by Jen Eastwood
“Listen, the stories told me a lot I didn't know about the academy, but we can't stick around any longer.” I stood up and put the key in my pocket. “C'mon, I'd rather you two not meet my mother.”
“Make a copy of the thing and bring mine back.” I watched my dad take his fill of the view as Anya and Lara's asses treated him at just below eye-level. “As far as I know, everything's still working up there.”
“Well I fucking hope so!” I wanted to yell at him for not checking, but I knew it wasn't his responsibility to keep the place up in case I wanted to take two blondes there for the weekend. But had he known that was possible, he would without further questions. That's what happens when you were raised by Mikhail and Natalia Smolensky.
“Take care of yourself, Alex.” The hi-five invite shifted to a shake. And of course, the shake morphed into an awkward man hug from his seat. “It's not like I hated your grandfather. It was just easier to make you think I did.”
And my kids will be just as fucked up as you are. I couldn't help smiling at that thought. “They'll drop in for a visit soon, I'm sure.”
The front porch to the ramshackle cabin squalled and moaned like it always had. Anya's nose had stayed curled ever since we'd cleared the tree line. “This place will fall in and kill us, Alexei.”
I checked Lara's reaction. Her eyes darted from broken guardrails to windows opaque with dust. It was starting to look like they'd rather sleep in my Corolla, which was about as old as either of them.
“I promise it just looks like this on the outside.” I slid the key in the hilariously heavy-duty lock on the door, hearing that familiar SLONK of the bolt. “You don't leave anything that looks nice on the outside out this far. It's asking for a break-in.”
Anya wasn't having any of it. “You could push these walls down.”
“And this is coming from the girl hailing from the land of,” I donned my most offensive mock accent, “'Do not lean on outside of building comrade, is load-bearing drywall.'”
Lara chuckled and leaned against the cedar shake in her blue button-up and white pencil skirt. “Seems to be holding.”
Anya brushed one hand on her shoulder and replied, “I would make sure you have a tetanus shot first.”
I never thought staying at the academy all the time would make her this damn snotty. I turned the handle and pushed the door open. Despite the outside and lack of clear windows, the inside looked like the miniature version of a magazine cabin the instant I turned the lights on.
“It's actually really swanky, Alex.”
“You talk like you have a mouth full of shit.” Anya hated it when Lara strung together even the lightest, unintentional tongue-twister. Aside from physically twisting her tongue, Anya didn't have much luck in that department, and it had always pissed her off. I still don't know the reason for her attitude over that one.
I pulled Anya by the arm inside, letting go when she was in front of us on the way in. “That's not even hard to say, and it's not like she did it on purpose.”
“She was the same way this morning before Anya hauled her off.” Lara slapped Anya on the ass. “Bitchy like you wouldn't believe.”
Slap. The sound echoed as I stared in shock. Even Anya couldn't believe what she'd just done.
Lara's hands stuck to her left cheek. I grabbed her wrist to check the damage, mistakenly grabbing with my left hand. Fuck.
These weren't my eyes I was seeing through, they were Lara's. Even the throbbing sting in her face felt real. Whatever the Headmaster's true power was, it went beyond the simple will-hacking I had been taught.
I let go and returned to my own head. “If that fist was closed, you'd be out right now.”
Lara didn't know which one of us to stare at. The one who'd just readjusted her jaw, or the one who barged into her mind without asking. No lie, I'd have felt violated myself, judging by her face.
Anya broke the tension for us. Her voice actually sounded sweet and caring, her accent even thicker. “Vhy would you slap this girl?”
To my horror, she was asking me. “Anya,” she looked shocked I knew her name, “that was you.”
Her eyes faded to emptiness in front of me. “You are that man who did that awful thing with Mikhail earlier.” She looked around, no idea where she was. “Where have you taken me? Who is this strange girl?”
Lara was just as confused, still holding her cheek. “Alex, what the fuck just happened to her?”
How do I even start explaining this to both of them? Lara at least knew crazy shit happened with my powers. “Guest bedroom is the door at the back of the room. Get your stuff in there and I'll talk to you later.”
“But Alex, I—”
I gently put my hand up to shush her. “You know more than she does right now. Just listen without complaining, for once, please.”
“Fine.” Even her bratty self couldn't argue at that point. I heard the door close behind us.
Anya stared at the palm of her right hand, already pink and hurting. “I did this?”
Are you gonna flip out, break down... What? “It's okay, you weren't,” I hated that I couldn't find another word, “yourself.”
“I keep waking in different places. First I am staring out a window at snow, then Natalia is with me, and now it is you.”
I wanted to hug her, brush her cheek, or hell, even smile at her. Anything to comfort her. But I knew better. “I'm Natalia and Mikhail's vnuk, Alex.”
“And that girl?”
My intern, and your favorite plaything, normally. “She is a close friend of the family. Don't worry, she earned that slap.”
“Then you have odd friends, just like your dedushka and babushka.”
Like that Anatoly Petrov bastard. “No, not like them. Despite herself, Lara is a good person.”
Something I couldn't place came back to her expression. She moved her attention to the bracelet on her wrist. “I do not remember where I got this.” She looked down, noticing everything else she was wearing. “But I remember having it and this dress on earlier.”
It was risky, but she seemed ready for a little context. “What is the last thing you remember before looking out at the snow?”
“Mikhail,” she looked betrayed, “told me that I would forget everything awful that happened to me.”
“But you remember all of it, don't you?”
All she did was nod her head. That same despair came back. No matter what, even if we kept the original Anya from freaking out, she couldn't be left alone until our Anya was physically safe from her old self.
“I just want you to know that you're safe here, too.”
“You will not sell me like those other men?”
You're my wife. Of fucking course not! I caught myself before I said those exact words. “Do you remember anything about what Mikhail said to you before the snow?”
Another nod.
“Do you mind if I ask what it was about?”
Seeing Anya blush without fighting it almost turned my hair gray. “That I would marry a wonderful man and find happiness. He would personally see to it.”
Hell, it almost made me blush too. Even after talking to her for a few moments, I was downright smitten with her. Yes, I realize this was the same person, with different histories.
Lara marched through with her bags, pretending to ignore us. Seeing her gave me an idea that seemed dumb enough to actually work. “Lara, can I borrow your phone?” I pulled my own out of my pocket.
“I guess.” She slid her finger to unlock it. “Here, but don't hog it too long. I'll be bored as shit in there.”
“It won't take long.” I turned my attention back to Anya and gestured toward the plaid couch across the living room. “Come on, I've got some pictures you need to see.”
“What of?” Anya walked right beside me, her mind eased enough to hear me out.
“Us.” Selfies with Anya made my high school and college buddies mad with jealousy, even though I couldn't tag the location.
“But
I have never taken photos with you, Alex.” We sat, the small gap between us feeling like miles compared to how her body was always all over me. “You are lying to me.”
I started with Lara's photo album, realizing my mistake when I caught the next thumbnail before Anya could. Damn they get into some freaky shit when I'm not around. I turned the screen off and pulled my phone in front of her.
“So that girl I slapped,” slight fear turned to remorse, “she is my best friend?”
“Sorta.” I hadn't thought of it that way, but Lara was the closest Anya had to a friend outside of family. “Now look at these.” At least my photos stayed PG-13, at worst.
Anya flipped through at her own pace. The most recent pictures were of her showing off in a tiny dress I'd bought her on a rare trip to the outside world, happy as can be. “I do not remember this.”
“Keep going.”
She flipped through image after image. After several dozen of said selfies with her, she stopped. “This is not the life I remember, Alex.”
“That was all in the past five months.” I wanted to put my hands on her, even the back of her hand, but held myself back. “I know you won't believe this,” I finally broke down and put a finger under her chin, guiding her to look at me, “but we're married.”
“Then,” tears welled up as a hint of life came back to her eyes, “why do I not remember any of this?”
“When Mikhail told you that he could make your past go away, did you lie when you agreed to it?”
Anya jerked at the question. “What do you know of my past? How do you know?”
She deserved to know. “Natalia begged Mikhail to buy you from Petrov, because she wanted to save you.” I could tell by the look on her face that it was news to her. “Your life before that, I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.”
“Then how can you stand to be married to such a damaged girl? Am I not too young?”
“Anya, you're nineteen now.”
She looked at me like I had just shot a man in front of her. “I do not remember the past three years? How?”
“Do you know what Mikhail is?”
“He is Headmaster of a finishing school for girls.”
I guess he never revealed the secret until after she had her memory wiped. “I'm Headmaster now. That's what all that,” I showed her the mark on my left arm, “unpleasantness was about. In his own weird way, he made me transfer ownership from himself to me.”
Just as I figured, Anya had seen enough depraved and psychopathic shit in her life, that this didn't bother her one bit. “So we are like Mikhail and Natalia, then?”
“If that's how you want to see it, sure.”
“But in these two lives, am I the same person?”
The question took over my attention like an atom bomb going off, nowhere nearly far enough away. I really don't know.
“Alex, please, tell me.”
Would bringing my Anya back for good kill this poor girl? My eyes shot away from her. “I'm sorry.”
“I need to know.”
“But I don't know.” I hoped it was still the same girl, but I couldn't bring myself to lie to her. “I can make you the woman I married again, but I can't tell you if she is actually you.”
Suddenly, Lara stepped in front of us. Her hands were planted on her hips, legs spread wide as she towered above. There was no telling how much she'd overheard. “Anya, name three foods you can't stand.”
The girl I hoped was actually my wife didn't take long to think about it. “Lemons, onions, and pickles.”
Lara and I looked at each other. She got it out before I could. “That's totally her.”
Really, the way of testing it is that fucking basic? I had to run my own check by her. “Books. What kind do you like reading?”
Anya didn't hesitate. “Biographies.” The bookshelf not far from our bed was packed full of them, from Winston Churchill to Jim Varney. 'Did you know the man who played Ernest P. Worrell could quote Shakespeare from memory, Alexei?' she'd asked one night after setting her book down. She didn't even have to know who the person was to want to read their life story.
I looked at Lara and bobbed my head back and forth. “No doubt about it. She's the same person.”
“One more.” Lara bent down to face Anya at eye-level. “Name three kinds of person you can't stand.”
“People who only give orders, meddlers, and,” she gave it a few seconds of thought, “people who brag.”
My wife was still kicking around in that noggin, somewhere. “Anya, please tell me the truth.” I reached over her lap, grabbing the wrist with the copper bracelet, but not with the super-powered hand. “Which life do you want to remember?”
“The one where I am happy.”
I couldn't help feeling the warm fuzzies meet a cold pit in my stomach. This version of her was a complete sweetheart once you brushed past the layers of trauma, but I knew Anya would never fit into her life at the academy this way. Even knowing what she had survived had to be a living hell, every time she closed her eyes.
As I concentrated on the thoughts flowing out of her, it became obvious this Anya was envious of the other's life. “If I do the same thing Mikhail did for you, it'll be permanent this time.”
“Can I make one request?” Concern for her other self poured from her and then through my right arm. “I want to know I chose to forget my past, and that you helped me do it.”
But I don't even know what I'm doing. “I'll see what I can do.” Making her forget seemed like a great way to get our Anya asking questions she wouldn't want the answers to.
“Thank you, Alex.” She sat cross-legged, facing me. “What do I need to do?”
The simplest answer was right in front of us on the coffee table. I grabbed my phone and handed it to Lara. “Just sit for a picture with me. The you I know won't remember taking it.”
I heard the tone for the start of a video recording. Lara stepped back and asked, “Anya, why do you want to forget everything?”
She looked at me for a moment. Tears of relief built up around the edges of her eyes. “Because my past was cruel, but my present is happy.”
I heard a crack in Lara's voice. “Is there anything you want to tell yourself?”
“Yes.” Anya turned and sat cross-legged, facing me. “That I have a wonderful husband who only asked what I wanted. He is the first person to ever do this for me. I should never forget that.”
“Alex, anything to add to it?”
That's one hell of a spot to put me on. I gave it a split-second of thought before it came to me. I looked the Anya I didn't know in the eyes. “Meeting the you I'd never met only made me respect you even more. All I ask is that you trust her decision.”
My phone chirped again in Lara's hands. She sat it on the table and said, “Anya, you act differently, but I see the same person right now.”
“How so?”
Lara didn't have to think about it. “No matter how bad the situation, you know you can trust Alex.”
What she said next played my heart-strings like a Spanish guitar in the hands of a prodigy. “Perhaps it is how my husband treats me that does not change. I know that he would respect me, whichever past I choose to remember.”
Anya had never made me just want to hug her before. Then again, the Anya I knew well would never let herself be emotionally vulnerable like this. Being Iron Cunt Anya for a living does that to a person, I guess.
“Besides, even you treat me like an old friend, and you know so much about me. I wish I could think of a way to thank you, as well.”
Lara grinned. “You have your ways.”
“And those are?”
This girl who had gone from playmate to practical family member in the space of a few minutes blushed in front of both of us. “Some things are better kept in each of your pasts. I'm sure you understand.”
This Anya looked at me for an answer. “I'd go with that.”
“Oh.”
I couldn't help smiling at how delightfully aw
kward they felt. “Lara knew as much as you did, but you're both on the same page here.” It seemed crazy, but I was the fucking Headmaster now. “If she wants to stay at the academy, we'll always have a place for her.”
Anya looked at her. “Is she trying to rise above her past as well?”
“I wouldn't say that about her, but what other people had decided for her was the opposite of what she wanted. We gave her the chance to decide for herself.”
Anya pulled up the only warm memory from the past several years of her history she could remember at the time. “Then you are more like Natalia than Mikhail. You only want to give people their own choices in life.”
It was an odd way of explaining how I tried to work within the rules of the academy, but she wasn't off the mark. “It's not how I'd put it, but you're not wrong.”
Anya pulled the high heels off her feet and scooted closer. “Then I am ready. What do I need to do?”
“Hold your arms out and cross your wrists. I can take care of the rest.”
“Can I say one more thing before we do this, Alex?”
“Go for it.” Honestly, I could have married this version of Anya and I would have been just as happy, for different reasons. “You deserve to be heard out before we go through with it.”
“You are exactly the kind of man I hoped I would marry someday, if I survived the life I had before.”
She's the same Anya, but asking to be protected. I didn't think it was possible for her to act like this. But the overcompensation in her hard-assed nature suddenly made sense. “When I give you a hug after this, I don't know how you'll react.”
“I do not know my other self. I can not tell you either.”
There wasn't anything left to be said. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” She held both arms out and crossed them as I had ordered. “I have no doubt about this decision.”
“Good.” As much as I like this Anya, for different reasons, forcing her to stay this way would just be cruelty for my benefit. “I know it might sound weird since you don't remember me, but I want you to know,” I grabbed her right wrist and waited to take hold of her left, “I love you.”