I don’t think I’ve ever been as terrified as I was on the helicopterflight where we brought Nina to the hospital. She lost consciousness in my arms as we left the basement, but thankfully Ivan had radioed ahead of time. Middlefield Hospital was expecting us to arrive.
The second I stepped out of the helicopter, a team of paramedics whisked Nina away. I knew I had to let them, but I didn’t want to be separated from her. I followed her into the hospital suite, only leaving when I knew it would be too much for Ava to watch.
Despite the centrality of religion in the Bratva — Vanya dragged me along to the orthodox church every Sunday, where the reception always turned into a day-long Bratva Council meeting that made the children lose our minds with boredom — I’ve never been a believer. Seeing Nina losing color so quickly from the blood loss made me wish I had a god to pray to. Because when the harsh reality was all I had, standing there cradling our daughter as her mother walked the line between life and death, I almost broke.
It’s been a week now. Nina is conscious, but groggy. She’s slowly regaining the color in her cheeks and every day she seems a little more alert.
This morning, we arrive at the hospital as soon as it opens for visitors. I help Ava out of the car, waving to the hospital staff as I head down the corridor. We know the drill now — I take Ava to visit Nina in the morning, and walk her over to the preschool after lunch, so that she has something to do other than visiting Nina’s bedside. For me though, I talk to Nina and make sure she’s entertained and comfortable like it’s my full-time job.
I came too close to losing my family, and I won’t let it happen again.
“Artyom,” calls out a musical, soft voice just as I round the corner towards Nina’s suite. The voice is the source of so many childhood memories. It used to be comforting. Now all I feel is betrayal.
Vanya’s here. Hovering at the door to Nina’s hospital suite, holding a bouquet of white lilies. An ice-cold anger squeezes at my heart. How dare she show up, wearing her funeral outfit, as though mourning the injuries that she caused?
The only reason that I hold myself back from the venomous words I want to throw at her is that Ava is balanced on my hip, her eyes wide.
“Get out.” I grab the flowers from Vanya with one hand and throw them in the trash.
If Vanya’s displeased with the unfriendly greeting, she doesn’t show it. “Ava, darling,” she steps forward, but I angle my body so that I’m between them.
Ava turns her face against me with a cry. She may not understand what happened in that basement, but she knows that Vanya was there. That she was somehow involved in hurting her mom.
This is the first contact Vanya’s tried since she ordered Polina to kidnap Nina as part of some twisted test, and she’s acting as though nothing has changed. As though she can still be Ava’s babushka.
No apology. No regret. Nothing.
I’m about to enter Nina’s suite, without Vanya, when a thought stops me.
“Who let you in here, anyway?”
I’ve increased security to paranoid levels. They would never have let Vanya through… Unless.
That’s when I spy him, further down the hall, leaning back against the wall of the starkly lit corridor.
The bastard.
Valentin shrugs sheepishly at me, walking towards us with light steps.
“You two need to talk,” he says, gesturing to Vanya. “Our babushka might be batty as a fruit cake, Tyoma, but she’s the only parent we’ve got left.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and I roll it off in disgust.
Vanya taps her cane on the glass of the suite where Nina is sleeping peacefully. She’s slowly gathering more energy, but the skull fracture is making her tired. The specialists need to observe her brain function for another few days before she’s allowed to come home.
“That’s my daughter-in-law. She’s family. Of course they let me in.”
The entitlement — to visit Nina after almost killing her — is astounding.
“Not for long, Vanya. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t immediately divorce me when she recovers from this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It was a test, and a very necessary one, dear boy. She was never supposed to get hurt.”
I am speechless for a second.
“I don’t care what was supposed to happen, Vanya. I don’t care what you had planned. The love of my life was fighting for her life, because of your twisted logic, your need for everyone to prove themselves to you.”
“It was necessary.”
I shake my head, but Vanya continues.
