“C’mon, cousin, you have to marry someone. We don’t want Polina and Denis in charge,” he says with a shudder.
Most Russians would defend their mother’s honor. In this case, I simply nod my head in solemn agreement.
“They will never lead the Petrovs.”
“Exactly. So don’t throw it all away because you’re stubborn.”
“I’m not throwing it away. I just have my own plan.”
“You’re not going to try to change Babushka’s mind, are you? That’s a fool’s errand, and we both know it. That lady never changes her mind about anything.”
“Except me, apparently.”
Valentin winces and grits his teeth. I’m unfamiliar with being pitied by people, but I assume this is what it’s like.
“You’ll find someone you like, Tyoma. You haven’t even met some of them yet. Karolina is returning from Russia for the occasion.”
He still doesn’t get what I’m saying.
“I’m not marrying any of them, Valentin, because I’m marrying someone else.”
He looks really confused, now. “Who else is there?”
I scoff, shaking my head. Sometimes our lives can be insular, but it’s ridiculous the way our family thinks there is only the Bratva.
“Remember Nina?”
His head snaps up. He seems more sober. As though her name was enough to evaporate the liquor from his system.
“Fuck, cousin.” Valentin looks at me with genuine distress. He thought my obsession was unhealthy, when she left. So did Vanya. So did everyone. “Not her. Not again. You moved past this.”
No, I didn’t.
Never could.
Never wanted to.
I nod my head. “Her.”
4
NINA
“Explain yourself, Ms. Porter.”
The two men from hospital management barely looked up when I entered the room.
One gestures vaguely to the seat across the table from them, so I sit down. I’ve never seen either of them on the hospital floor, though they’re technically in charge of everyone in the building.
“I have a child. Ava. She’s four years old. Last week, she was sick and I had to call in a missed shift at the last minute. I know it’s tough on everyone at the hospital when that happens.”
I try to speak slowly and not stumble over my words, but it’s tough. My mind is racing around like a poorly-maintained rollercoaster.
This residency is everything to me.
If I lose it, there aren’t going to be places for another cycle. Itwould take a year to find another hospital in this city willing to accept a resident with a half-completed placement, at least. And there would be serious questions about how I got let go from Middlefield.
I don’t know how I’d continue to work unless I went back to a dodgy nightclub and scraping coins together to make ends meet.
