My room at Stasya and Anton's house is smaller than the one I stayed in at the clinic, but that's not a problem. I promised them I won't stay for long, but my tone gave away how uncertain I am about that. You can stay for as long as you need, Stasya said. Rent will be cheap and you'll get a month for free.

Which is too much, as I told her, since they already paid for three year's worth of clinic fees. But she won't listen. Say, Valya… Don't you think we can figure this out later? She changed the subject upon saying that, telling me to get my stuff ready because we'll be going out tonight. I can't help but smile at this, because…

I think you would like Stasya, Max. She's always leaving things for later, just like you. I wonder if you still do that. I remember you would desperately ask me for help with your homework, having left it to the last minute because you decided to play instead of getting it done. You used to act like a grown-up and wave your hands, I'll do it later. Mama and Papa scolded you for that sometimes, but we always laughed, in the end.

I realize I'm crying. This has happened so many times. I should have learned, by now, that recalling these moments is useless. Smiling never lasts. I wipe away my tears and start unpacking.

We walk along the streets at night, our breath showing in the cold air, our noses red from the freezing breeze. Anton has half his face covered by a dark scarf; Stasya and I have our hair trapped inside beanies. The absence of snow is a miracle. The cold doesn't stop anyone from going outside, though: the street is busy and every club and bar I see is crowded inside. That's how it used to be back home, too.

We make our way into a bar and sit down at a table Stasya reserved for us. The two of them are already ordering drinks and thinking about appetizers, while I'm unsure if it's a good idea to have alcohol. It's been a while since I last drank—maybe six months?—and even then, it was less than a bottle of beer that Kolja sneaked into the clinic. I end up surrendering to a small bottle, but I promise myself it will be my only one tonight.

This is my first night out in three years. I might have forgotten what it's like to be in a crowded restaurant, for the noise around us is making me dizzy. There's the sound of glass against glass against wooden tables, chatter, laughter, background music. There's waiters walking around constantly and people going to the toilets not too far from our table. I want to be here, but at the same time… I can't stop thinking about my bed.

So this is what it's like to be unsupervised—I had forgotten that, too. Even when Kolja and I were left alone in the yard, there were still cameras watching us and nurses strolling around. Though Anton and Stasya probably think they need to watch over me, it's not the same as it was at the clinic. It feels as though the leash around my neck has been loosened up, and I am surely grateful for that; but this is not yet the feeling I had been expecting. Because truth be told… I have no idea where to go from here.

Where to go? is what I can't stop thinking about. And what to do?