Blood Ties “Lena, you won’t believe it! Matvey and I have decided—we’re going back to Turkey next year!” My stepdad was practically glowing with excitement. “He says he wants that same hotel overlooking the sea again. What can I do? Anything for my own son.” His words slipped out, clarifying without meaning to: “own” son. “I’m happy for you,” Lena replied, thinking back to how nice things had been before Matvey came along. “‘Own son’… You always told me we’re family, that it doesn’t matter whether we’re related by blood or not.” He had said it before. That it didn’t matter whether she was his biological daughter or not. “There you go again… You know I love you like my own daughter, Lena, that’s not up for debate. But Matvey…” He’d just confirmed it without realising. “Matvey is your son. I’m just an acquaintance now?” “Lena, what are you talking about? I’ve said you’re like family to me!” “Like family… Did you ever take me to the seaside? In all these fifteen years you’ve called yourself my father?” He hadn’t. Arthur always insisted there was no difference between her and Matvey, but Lena knew—he did so much more for Matvey. The difference was huge. “I couldn’t, Lena. You know money was always tighter back then. You’re not a child anymore—you know what two weeks in a five-star hotel costs. Expensive.” “I get it,” Lena nodded. “It’s too costly to bring me along. And yet Matvey, who you’ve only known for six months, you want to buy him a flat on mortgage so he’ll have somewhere to bring his future wife? That doesn’t seem expensive, since he’s your son?” “I’m not buying any flat. Who told you that?” “People who care.” “Tell those people not to spread rumours.” Lena felt slightly revived. “Honestly—you’re not buying it?” “Of course not. Oh, by the way! Guess where we’re going Saturday?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Go-karting! He did some racing back at uni, and I’m just tagging along.” “Go-karting,” Lena echoed. “Sounds exciting.” “Oh, it is!” “Can I come with you?” The words slipped out before she could stop herself. Arthur, clearly not wanting her to join, blurted: “Uh, Lena… You’d be bored there. Really. It’s more of a men’s thing. Matvey and I, we’ll talk about, you know, father-son stuff.” How that hurt… “So, it’s interesting for you, but not for me?” “It’s not quite like that…” Arthur squirmed. “We just haven’t seen each other for years and want to catch up. Just the two of us. Do you understand?” She understood. That word—“understand”—was their new family code for replacing one with another. She was meant to understand: that blood would always come before chosen family. That her place was outside the fence, not inside. Matvey was objectively great. Raised without a father because his mum kept Arthur in the dark, yet he managed to succeed at everything. Clever, handsome, kind. “Dad, I fixed the dog kennels at the shelter.” “Dad, I graduated with first class honours.” “Dad, I’ve repaired your phone.” He wasn’t just a son—he was the perfect son. Later, after Arthur left, Lena looked through old photos… Arthur and her mother’s wedding (her mum gone five years now, leaving Lena and Arthur alone). There they were at the allotment… there was Lena, finishing school… Nothing would ever be the same. *** “Lena, you awake? I’ve got a question. Urgent.” Her stepdad showed up at 8am the next morning. “What’s so urgent?” Lena swept her fringe back with a hairband and switched on the coffee machine. “It’s about the flat for Matvey.” “So it’s true?” she breathed. “Sorry, yes—it’s true.” “So you lied to me.” “I just didn’t want to upset you. But I need advice! I think I need to hurry. He’ll want to get married, sooner or later. He needs his own place while he’s still young. You should have seen my life at his age…” “Get a mortgage then,” Lena muttered, not wanting to discuss buying Matvey a flat. Matvey had landed on his feet. “Yeah, I know. But you know my credit history… Matvey deserves some help. He’s never had a father, but now I can do this for him.” “So what do you want from me?” “Here’s the thing. I have two hundred thousand pounds. That’s enough for the deposit. But the bank won’t lend to me—they’ll give you a loan, though, your record’s spotless. We’ll put it in your name. I’ll make all the payments, I promise.” The illusion that “there’s no difference between you and Matvey” shattered completely. There was a difference. He’d never throw Matvey onto the mortgage front line. “So Matvey gets the flat, and I get the debt? Is that it?” Arthur shook his head, as if offended—like it was Lena’s idea. “Of course not! I’ll pay everything. I’m not asking you to fork out. I just need the mortgage in your name. Think about it…” “You know, Arthur, I’m not thinking about the loan. I’m thinking about how you don’t see me as your daughter any more. You’ve got a son now. You’ve known him six months and me fifteen years, but only the blood relation matters, right?” “Not true!” Arthur flared. “I love you equally!” “No. Not equally.” “Lena, that’s not fair! Matvey’s my flesh and blood…” Curtain. She wasn’t his daughter any more—just conveniently “like family,” until something realer came along. “Fine,” Lena managed politely. “I can’t help, Arthur. I’ll need a mortgage for myself someday. I won’t get approved for a second one.” Arthur seemed to realise then that she, too, was without a home. “Oh, right, you’ll need one as well…” He checked his watch. “But right now, before you settle down, you could help me out. I already have the deposit. It’s just for a couple of years.” “No. I’m not putting anything in my name for you.” She didn’t expect him to understand. “Alright,” he said at last. “If you can’t help me as a daughter, that’s that. I’ll sort it myself.” Maybe he’d once considered her his daughter. It didn’t matter now. She only saw Arthur in old photographs. One evening, scrolling through her feed, she saw it. A photo at the airport: Arthur and Matvey. Both in pale jackets. Arthur’s arm around Matvey’s shoulder; the caption: “Off to Dubai with Dad. Family is everything.” Family. Lena put down her phone. She remembered a moment from childhood, well before her mother married Arthur. She was five. They were poor, and her favourite doll from her grandmother had broken. She cried, but her biological father just said, “Lena, don’t cry over silly things. Don’t bother me!” You never could bother him: the bottle was always more interesting. Lena realised she’d never really had a father. She’d just thought Arthur could replace him… Soon after, Arthur tried to persuade her again. “Lena, I think we need to address your lack of trust…” “What lack of trust, Arthur? I said no.” “You just don’t understand. Matvey—he never knew me. He needs a home. He’s a grown man. You don’t even have to do anything, just be there, I guarantee you won’t pay a penny.” “Who’s going to make up for gaps in my life…” This time, Arthur grew angry. “Lena, enough! I don’t want a row. I really do love you! But listen—Matvey is my real family now. When you have your own kids, you’ll get it. Yes, I love you both differently, but it doesn’t mean you’re not important.” “I am. As a resource.” “Lena, please! You’re exaggerating.” “You dropped me for him in six months, Arthur,” Lena replied. “I’m not asking you to choose. You already have. You said it yourself: Matvey is your real son. I never was.” Six months passed. Arthur never called. Not once. One day, scrolling that same news feed, she spotted another photo. Arthur and Matvey. Posing in the mountains, Arthur decked out in trendy ski gear. Caption: “Teaching Dad to snowboard! He’s a bit old, but anything’s possible with your son!” Lena stared at the image for a long time. She reached for her laptop to finish her report when a message flashed on her phone. An unknown number. “Hi, Lena. It’s Matvey. Dad gave me your number, but didn’t feel right calling you himself. He wanted to say he’s sorted the flat and didn’t need your help in the end—but he’s worried about you. He really wants you to come visit for the bank holiday. He can’t say why, but he’s asking.” She started to reply, erasing and rewriting. “Hi, Matvey. Tell Arthur I’m really glad he’s doing well. I think about him too. But I won’t come. I have other plans for the bank holiday. I’m going to the seaside.” She chose not to mention she’d bought her own ticket—and that it was Brighton, not Turkey. And she wasn’t going with her father, but with a friend. Lena pressed “send”. And she realised she could find happiness without him, too.