"You're awake," Fyodor says without looking up from his phone.
"Unfortunately."
"Are you hungry? There's a diner right there."
I look through the windshield at the building we're parked in front of, a run-down place with a flickering sign and a few trucks in the lot. It probably hasn't been renovated since the Soviet era, but right now it looks like paradise because it means hot food and a chance to sit somewhere that isn't this car. My stomach rumbles at the thought of fresh coffee and warm bread.
"I'm quite hungry, actually."
Sasha stirs in the back seat, rubbing his eyes and looking around. "Where are we?" He yawns and stretches, and I hear his belly rumbling too. When I walked out of that motel yesterday, I never stopped to think whether Fyodor would feed him. I don’t know if he had dinner before Fyodor dragged him out to find me, and then one thing led to another and here we are.
"We're at a diner," I tell him, turning around to smile at him even though smiling is the last thing I feel like doing. "We're going to have breakfast. Doesn't that sound nice?" Shielding a child from emotional damage is one of the hardest things an adult can do, to carry that burden. But when he smiles and nods, his whole face lights up and it energizes me.
This is why I got into teaching, to help children. It makes every bit of my hard work and sacrifice worth it.
We pile out of the car and into the warmer air following that front that moved through. My clothes are a bit musty from the rain last night and they're still damp where the material is thicker. I walk a bit stiffly as I herd Sasha toward the entrance, and Fyodor guides me with a hand in the small of my back.
The place is mostly empty at this hour, just a couple of truckers at the counter nursing their coffees and an old man reading a newspaper in the corner booth. A waitress who looks like she's been working the night shift waves us toward a table near the back and hands us menus that are sticky with old syrup and have half the items crossed out with marker.
Sasha orders hot cakes because he's been talking about pancakes for days, ever since our breakfast got interrupted. Fyodor and I both get coffee because neither of us has slept enough to function without caffeine. The waitress brings our drinks and disappears into the kitchen, and we sit there in silence while Sasha plays with the sugar packets.
I'm watching him build a little tower out of the pink and blue packets when the door opens and two men walk in. Fyodor relaxes when he sees them, though I’m not as quick to feel comfortable around them. It's been more than a week since we interacted with them in person, but I still don't like the cold chillI get when Lazar and Vasili are around. I try to reserve judgment because for all I know, they're like Fyodor who is trying to be a different person, but my body and my nervous system aren't fooled.
They slide into the booth next to Fyodor and nod at me like we're all just old friends meeting up for a casual meal.
"Took you long enough," Fyodor grunts and lifts his coffee mug up in the air, jerking his chin up at the waitress who nods at him.
"Traffic," Lazar replies with a shrug. "You alright after last night?" Lazar's question reveals that all of that frantic texting Fyodor was doing this morning was telling his men about what happened.
"Nothing I couldn't handle. But our friend has more eyes on him than we thought. We're going to need to adjust our approach if we want to finish this job." His eyes flick over to me and I scowl at him.
They're speaking in code, dancing around the specifics because Sasha's sitting right there soaking in every word like a sponge. But even in code, the conversation is heading somewhere I don't want it to go. They may be used to this sort of coded talk but Sasha isn’t a dumb boy. He'll figure it out sooner or later, and I'd rather it be much, much later.
"Maybe we should talk about this later," I cut in, keeping my voice casual even though I'm glaring at all three of them hot enough to burn. "When we're somewhere more private and can speak freely."
Lazar glares at me, but I hold his gaze without flinching until he backs down with a grunt. "Sure. Later works."
Vasili's been watching the exchange without saying anything. Now he glances at Sasha, who's moved on from the sugar packets to trying to balance his spoon on the edge of his water glass with intense concentration.
"Lady, the kid's got to learn some day…" Vasili's not wrong, but this isn’t the time.
"The kid's already lost too much," I say, and I cover both of Sasha's ears with my palms to drown out the sound. "His mother is dead, his whole life got turned upside down, and he doesn't need to hear about any of this on top of everything else. Whatever you need to discuss, you discuss it when he's not in the room. Are we clear on that?"
Sasha looks up at me and scowls before waving my hands away, and I hold him for a second longer and press a kiss to his forehead. When he pulls away he's snickering.
There's a beat where I'm not sure if I've pushed too far, but I don’t care if they don't like it. When Lazar lifts an eyebrow and looks over at Fyodor, and when our eyes meet I know he understands.
"Ah, thank you," he says, and I look up to see the waitress with two more mugs of coffee and plates of food.
Sasha demolishes his pancakes while the men continue to talk in very coded language about their package and how they'll find it. I'm still tense, but they've gotten my point and won't slip up hopefully.
I'm on my second cup of coffee when Fyodor's eyes fix on something outside the window. I follow his gaze and see a car rolling into the lot very slowly. The long black sedan pauses near his SUV and then two men climb out.
"We might have company," Fyodor says.
Lazar and Vasili exchange a look and I feel my heart start pounding so hard I can barely think straight. This is happening again. This is really happening again, and Sasha is sitting right here in the middle of it.
"Maybe you should take the boy out of here now," Vasili says as he stands and I'm on my feet moving before he has to repeat himself.
