The Sunflower Voice
Summary:
Solomia and Yosyp, childhood neighbors, are bound to be married. Societal expectations, including their friends and family demand it. Yet when their wedding day comes, standing at the altar, Solomia (and her guests) hear a voice that threatens to break apart the traditional love, marriage, and baby carriage path Yosyp and the community had planned for them. Solomia is keeping a secret no one else knows about. One that may or may not lead to infidelity, war, and a battle for independence for herself and her people.
Preface:
“Transitions come in all shapes and sizes. There are the subtle personal and daily shifts we ourselves don’t even notice, waking up each day slightly different than the versions we put to sleep. Days flow into weeks, months, and years with changes more readily noticeable across a wide expanse of time. Full and rosy cheeks from a decade-old photo illuminate the contrast between youthful yesterday and today’s first wrinkle. Meanwhile, a nation halfway around the world finds its years of freedom and optimism dramatically disassembled. Its blue skies and fertile yellow land threatened by a neighbor. Sunflowers blackened with war and transformation not asked for. Transitions comes in all shapes and sizes.”
Chapter 1 (Excerpt):
Solomia and Yosyp stood at the sunflower-adorned altar participating in the same (often slightly mundane) ceremony their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and so forth down the chain also partook in. Nothing particularly glared out of order; they were after all, respectful of tradition. Clad in white, mixed with a few customary ornamental homages to her heritage, she exhibited “bride.” He, groom, staring lovingly at the soon-to-be mother of his children. Glancing down at her slightly protruding belly, he smirked at the thought of knowing, besides her, only HE knew what was growing inside. Twins. His twins. Their twins. He hoped for a boy and girl; the boy a replica of himself; the girl a 2.0 embodiment of Solomia.
The “audience” unaware of the bounty of goodness within Solomia’s belly represented an amalgamation of their closest friends and family, all gathered together to join this union written in the stars since Solomia and Yosyp’s childhood growing up half an hour outside the capital, Kyiv. Him on his grandmother’s small farm where they now stood, yards away from where he learned to pick up manure and slaughter pigs as a young hlopchik. Her, next door, always the astute student, shying away indoors yet unsuccessfully attempting to escape her parents’ urges to learn the tricks of the female trade: making a borscht her family could be proud of, getting down on hands and knees to scrub the floors, growing the most glorious tomatoes, and otherwise preparing herself to take on the housewife role her female ancestors had all taken on.
“Do you take Solomia as your lawfully wedded bride to love and cherish…etc. etc. as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Solomia, take Yosyp as your lawfully wedded…”
“She DOESN’T!”
With synchronous movement, all turned to locate the source of the voice, seemingly emanating from the end of the aisle. Yet, the space remained vacant of body; only mother nature stood. Had someone spoken out from within the seats? Unlikely, as all present wholeheartedly supported Solomia and Yosyp, together, not separate.
“Okay, as we were…” the officiant restarted.
“Solomia, do you take Yosyp as your…”
“She DOESN’T!”
This time, the voice broke louder, with more urgency…inexplicably closer, as if its source originated from within the very bones of its guests. More mystified glances around each other and a mistrust between the bodies occupying the seats emerged. Meanwhile, Solomia stared straight ahead at Yosyp, poker-faced, unsmiling, careful to not let him or anyone present discover what she knew….