The Second Saturday in February

Alisa rose from her bed. The Governess was screaming down the hall, “Wake up, all in hall number 3, wake up!” As far as Alisa could see the hall was filled with rows of narrow beds. Alisa looked at the girl in the bed next to her; she could not rise, for her hands and feet were tied to the bars of the bedposts with rope. If she hadn’t been bound, she would sleep walk, which was forbidden. Across the hall, another 4 year old laid in her own urine. It was not time to use to bathroom. Alisa could hear infants across the hall beginning to cry. Her responsibility was to feed three babies. The infants were gaunt and pale. Each morning, Alisa would turn them each and change them. She would mix the powered milk and water for their bottles.

Alisa turned as the governess grasped her frail shoulders. The governess’s skin was stretched tight over her cheek bones. She was poor. The governess, like so many of the uncertified workers, worked at the orphanage because it was the only place she could find a job. She pulled the shift off Alisa’s frail body. “Move!” she screamed. Alisa cringed. She dared not cry because she didn’t want to get hit. The young girls all lined up to use to potty. The floor to the bathroom was covered in urine. Alisa squirmed impatiently while waiting her turn. The governesses scoured down the line and scrubbed each girl with a rough clothe.

Alisa pushed up her lips and smiled widely, showing off her straight teeth.  Today was a special day. Today was the second Saturday in February. It was a Saturday, bath day, 8:30 am. The governess scurried down the line and scrubbed each girl with a rough, damp clothe. It was the second Saturday in February. Today Alisa, along with 12 other girls, would celebrate their 6th birthday. None of the orphans knew their birthdate. They were given a week in a month, the second Saturday in February was hers. Today, Alisa would leave the Dom Rebyonka, infant house. Alisa wondered what her new building would be like. Alisa had been here at Dom Rebyonka for as long as she could remember. As an infant, older girls would give her a bottle and roll her over daily.  All of them lived in this old brick building. Alisa didn’t know her last name. She couldn’t remember her mother’s face. All she had was a name, given to her by her mother, and that was more than most. Most orphans didn’t have a birth name.

Nine girls, after being bathed and clothed, were ushered into a small dark room. Alisa would eat her last meal off a metal plate. On the plate was a mash mix that stuck to the top of Alisa’s mouth. There had been a food delivery and a small piece of fruit was included in her meal. The room was dark. The window on the east wall had been covered up with a piece of clothe to help keep out the cold. She could feel the cold winter air against her back. The girl across from her wept. Silent tears flowed down her face as she wept the loss of a friend. Other girls quietly chattered amongst themselves. Others whispered “happy birthday, Alisa.”

The Governess came running into the room. “Stand up! Up, in a line!” Each girl jumped and quickly stood in a line. At the door way stood a young woman and man donning American clothes. They smiled at the girls. One lucky girl would go home with them. A mother, father, clothes, toys, love, all you could want. Alisa smiled widely and showed off her straight teeth. The couple walked up and down the line. “Me, pick me, please.” Alisa whispered to herself. The couple stopped in front of an attractive five year old with long blond hair and blue eyes. “Her.” That one word would forever change that girl’s life. The girl was led out of the room. Probably no one in the Dom Rebyonka would ever see her again. Alisa sat back down to finish eating. One day she would leave this place. She would go out from behind this brick walls and be free. She would eat whenever hungry. If she was sick, she would see a doctor. One day. For now, it was the second Saturday in February. Alisa was 6 years old: enough reason to be happy and hopeful. Alisa lived 6 full years in a Russian orphanage. That alone was a miracle. In the next room, the governess screamed.