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The last time we saw him when I was 13 years old and began to take shape chest.
Again, a family holiday, all adults are jostling and talking in the kitchen, and Vovka and I, as the only children in this company, are exiled to watch cartoons like “Tom and Jerry”.
Sit.

We look.
Vovka tensely drills the screen, then me.
Finally he gets up, turns around to me, and says in a voice full of embarrassment: “Can I touch your chest?” A silent scene, diluted only with a squeak and crackle of a cartoon in the background.
I’m shocked.
I do not know what to do.
This is because I taught him this obscenity.
Finally, I decide that I’d better touch, but lag behind, and put a condition: “Good, but then you’ll never say the word“ fuck ”and never pester anyone like you did!” Vova smiles and often nods his head.
He goes around the back of my chair and runs his hands in my shirt.

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They are cold.
But these touches do not cause me special emotions.
Just think, chest.
Much nicer to touch below.
But I would rather die than tell my unfortunate nephew.
He after all, as I already know, decides to check.
“The boys told me.

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“- thoughtfully gives out, continuing to knead my unformed breast, to a child:“ What to touch the breast is this, that is.
Well, you understand.
“He kept his word, well done.
And now where do I go? I shrug vaguely.
An aunt enters to call for dinner and his hands instantly slip out of my shirt.
Hallelujah
Aunt just a savior.
Everything.
Since then, I have not seen Vovka and have not heard.
It turns out, 10 years have passed.
Mom dear.
Is this a meeting with a 19-year-old boy instead of the usual little nephew? ”“ Stop suffering with garbage! ”- I say to myself sternly -“ He can’t be the same at 19 as in 9.
“My heart doesn’t particularly react to this remark, but I’m just hammering.
There are things more important to worry about.
And my uncle and I begin a standard conversation about relatives and their current life-being.
So quietly and we reach the place.
The cottage, as I found out, belongs to my cousin and her husband.
Big.
Double decker.
Looks more like a country mansion.
And from somewhere in the backyard already pulls kebabs.
Dreamily inhale the smell, give my uncle all the bags and go to greet the hosts.
So glad.
I was obviously waited here, I am pleased.
Feeling back home finally prodigal daughter.
I cuddle with my aunt, with my sister, with her husband, with my sister’s run-up children, and meet with my eyes with my blue eyes that are clearly straining me for the first time.
The soul goes to the heels and I do not immediately recognize in this tall, perfectly folded handsome blond my nephew Vovka.
Ten years.
He was almost waist high when we saw each other for the last time.
Now I have him to the waist.
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