by Red Phoenix
I grit my teeth. “You’re not only stubborn, but highly irritating.”
“Like a wave against the rock.”
I shake my head. “I’m already sick of your wave analogy.”
Thane smirks. “Never-ending…”
I roar in frustration, punching the pillow next to me repeatedly, imagining it’s Thane’s face.
As angry as I am right now, I know the truth. In my darkest hour, I begged God for death and He sent Thane to rescue me.
Brother
“Why did you come to Russia?” I finally ask Thane.
“When I still hadn’t heard from you weeks after you left, I knew something was wrong.” Thane frowns. “But, I had no idea how bad it really was. Why didn’t you reach out to me, brother?”
I glance away, muttering, “What was the point? You couldn’t bring her back.”
“I could have been here to support you.”
I shake my head. “Thane, you only have one semester left. You’ve worked so hard. All those late nights and weekends should not be wasted…”
He shrugs. “It means nothing without you.”
I swallow hard, realizing everything he is willing to sacrifice for me. “You still have enough time to catch up and finish your courses. I’m fine now.”
Thane looks me in the eyes. “You may be able convince other people of that, but I’m not so easily fooled.”
I snort. “What do you plan to do? Spend every day babysitting me?”
“No, I’m not going to mother you. I will, however, push you every day until you are strong again.”
I beat on my chest with my fist. “I’m plenty strong.”
“Not here…” he says, resting his hand over my heart. “…not yet.”
I chuckle harshly. “That will never heal, comrade.”
“Someday it will.”
He states it with such confidence that my heart starts to race.
“You would be a fool to give up on your education,” I insist. “Don’t you dare do that on my account.”
“Actually, I’m doing this for me. The world would be a shitty place for me without you.”
I look at him in disbelief. “Why is it you’re so determined to keep me around when my brothers are so quick to throw me out?”
“Simple. They are fools, and I am not. Don’t waste energy concerning yourself with fools.”
I sigh as I stare down at the scar on my wrist. “I’m unsure if you are a blessing or a curse, Thane Davis.”
He smiles. “I’m a little of both.”
Thane is not exactly the nurturing type. In fact, he’s relentless—not allowing me a moment’s peace.
He doesn’t coddle. No, he makes me work hard every day, pushing me when my heart isn’t in it, and demanding my best.
I feel sorry for whoever ends up being his sub, I think ruefully.
One morning, I wake up from a nightmare and am so overwhelmed with grief that I struggle even to get out of bed.
Rather than chastise me, Thane asks, “What do you need right now?”
I have to bite my tongue and not say the first thing that comes to my mind.
I want my mother alive and well.
Knowing that is not my reality, I tell him, “I’d like to collect a few things from my mother’s.”
“Absolutely.”
I’m glad to have him with me. I haven’t been to the manor since the day she died, and my nerves are still painfully raw. When we walk up to the door, I hesitate for a moment as I go to unlock it.
“I’m right here,” Thane reassures me.
I nod, slip the key into the lock, and turn it. Holding my breath, I walk into the place.
It is eerily quiet, amplifying the sound of our footsteps as we walk down the hallway.
“How can I help?” he asks.
“I want every photo album you find.”
“Okay. I’ll start here,” he states, heading into the room on the right.
I search other rooms on the lower level, but purposely avoid the kitchen. I’m not sure I’m ready to face the kitchen without my mother in it.
Thane eventually returns with several albums and hands them to me. “I was thorough. This is everything I could find.”
There are not nearly enough here between us. My mother shared so many more albums with me that last day together, and I realize the rest must be upstairs. I groan inside.
I had hoped to avoid the upstairs, but now I have to steel myself for it.
“There are more.”
Thane senses my hesitancy and offers, “I can get them for you. No reason to put yourself through that.”
I shake my head, understanding it is something I must do. I was not there for her funeral and did not get the chance to look upon her face one last time. No, my family stole that from me.
I need closure, so I slowly walk up the stairs, but each step is more difficult than the last. When I make it to the landing, I turn to face the room where she died. Instead of circumventing it, I head straight toward it.
I don’t know what I will see when I open the door and my heart pounds heavily as I turn the knob and the door swings open.
Whatever I was expecting…it isn’t this.
The carpet has been replaced, and every single item in the room has been carefully returned to its original position.
It looks…normal.
My heart aches. I wasn’t prepared for this. I feel the room should have been cordoned off, a reminder of the tragedy that took place here. Instead, it’s as if the violence of her death has been erased.
“Is this where it happened?” Thane asks quietly as I stare at the area beside the window.
I nod.
Standing there, staring down at the spot where she died, I realize her spirit isn’t here.
I look around and notice several photo albums in the bookshelf. “Let’s grab those and leave.”
“You don’t need time alone here?”
“Nyet.”
I head to my mother’s bedroom next and am devastated to find her room has been cleared of all her personal belongings.
“What is this?” I cry, checking the closet and every drawer. “They’ve taken everything that belonged to her.”
Thane shakes his head, looking as disturbed as I feel.
“How can family be so cruel?” I growl. “I was banned from the funeral, and now I’m robbed of her things as well?”
I walk from her bedroom to the room where I was staying and find all of my things have disappeared as well.
I close my eyes. I have been disowned.
I have no family now.
Except…
I turn to Thane. “I appreciate you more than you know, brother.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
I push back the pain, refocusing my efforts to make sure I have every album in the house before we head back downstairs.
Looking at the kitchen, I feel drawn to it now.
I place the large stack of albums I’m carrying on the hallway table and walk into the kitchen as memories of our last meal together flood my mind.
I glance around my mother’s kitchen, recalling the delicious aroma of her cooking while the sound of her joyous laughter rings in my head. Opening the kitchen drawer, I pull out her rolling pin and clutch it to my chest. “Mamulya…”
I see a vision of her smiling face and leave the room lighter of heart.
Balancing the rolling pin on top of the stack, I pick up the photo albums, securing the rolling pin under my chin as Thane and I make our way out to the vehicle.
“Is that really all you want from here?” Thane asks before shutting the trunk.
“Da.” I look back at the manor, knowing it is the last time I will ever come here.
Suddenly feeling nostalgic, I decide there is someone I want Thane to meet. “Do you mind if we take a detour on the way back?”
“Not at all.”
I drive over to Titov’s place, telling Thane, “This is the guy I’ve talked about. Tatian
na’s brother.”
Thane looks at me warily. “You aren’t planning to hurt him?”
I chuckle, understanding his fear. “We have reconciled. It was my mother’s last wish.”
Thane looks at me solemnly. “That must not have been easy for you.”
I shake my head. It’s true, but not for the reason he thinks.
After we pull up to Titov’s, I knock on the door, hoping he’s home. To my relief, he opens the door but stares distrustfully at Thane.
“Who is this?”
“This is my American brother, Thane Davis.”
Titov nods curtly but seems unhappy to see him.
“Rytsar has often spoken of you,” Thane offers, putting his hand out.
Titov glances at me warily before shaking his hand. “I’m sure Rytsar had nothing good to say, then.”
Clearing his throat, Thane answers truthfully, “Nothing good until today.”
Titov looks at me strangely. “What is this about, Rytsar?”
I put one arm around Titov’s shoulder and the other around Thane’s. “It would have pleased Mamulya to see the three of us together, Titov.”
Tears immediately come to his eyes and he nods.
Titov steps aside and tells Thane, “Join me for a drink in honor of her.”
I punch Titov in the shoulder to show him my gratitude as I walk past and enter his place.
We sit at the small kitchen table while Titov gets three shot glasses and a bottle. When he sets them on the table, he announces, “I’m out of pickles.”
I shake my head, tsking. “That is a major failure on your part.”
He throws up his hands. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Which is a failure on Durov’s part,” Thane states, looking at me.
Titov stares at Thane as if in shock. He has never heard anyone speak to me like that before. He suddenly breaks out in a grin, declaring, “I can already tell I’m going to like you, Thane Davis.”
“Pour the vodka, Titov,” I bark, sensing these two together might prove troublesome for me.
As he pours, Titov asks me, “What have you been up to? I expected you to come by sooner after our discussion.”
I know he is anxious to avenge Tatianna, and I don’t want to explain what my state of mind has been over the last few weeks, so I divert the conversation.
“Thane and I went to collect Mamulya’s things today, but my father has cleared the house of her.”
Titov looks as crushed as I feel. “That man must die!” he states emphatically, then glances quickly at Thane.
I shake my head once to let Titov know that Thane is ignorant of our plan to end Vladimir Durov’s life.
He takes my cue and immediately lifts his glass. “To your mother. An exceptional woman and one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met.”
Thane and I lift our glasses and then down the shots in unison.
Titov pours another round and I attempt to make my toast but choke up as I speak. “Mamulya is…smiling down on us right now.”
“Agreed,” Titov says solemnly, throwing back his shot.
When Titov fills the glasses again, I tell Thane, “Do not feel you must toast her, comrade.”
He frowns. “But I want to.” Holding up his glass, Thane looks at me.
“Your passion for life, your loyalty to others, and that keen wit are reflective of your mother. Although I’ve never met her, I feel as if I know her because of who you are. As long as you are alive, she will continue to influence the world.”
“Well said,” Titov exclaims, slamming the shot glass down on the table after he drinks it.
I stare at Thane, moved by his words. I have to swallow the growing lump in my throat before I can down my own shot. He is truly my brother in every way that matters.
I spend the afternoon listening to Titov share the adventures of our youth while Thane offers Titov a look into our lives in LA. Both men are fascinated by each other’s stories about me. In the meantime, I get the privilege of sitting back and simply listening to them.
Titov represents my life before Tatianna’s death and Thane represents my life after. Hearing them talk, I start to get a better sense of who I was, who I am now, and who I am meant to be.
For the first time since my mother’s death, I feel a glimmer of hope for my future.
I look up toward the heavens and smile.
I will make you both proud.
Retribution
It takes two whole months of brotherly love and numerous kicks in the ass before Thane feels comfortable enough to return home to America. As much as I hate to see him go, I feel good about his departure.
He and I both have things to accomplish before we can move forward with our lives. He needs to graduate, and I need to take care of my father.
Walking toward his departure gate, Thane asks one more time, “You’ll call if you need me?”
I slap him on the back. “If you ask me that again, I will punch you in the face.”
“But, you’ll call?”
I’m reminded of his analogy about acting like a wave in the ocean and I burst out laughing. “Yes, moy droog, I will call you.”
When the overhead speaker announces his flight is boarding, Thane stands up. “Well, I’m headed out.”
“I will miss you, brother,” I say, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.”
“Always, brother,” Thane slaps me on the back several times before letting go. He turns to leave, handing his ticket to the stewardess.
I feel a sense of profound camaraderie as I watch his plane take off.
I owe that man my life—literally.
My loyalty to him will never waver.
After my father heads out for the night with a new piece of arm candy, I return to the family estate.
I seek out Nadia, our cook, and ask to speak with her privately.
She has worked for our family for almost forty-five years, starting out as a housemaid at the age of sixteen. She is a robust woman of sixty who doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she has a heart of gold and a soft spot for me.
“Nadia, I want to ask something from you that is extremely risky, but the reward will be equally as great.”
“I’m not interested in money schemes,” she states respectfully. “I won’t do it for your father and I won’t do it for you.”
I look at her in surprise, disgusted that my father has asked such a thing of her. “I would never involve you in something so crass,” I assure Nadia. “What I’m proposing would result in justice for my mother.”
Her eyes suddenly light up. “How I can help?”
I appreciate her willingness, but warn Nadia again. “What I need would require your utmost care, trust, and complete silence. No one can know what happens or both of our lives will be forfeit.”
She waves off my concern. “I’ve lived enough years not to fear death.”
I love this woman.
“Everything I tell you must go with you to your grave.”
“I would never betray your confidence,” she states matter-of-factly.
Damn, I love her even more.
I look at her solemnly. “My father sent the assassin who killed my mother.”
She frowns but does not look surprised. Why would she? She knows what a vile man he is, for she has served our family her entire life. I thank God she is not a fool like my brothers.
“I plan to kill him, Nadia. However, I need your help to do it.”
She doesn’t even blink an eye. “Go on.”
“It must to be done in such a way that no one will question his death, so I plan to use poison.”
She nods, now understanding her role in this. “What kind of poison?”
“Ricin.”
“Yes, that will do.”
Although I’m surprised she’s familiar with the substance, I am also grateful for it. “There is no antidote, so even if I’m caught, he will die regardless.”
“Da,” she answers simply, n
ot at all rattled by the nature of our conversation.
“I will be the one to deliver the lethal dose.”
She frowns. “What will I be doing, then?”
“We must first establish that he’s ill. I need you to add this to his food.” I hand her a vial. “The powder is made from Madanaphala fruit and will induce vomiting. Slowly increase the dosage until everyone is convinced he’s becoming seriously ill. Once that has been established, I will arrange for my father to be transferred to a private hospital where I can treat him myself.
I see a hint of a smile on her face.
“If you need time to think this over, please do.”
“All these years, I have endured your terrible cries during those beatings and your mother’s silent tears because of that man. It will not be a problem for me.”
If Nadia were the hugging type, I would hug her right now. Instead, I shake her hand firmly. “Of course, I will see to it that you are compensated.”
“The only compensation I need is to see Vladimir in the ground.”
Placing my hand on my chest, I tell her sincerely, “You are a woman after my own heart.”
She looks at me with an almost tender expression on her normally stoic face. “I was there the day you were born, and I spent every day with you in this house.” Her face suddenly turns beet red. “I don’t know if it is appropriate to say this, but the truth is you are like a son to me.”
Her statement slams me in the chest and leaves me speechless.
Once again, I’m reminded that family comes from the heart and not by blood.
Weeks later, Nadia’s carefully administered care pays off and I receive news that Vladimir is extremely ill. When his regular doctor fails to relieve his symptoms, I anonymously send a specialist who informs my father that he’s familiar with the condition and asks to examine him.
Out of desperation, my father agrees.
After his examination, the “doctor” concludes that my father would be better served at his private hospital. Vladimir refuses, certain it is a simple stomach flu, and sends him away.
However, it only takes a week before my father sends for the specialist again because he can’t keep anything down and his ass is sore from constant diarrhea.