The Oldest The letters were impossibly battered. One corner of the one in the back looked like it had been folded so far back it looked like it had almost touched all of the front letter’s corners, the envelopes were specked with water, and the sealing wax of the back letter was chipped. There was only one place such battered missives came from, and Tatiana leapt to her feet as soon as she saw what was in her father’s hand.
“Grisha!” she cried, interrupting her mother, who had been lecturing her on the rules for formal dinners.
“Tanya,” sighed Mama, but Papa laughed and ruffled Tatiana’s hair.
“I won’t tell Anya and Sophie how single-minded you are, Tanechka,” said her father, and Tatiana blushed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But – I’m used to Anya and Sophie not being here,” she explained.
Mama put down her sewing. “Which one of them has written?” she asked.
“All three,” said Papa, sitting down in the big chair beside Mama’s, where he sat every night to read to the family from a book and on occasion to read a letter from a sibling or her distant pradeduska. “Poor Maximus is very tired. It will be a few days before he can carry our reply back to them.” He untied the string holding the letters together and broke the sealing wax on the first. “We will start with Anya,” he announced.
Anya’s letter was, to Tatiana’s ear, very boring – she could tell it spoke of lessons and things her oldest sister was learning about, but she didn’t know enough of the words to understand a thing. Mama said Tatiana was smarter than Anya, but that Anya would always do better because she was diligent and thoughtful instead of ‘clever.’ Tatiana did not know exactly what ‘clever’ was, but she did know she had no patience and that Anya had nothing but patience and so supposed it had something to do with that. Sophie’s letter prattled on about boys and how someone named Marta wore lipsticks and wouldn’t Mama and Papa let her have some. Both enclosed kisses for “Katya and Tatya and Alyosha”, which Mama dutifully passed along to Tatiana and her little sister and baby brother and which Tatiana returned once on each cheek, once for herself and once for her sisters.
To Tatiana’s disappointment, Grisha’s letter was little more interesting than Anya’s at first: lessons, professors (apparently there were many Bulgarians), classmates (too many Germans). There was a description of a Quidditch game, though, which was more interesting, and then, to Tatiana’s surprise, her father read out -
“And to Tatiana Andreyevna – “
Tatiana heard her full name often enough. Her governess and tutor both called her Tatiana Andreyevna. So did others in the community who did not know her well, or were in formal situations. It was strange, though, to hear Papa – who always called her the most affectionate of diminutives – say it, and even stranger to think of Grisha saying it. He was the one who had started calling her Tatya, to go with Katya, and Anya and Sophie and Katya – though Katya still sounded more like she was saying “Tata” than anything – had picked it up from him. She could not even really recall him ever calling her Tatiana, never mind Tatiana Andreyevna. Papa continued reading as though he saw nothing unusual in this.
“I have met three other Tatianas, and they are all fat and ugly.” Papa sounded as though he was trying not to laugh, but Mama frowned. Tatiana expected Grisha would receive a lecture in the mail about being charitable and kind. Tatiana had received that same lecture only a few weeks ago when she had chosen a poor time to call her cousin Nastya the absolute worst. “And dull. You would not like them at all. You would like the castle grounds, though. They are almost as beautiful as home, and there are many things to do. Remember to take care of Katya and Alyosha and Mama for me.”
Mama smiled, then, as though she liked the idea of Tatiana taking care of her. Tatiana swelled with pride and importance as she remembered what Grisha had said to her before he had gone to school: Now you are the oldest, Tatya, he had explained solemnly. It is your job to take care of Katya and Alyosha and Mama until Anya and I get back. He had not mentioned Sophie; it was silly to think of Sophie really taking care of anyone, though Sophie was the very best for playing dress-up with and was usually very kind even to little sisters.
Papa went on reading out the things Grisha had to say to Mama and Babuska and Deduska, but Tatiana did not pay much attention to that. Instead, she began to look for paper to write Grisha a letter. Finding some paper and a pen, she thought for a long moment, and then started to write.
To Grisha. Hello! I miss you. So does Katya. I am taking care of them all for you. Love, Tatiana.
OOC: “Pradeduska, Babuska, Deduska” – according to the Google Books preview of Emotive Signs in Language and Semantic Functioning of Derived Nouns in Russian (Volek 1987), “Great-Grandfather, Grandmother, Grandfather.”