by Blake Haugen
“That sounds ominous.”
“Yes, and judging from the way things went last time, I think we’d better take a walk.”
“It’s fine,” Igorovich rolled his eyes. “Tamara would have come back down if she suspected he was still awake trying to read that book or listen to us.”
“All the same,” Vanya said standing, “better safe than sorry.”
“Jesus,” Igorovich groaned, getting up slowly. He led Vanya through the galley kitchen and out the back door. They went to the detached garage across the back lawn. Once inside, they slivered between Tamara’s tiny silver hybrid and Igorovich’s simple red sedan to a small staircase. The door it led to revealed a quaint study, complete with a desk, sofa, coffee table, brick fire place, and large, dark stained oak bookshelves. A tiny deck served as a carport and showcased the ocean view from the second story. Igorovich clicked on the iron light fixtures and motioned for Vanya to sit.
“Tamara calls it my man cave. We renovated last year. She has her own office in the house and Zhenya has his little den attached to his room. I had to remind him of that when he wanted to keep this as his clubhouse,” he said taking a seat in the cushy black leather and oak desk chair. “So, what has you so worried?”
“It’s not that I’m worried. I just – it’s a lot to lay on a fifteen year old and if it got back to my sister, she’d be upset. It would only bring up bad memories and I don’t want to bring her any pain.”
“Think of Zhenya’s pain when he found out. Ivan, I know you care for your sister, but you have to remember that she chose to give birth to him. Surely, she should expect that he’ll search her out sometime. Her name is on his birth certificate. It’s practically public record. She’s older than you; she must have been an adult when he was born.”
“Barely. Lina is only a year and a half older than me. She was seventeen when he was conceived. It was a really hard time for us. My mother had passed away recently. We got her cancer diagnosis three months before she died. It was like she was sick and then she was gone. Lina was going crazy in the months after. My father had checked out and she was partying a lot. Drinking and hanging out with friends – bad friends. She was date raped one night. She didn’t tell anyone until I forced her to tell me why she was always tired and having morning sickness.
“Lina wouldn’t tell me who did it, but I had some friends make some discreet inquiries and forced her to confirm later on. It was a couple of assholes. She begged me not to tell Papa and I didn’t. I did tell the man who had come to work for my father the year before. I wanted revenge. He was only a few years older than us and I foolishly thought he would help me keep this all from my father. Learning that Lina was pregnant snapped Papa out of his grief and straight into rage. He wanted her to have an abortion, but she refused, so he sent her to stay with Uncle Dima and Aunt Vera.
“Lina was deeply depressed during the pregnancy. Bad; I mean really bad. She never called home and Vera said she never got out of bed. We didn’t know how bad things were until I went to visit her over winter break. She was completely broken. She cried to me about how she couldn’t do it – how she couldn’t look at herself.
“Dima and Vera were no help at all. I think Dima had been making her feel guilty before I got there, and he had Vera under his thumb. He’s never liked my father or the Pravdins, and I think maybe he was taking it out on her. I don’t know. For whatever reason, he was completely unsympathetic. I remember checking him after he’d insinuated that it was Lina’s fault.
“I was really scared to leave her after that, and I came back to school a few weeks late that year because of the timing of the birth. I told them I had mono. And then even the birth was so fucking complicated. It was like she couldn’t catch a break. The labor was really prolonged or something and they had to do a C-section. She was in there all alone with the doctors. She didn’t want anyone to be there.
“After it was all over, Lina’s post-partum was awful. She couldn’t even look at Zhenya. I did almost all the holding and feeding in the weeks after with some help from Vera. I left and when I came back during spring break, things were much worse. Zhenya was too thin and Lina was barely responsive to me.
“There was no way my father would let Zhenya come back here and Dima refused to take him in and there was no way I was going to put him in a fucking Russian orphanage. He was my flesh and blood, you know? I think we really bonded after he was born. I remember being so relieved when Vera told me about you and Tamara. I suspect she’d had you in mind for some time, but Dima was keeping her from making a move. I was so afraid to approach you two; of what would happen if you said no.”
“Hah, it didn’t show,” Igorovich chuckled breathily. “You were such a little shit. It didn’t even occur to us that we could say no. Besides, why would we have wanted to? A life in America and a son of our own. Why would we say no? You were giving us our dream.
“I remember the night Vera brought him to us. I held him in my arms and I had never seen anything so perfect – never loved someone so much. And it was just after a few moments; that’s all it took. Tamara and I had tried for so long and had tried everything. We had just given up the previous summer and she’d been so devastated. That night, I realized just how devastated I had been, too. Before that I thought I was just an old man who had robbed this young girl of motherhood. I didn’t realize how much I’d wanted to be a father. I don’t really believe in God – not like Zhenya at least – but that night I prayed so hard in thanks.”
The two men sat in silence for a few moments. Vanya stared at the various family pictures on the wall, most of Zhenya. They displayed his growth over the years. The most recent photo showed him smiling by a campfire, stick and marshmallow in hand. It didn’t vastly differ from the photo of him playing with a bucket as a toddler.
“Lina can’t stand to talk about him. I’m not sure she even knows who you and Tamara are exactly. She knows my mom has cousins, but she doesn’t know their names. She took some time to come back – mentally and physically. She didn’t even notice when Vera took Zhenya to you. She hadn’t been seeing him; just laying in bed all day becoming skeletal. Dima finally contacted my father and they got a therapist and she came back to the States in June. She’d always been quiet and skeptical, but she was way colder after that. She just ignores me or shuts me up whenever I try to talk about Zhenya. It’s an unspoken thing in our house. Only her marriage has softened her.
“I’m afraid of what it will do to Zhenya to find out she wants nothing to do with him.”
“Then we’ll wait,” Igorovich replied simply, “until he’s eighteen or when we think his heart can take it.”
Vanya’s shoulders fell in relief, “Alright, good. Now that that’s settled, we can talk about how short a timeframe Zhenya has to reach his full athletic potential and why you should let him go to Florida.”
Igorovich laughed and they debated for an hour before retiring to bed.
Two weeks passed and business drew Vanya back to his obligations in the city. He announced his departure two days before he planned to go, much to Zhenya’s disappointment. He broke the news during one of their runs in Lincoln Park.
“Alright, let’s take a break right here,” Vanya panted when they came across a bench.
“What, Uncle? Age catching up to you? Feelin’ old?” Zhenya teased. He bounced up and down, maintaining his jog while standing in one place.
“Whatever kid, I’m thirty-two.”
“Yeah, like I said – old. That’s more than twice my age.”
“Alright, alright, it wasn’t too long ago you were chasing me around this trail trying to catch up.”
“Yep, that’s why I’m enjoying this so much!”
“Come on and sit,” Vanya said more seriously, “There are some things I want to talk to you about.”
“Sounds like a big deal,” Zhenya said and plopped down beside him.
“It is. I’m heading back to the city in a couple of days.”
�
�Ah, man, that sucks! I was just getting used to having you around all the time.”
“Yeah, I’ve had a lot of fun these past couple of weeks and it made me realize how much of a shame it was that I missed out on seeing you these past few years. I went through some hard things before I came back out here and it made me realize how important it is to spend time with people you care about.”
“Mama said you had a really bad breakup with your girlfriend,” Zhenya blurted.
“She did, huh? Well, for your information, it was my fiancé,” Vanya gave him a wry smile.
“Crap, that’s even worse,” Zhenya mused. “Why did you break up?”
“There were… circumstances that wouldn’t allow us to be together. She had to move and I couldn’t go with her, but I’m working on changing that.”
“So you still love her?”
“Of course.”
“Does she love you?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Vanya grinned, “Now just isn’t a good time for us to get married. I wanted to ignore all the trouble it would take to make it happen, but she wouldn’t let me.”
“Dang. Like, you could do a surprise or flash mob wedding or something. Why don’t you just make her marry you and figure the rest out later?”
“Heh, I tried that and it didn’t go too well. You can’t just make someone do something, especially your woman. Remember that.”
“Umm… okay?”
Vanya sighed, “Alright, enough about me. We’re supposed to be talking about you. Your mom and I have convinced your dad to let you go to school in Florida.”
“Shut up!” Zhenya screamed and jumped to his feet.
“Don’t get too excited. There are stipulations.”
“Stipulations. I can deal with stipulations. I like stipulations!” He nodded vigorously and sat beside Vanya, staring at him intently. His big, hopeful blue eyes made him look like a pliant, pleading puppy.
“You’ll have to take all advance level classes, sit for the standardized final exams, and do well on them, too. And then there are the standardized college entrance exams. Your father expects you to do well on both of them if you plan to stay. That means no goofing off, no slip ups. At the first sign that your grades are slipping or you’re acting out, your father will pull you back to California so fast your neck will snap. He wants you to be able to go to the best schools if soccer doesn’t work out.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Vanya asked raising an eyebrow. “This is going to be very difficult, Yevgeny. More than anything you’ve ever done. You’ll be facing the toughest competition you’ve ever had, doing harder school work than most of your classmates, and you’ll be in the farthest place possible from everyone you know – literally across the country. Me to the North and your parents to the West. Changing high schools during the most important academic year of high school. No time for girls. No time for video games. You’re going to have to grow up fast. You shouldn’t make this decision lightly.”
“I get it, Uncle. It’ll be hard, but I’ll only have the next few years to develop my skills to the fullest. It’s a narrow window, you know? I’m ready to see how far I can go. I’ve prayed about it and I’m ready.”
“Prayed? You act like you knew you were going.”
“I didn’t, but I’ve been praying about it for over a year! I’m going to be fine. God helped prepare me this year and I’m ready to stay focused. He can help you too, Uncle.”
“Zhenya, I’m pretty sure my athletic career is over.”
“No!” Zhenya flailed his arms with an exasperated huff. “With your life – breaking up with this fiancé lady of yours has got you really down. You should pray for peace. I’ll pray for you, too.”
“Well, I think He’s already helped me somewhat.”
“Really? How?”
Vanya placed his hands on his nephew’s shoulders and looked at him with pride. “Because something bad happened to me, but it led me back to you. I’m going to help you get through your time in Florida, and I’ll never be more than a phone call away.”
Zhenya beamed. Vanya observed Lina’s beauty in his face and pulled him in for a hug. They parted and Zhenya challenged him to a race back to the car. As a reward for his victory, Vanya allowed Zhenya to drive them home.
Chapter Three
November 8, 2017
Persephone rushed out of work. It was the first time that she left before all her coworkers. She’d forgotten the girl in human resources was the birthday tsar. As she packed up to leave, everyone gathered around her door with a sign that read, “Bon Anniversaire, Perry!” They’d bought her birthday cupcakes – hard to come by in Geneva – and made a power point tribute to Perry Cameron Simpson, the best (and only) American lawyer in the office.
She’d appreciated the desserts and the goofy slideshow, but she had some errands to run before her appointment and left before the after-work party finished. She knew they probably perceived her to be a cold and distant workaholic, but she didn’t care. Persephone hadn’t had any fun in a month and had decided on a whim this morning that she would have some fun today. After a short walk, she arrived at home and contemplated what to wear while she showered.
Her real birthday had been seven days ago, but she’d forgotten that, too. The only reason she’d finally remembered it was because of a discreetly delivered care package from the Bensons. It contained several items: a potted orchid, a music purchase gift card, personalized jewelry, stationary embossed with the letter P, and housewares – everything Margie thought a twenty-something woman should have. It sat on her kitchen counter mostly untouched.
After noticing dark circles under her eyes, she decided on a smoky eye and nearly nude lips for makeup. She fixed her hair in a high ballerina bun; small pearl earrings were her only jewelry. Persephone strutted around her room for several minutes, sipping on the second whiskey sour she’d prepared, clad only in slick, black leather thigh high hosiery. The next items to go on were a scalloped demi bra and a nearly sheer organza button up shirt – both black.
The rose embellished collar she placed on her shoulders was more of a harness. Brown tanned leather cutouts formed the rose florets that circled the base of her neck and were joined by a metal ring that rested were her clavicles met her sternum. A wide strip of leather that dove between her breasts was also fastened to the ring. It fastened to another ring that sat between the last of her ribs. That ring secured a band of leather that encircled her waist.
Reflexively, Persephone stretched, testing the harness’ restriction. It was somewhat looser than the last time she’d worn it. She simply shrugged and slipped into a black high-waist mini skirt. Not wanting her entire outfit to scream sex, she donned blue velvet ballet flats adorned with metal, silver bows. She tried and failed to muster up the excitement she used to have for going out. After another whiskey sour and a thorough tooth brushing, she threw on her gray pea coat, called a cab, and waited downstairs in her building’s lobby.
The cabby let her out in front of a small recording studio over ten minutes away. The door buzzed before she had to push the call button. As always, the stairs up to the apartment on top of the studio were quiet – no doubt an effect of the soundproofed doors and walls of the building. She knocked lightly on the apartment’s door and it swung open seconds later. A bare chested Adonis held the door and stared down at Persephone with hazel eyes that were full of censure. He didn’t say word. He just opened the door wider and let her pass.
After her entry, he delicately removed her coat and hung it on the rack by the door. As was their ritual, they exchanged papers at her behest. He waited patiently while she looked over the sheets.
“These results; they’re the same for the same day, but for two subjects,” Persephone commented and looked at him in question.
“I know,” he replied. “The question is do they meet your standards?”
“Yeah, they do.”
Persephone stood stock still in his entryway as he circled around her. The soft padding of his combat boots and the swish of his black biker leather pants were the only sounds she heard. She kept her eyes down when he stopped in front of her.
“Are you ready to begin, Perry?” he asked evenly in his thick Swiss German accent.
“Yes,” she said clearly, raising her head to face him.
He exhaled a hot breath through his nose and it hit her face. The breath and his proximity carried his masculine scent to her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to close her eyes, and awaited his next words.
“Go to the living room,” he commanded. He ran a hand through his slicked back chestnut hair and motioned his head toward the hallway. His boots clomped slowly and quietly on the floor behind the steady clicks of her flats.
The living room was serene – just as it always was. The moon was waxing from its First Quarter and flooded the space with light. It enhanced the myriad blacks, grays, and whites that decorated the modern apartment. Persephone had to resist the urge to run her hands over the black and white textured wall paper of the accent wall whenever she visited. It was embossed with designs of one foot tall seashells. Nearly everything in the place was tactile; from the intricately cut crystals of the light fixtures to the white shag rug that sat on the floor of the first sitting area.
When she would have turned to face her host, Persephone noticed another man step into room from the kitchen. He was built very much like his host: tall and muscular. Unlike him, however, he was nude but for a black leather mask that exposed only his eyes, mouth, and nostrils and a pair of brown work boots. He was fully erect and Persephone could make out a faint smile on his lips. She now understood why she’d been given the results of two subjects.
“Perry, you are late,” her host’s voice interrupted her musings.
“I know, Sir. I’m sorry.”
“Why were you late?”