Glass

I have a brother named Sergey, four years older than me. About ten years ago, when I was in seventh grade, my parents and I lived in a small two-room apartment on the outskirts of town. One room was our parents' bedroom, and the other, smaller one, was shared with my brother. There wasn't enough space, so my parents bought a bunk bed. I was on the bottom, and my brother, of course, was on the top. One day, my parents were going to visit relatives in the village to check out our house (the house was on the outskirts of the village; I'd only been there a couple of times and it didn't make much of an impression). Everyone knows what Russian roads are like, and it was autumn, so my parents warned me not to expect them back that evening. Naturally, I took advantage of this excuse to hang out; my brother had other things to do, too. By the time I got home, it was well past midnight. I decided not to turn on the light, quickly undressed, and went to my room.

"Seryi, are you asleep?" I asked. My brother grunted briefly. I had already undressed, but before going to bed, I wanted a drink of water.

"Thirsty?"

My brother mumbled something unintelligible in response, tossing and turning on the bed.

I went to the kitchen and poured myself some water. I returned with a full glass and, sitting on the bed, took a couple of sips, then handed it to my brother. He took it from my hand.

"Carry it back yourself," I said and lay down to sleep. After a good party, I passed out almost immediately.

I woke to the long, mournful ringing of the doorbell. I opened my eyes with difficulty. The room was almost as dark as when I'd fallen asleep. My eyes automatically slid to the clock—it was six and a half. Who's visiting at such an early hour, I thought, yawned, and went to open the door.

My brother stood in the doorway, his face quite rumpled. “Why are you wandering around at night?” I asked.

“I was staying over at Svetka’s. You know, her parents were also on a business trip...” He started talking about how they’d been partying all night.

Suddenly, the meaning of his words dawned on me.

“What do you mean, all night? So you weren’t home?”

My brother nodded, puzzled. My heart pounding, I walked into the room and turned on the light. The top bunk of the bed was empty, only an empty glass sat at the head of the bed.