The Summer of First Love

This summer, arriving in a village near Kazan, I was certain: I’d be helping my grandmother and calmly preparing for my exams. But everything went off script.

Marat or Ildar? A question with asterisk!

Marat is Mom’s ideal choice: “dear little son-in-a-basket,” correct, dependable, with clear goals and a straightforward future. With him, Mom sees my life as predictable—home, husband, family—and that I’ll stay close forever, tethered to what’s familiar and convenient.

Ildar is the local “carefree type”: endless scrapes, a guitar on his back, and a look that turns everything inside upside down. He knows the forest like the back of his hand, can lead you off the beaten paths, and shows the dawn sky in a way that makes you forget everything else. He doesn’t recognize rules—and sometimes it seems he doesn’t take care of himself either.

But summer isn’t endless.

And when, in August, I have to leave, the choice will be not only between two guys. It will be between my mother and myself. Between “as it should be” and “as the heart asks.”

Will I be able to hurt my mother so I don’t betray myself?

P.S. And there’s one more thing—beyond the outskirts, behind the fence line, there’s an old cemetery that keeps one secret. It seems Ildar knows about it far more than he’s willing to say.