grabbed her skates but had forgotten her gloves and scarf.

The next day, while everyone was at work, Katya hooked the chain lock on the front door and ran into the bedroom she shared with her sister — it was time to implement her sneaky plan.

After opening the wardrobe, Katya froze and gazed at shelves of neatly folded clothes and bedding. The smell simultaneously reminded her of a confectionery and a perfume department. Katya searched through the drawer with underwear, pushed the jewelry box aside, and moved the stack of towels. Oh, yeah, that’s where Olga was hiding the gifts. The Estée Lauder perfume was for Mom. It smelled heavenly even through the box. Some are that lucky. Aha. A razor in a blue box was totally for Dad. And what’s this? No way! An Italian imported box of twenty-five Ferrero Rocher chocolates wrapped in bright yellow foil, each in a brown paper mold. That was so kind of Olga.

For the next two days, Katya checked the wardrobe shelves. Olga added three keychains and black mascara. Katya admired the chocolate box and touched it gently. The sweet scent of chocolate haunted her, even at night. How would she survive another three weeks before New Year’s Day?

The need to touch the chocolate ball overcame Katya on the third day. She peeled off the round sticker and opened the Ferrero Rocher box to enjoy the smell. It was divine. She unwrapped the candy impulsively, just to admire its perfectly round shape. Katya didn’t register how the heavenly chocolate spread on her tongue, and the hazelnuts pleasantly crunched on her teeth. What had she done?

She ran to the kitchen, hoping to find a candy of a similar shape. All in vain — Katya had eaten the last cheap candy before school. She opened the bread box, looking for a miracle. Her eyes fell on the dark-rye loaf of Borodinsky’s bread. She cut off a piece and shaped the bread into a ball the size of the disappeared chocolate. She congratulated herself for saving the yellow candy wrapper. Phew, one fake candy wouldn’t matter.

Could she stop at just one?

Every day, Katya ran back from school, reminding herself only to smell the candy. But every time, she broke her promise. She would carefully unwrap the thin foil and then peel off layer after layer with her teeth: first, chocolatey nut crumbs, then a layer of crispy waffle, then the praline filling, and finally, the long-awaited, perfectly roasted hazelnut.

By the end of December, only one real candy remained, lost in a box of fake breadcrumb balls wrapped in yellow foil, but Katya did not dare reopen all the wrappers to look for it.

The holiday break from school began. At home, December thirty-first passed in a bustle of food preparations. Before sitting down at the table to eat, the family exchanged gifts. Mom received her perfume and immediately applied it to herself and her daughters. Dad ran to the bathroom to check the razor. Olga handed her sister a box tied with a red bow. Katya forced a smile and mumbled a weak “Thanks” as she stood up to take her gift to her bedroom.

“Give a candy to your sister,” said Mom.

Katya froze in unspeakable horror. With a trembling hand, she untied the ribbon, pulled off the familiar sticker, and handed the box to Olga. Olga took the last chocolate, unwrapped it, and threw the brown ball into her mouth. Katya’s breath caught in her throat. Olga smiled and patted Katya’s hair.

“An excellent chocolate. The Italians know their confectionery craft. I hope this box will satisfy your sweet tooth for the whole winter break.”

Katya unfolded her “candy” and, chewing on the dried breadcrumb ball, though, some people are that lucky.