Quintet for six and a half persons

No matter how hard it rained or how the snow fell, covering the sky with heavy clouds, there was always hope for a sunny day. That day was, in fact, the very remarkable sunny and frosty day, on the eve of the New Year.

Vadim and Artem lived in a small private house, situated in a little neighborhood of private houses within the city limits. On the outside, their home stood out for its neatness. The beautiful blue color of the walls and the white carved decorations in Byzantine style, which they had carved themselves, being professional artists familiar with applied arts and folk crafts.

Their house was divided into two parts: the back section, where their shared creative workshop was temporarily located, and the front section, which featured two small alcove rooms combined by a large kitchen with a real village stove and a big dining table that could seat a large company.

Everything in the house was light: light beige floors covered entirely with a solid-colored rug, white furniture, doors, and ceilings, a bedroom with light green walls, and a room with walls painted sky-blue. Of course, this was Artem's style, a lover of pastels and soft tones, in contrast to Vadim—the true impressionist in everything.

"I don't want to go to school today!" Artem whined, stretching in bed. "I want to lie down all day. Oh my God! What a sunshine!"

"You have to go today, you have an important test," Vadim grumbled at him.

"Sasha again will be throwing paint around, and Ilya will come up with some nasty prank," Artem protested, yawning.

"You're thirty-two years old! You're a man! A teacher, for heaven's sake! Pull yourself together and don't let them get away with it!" Vadim coached him, as if preparing him for a boxing match.

"Pa! Can I stay with you today?" little Nai whispered, tugging at Artem's sleeve.

He loved being at his dad's classes and watching how magically beautiful landscapes and still lifes would appear on the completely blank canvas, so realistic you just wanted to touch them and even eat them. Nai also loved drawing all day long, and he could do it endlessly, occasionally being distracted by mischief with his father's older students, who were much older than Nai but would happily play with him.

"Of course, you can," Artem said to Nai.

Nai was growing up to be a happy and cheerful little boy, surrounded by the love of his big family, already wise beyond his six years, which was an obvious result of Vadim's genetics—always too proper, intelligent, educated, and very thoughtful. He often put on a stern expression but was incredibly tender and kind, a grumbling soul who adored his marvelous child, whose hair curled humorously after sleep, framing his face like a halo. In those moments, Nai looked like an angel with huge deep blue eyes, bright lips, and round cheeks that you always wanted to gently ruffle.

It was a funny trick of nature, as Nai looked exactly like Artem, and in character was just as direct, unlike Vadim, except for the maturity in his reasoning and the gaze that often astonished adults with his astonishing insight—an uncanny wisdom for a child. Strangers never doubted that Artem was Nai's father. And Nai always called his father by his first name and Artem "dad."

Artem grabbed Nai into his arms and hugged him tightly, burying his nose in his hair. The little boy burst out laughing, pretending that he desperately wanted to escape his father's grasp.

"Hold him!" Vadim commanded cheerfully, aimed the spoon, filled with freshly made porridge, at Nai like a weapon—though a completely safe and even tasty one—and, grinning, started moving toward his son playfully but ominously.

Nai, seemingly in fear, opened his mouth, and Vadim skillfully fed him the first spoonful. The boy eagerly licked the spoon clean.

"Va! Your porridge is like cream on a cake! So delicious!" he exclaimed with pleasure, and, breaking free from Artem's hands, he ran around the room, laughing loudly, playing tag with Vadim, occasionally running up to him to grab another spoonful of porridge like a fish.

"Come on, get up!" Vadim ordered Artem. "Your porridge is cooling down on the table, it's going to form a crust, and you'll complain it has lumps. Go eat! Quickly!"

"You should've sprinkled it with sugar!" Artem hurriedly replied, getting out of bed.

"Yeah, I did," Vadim muttered. "But you're still gonna whine."

"I'm not that picky..." Artem puffed out his bottom lip, pretending to be offended.

"You're picky! You're picky!" Nai laughed, supporting Vadim.

"And now I'm going to eat you up!" Artem promised Nai, grabbing him back into his arms, kissing him all over, and spinning him around like a doll while the boy burst into laughter.

"Leave the kid alone and go have breakfast," Vadim smiled and started pulling Artem away, "since you're so hungry!"

"Pa! I'm not porridge!" protested Nai, still laughing.

"You're much tastier!" said Artem.

They both turned to look at Vadim.

"What's this? What are you going to do?" Vadim exclaimed in surprise.

Without any signal, Artem and Nai pounced on Vadim and knocked him onto the bed.

"And you're even tastier!" Nai triumphantly sat on his father, immobilizing him.

"Nai, pick up your toys," Vadim began giving orders again, "or your uncles and aunts will come and trip over them."

"What about Uncle Kirill?" Nai asked, afraid Kirill might not come.

"Where can he go from your Aunt Anya?" Vadim replied, "of course, he'll come, and Max will be here too."

"Hooray!" Nai jumped up with joy. "So I'll be an acrobat!"

Nai and Kirill had a tradition: when they met, Nai would grab his hands and, putting his foot on Kirill's stomach, Nai would do a somersault over his head. He loved this trick and waited for Kirill like a holiday. He would quickly gather all his toys into an armful and dump them in the toy box. Then, pretending to be an airplane, he would run in a circle, running past Vadim and grabbing a new portion of porridge like a fish.

"Refueling in flight!" Vadim announced, like an air traffic controller, as he supplied his son with another spoonful of porridge.

"When are we going to decorate the tree?" Artem asked. "Today is already the thirty-first."

"As soon as Kirill brings it," Vadim answered.

"Is Kirill going to be Santa Claus today?" Nai asked eagerly.

The doorbell rang. Artem opened the door, and two enormous figures, covered in an incredible number of bags, gift boxes, tinsel, and other New Year's clutter, staggered into the apartment. Pushing through the mass of tinsel, he found the face of the first holiday pile and realized:

"Ah! Dasha! Hi!" Artem joked.

"Watch out, or I'll smack you with all these bags!" the girl huffed. "Take everything carefully and put it in that corner," she pointed to the far corner of the room. "Careful, it's all glass there. Max, where are you?" she called out to the street through the door.

In walked, as always, the elegant and nonchalant Max, holding a giant white bag with something inside.

Nai joyfully hopped around both piles, looking for something interesting or tasty. Both piles exuded winter coolness and the scent of a frosty day.

"And no one's going to unpack me?" protested the second pile of bags and gifts.

"Well, I guess that's Anya. Better be careful with her," Vadim commented, cautiously pointing to her with his spoon.

"And how did you figure that out?" Anya asked indignantly. "With your one and only brain cell, slightly lower than the waistline."

"Alright, alright," Vadim reassured her, starting to unpack her things. "II think with what I can think with."

"Yeah, you don't know how to think with anything." Anya continued grumbling.

The door swung open again, and with gusts of cold air, Kirill stumbled in, dragging a huge real Christmas tree behind him. Nai's eyes widened in joy and amazement, as the tree had real pinecones that smelled so good. Nai immediately ripped one off and sat down in the middle of the room, twisting the cold pinecone in his hands.

"It's prickly and smells like a hedgehog," Nai said admiringly.

The adults immediately burst out laughing at this comment.

Kirill deftly threw the tripod he had brought with the tree into the corner.

"Don't get in the way," he said to Max, who was about to help him with the tree. "You'll ruin your whole outfit." And he easily installed the huge tree on the tripod.

"Oh! How beautiful!" Kirill said.

"You don't even have to decorate it," Max chimed in.

"You always want to do nothing!" Dasha snapped at Max.

Max kissed her on the nose, and Dasha immediately softened. Then Max began to help with the bags that were hanging on the girls.

The pleasant aroma of the forest spread throughout the room from the tree, and each needle sparkled from the warmth and humidity of the house, enveloping the fluffy beauty. Nai sat, mesmerized by the huge tree that took up at least a quarter of the room, reaching all the way to the ceiling, and inhaling the smell of pine cones.

"Okay!" Dasha began to take command, as if she were the mistress of the house, she was now clearly in control of the situation. "Vadim, cook us all some porridge. You've both eaten already, that's enough!" she said, pointing at Nai and Artem. "Get ready for school quickly, both of you. Kirill! Why are you standing there like a pillar?" she continued without taking a breath. "Why did you grab the Christmas tree decorations? You'll break them, and then we'll have to clean up all this mess, there's carpet everywhere, put them down," she said as if he was holding a grenade without a pin. "Put them down... put them down... carefully... put them down... Well done!" she concluded with satisfaction. "Max, sort out the Christmas tree decorations and don't let Kir touch them. And now you two: take the box of garlands from Vadim," she turned to Kirill and Vadim, "and untangle them, check them and hang them on the tree. Nothing more is needed from you, you can go to work so as not to interfere!" she said, looking around at all the men present.

"What about porridge?" Vadim asked in surprise, already ready to cook for the whole group.

"Well, make it and get going, Kirill will sort out the garlands on his own," Anya ordered now.

"I'll help," Artem said, heading toward Kirill.

"Not a chance!" Anya protested. "Get the kid dressed and go to school! Your classes start in an hour."

"Max, help Kir!" Dasha commanded.

"Yes, dear," Max replied obediently and got to work, hiding behind Kirill's broad back from Dasha, just in case.

"Mean principal!" Artem replied to Anya with hurt. "Can't escape from you even at home..." he grumbled and went to dress the beaming Nai.

Vadim served the remaining porridge to Kirill; it turned out to be a full portion.

"I'll make porridge for you with lumps!" Vadim threatened.

"Why are you taking revenge on Max?" Dasha asked, genuinely puzzled.

"He doesn't eat porridge," Artem said with a slight threat in his voice.

"Even burnt, I'm starving like a horse," Anya said, out of breath.

The girls had just freed themselves from all things and heavy winter clothes, sitting there, sweaty from the frantic morning dash to the stores for presents for today's celebration. She grabbed her bag, swollen with the load, and struggled to pull out a thick photo album, shoving it into Max's lap, who had sat down beside her.

Nai ran up to him and began flipping through the album, looking at the photographs of all the people he loved so much: dad Artem, Vadim, aunt Anya, aunt Dasha, and, of course, uncle Kirill with Max—just they all looked very young and incredibly beautiful in those pictures. He stopped at a photo from their graduation, where the five of them were standing in black gowns and funny hats with tassels, holding beautiful blue folders with golden embossing.

"Why are you all dressed like that?" Nai asked. "And where's Kirill?"