He’s opening up, answering questions I never expected him to. “Why?”
“For a more stable life. The economy wasn’t good in Russia, and America had more opportunities for us.”
“And who’s us?” I ask, the vodka sitting heavily in my stomach. I don’t normally drink, so it’s making me slightly buzzed.
“My babushka, dedushka, and me.”
“Tell me about them.”
He runs a hand across his jaw and then begins. “My babushka was a hard woman. She lived a rough life, but she sacrificed a lot for me. She died when I was eighteen, and it was just me and my dedushka. He was—” He pauses and his hands flex on the table. “He was hard on me. I think he expected me to do more with the life he gave me here in America.”
“And that’s why you became a surgeon?”
“Yes. There was no other choice. It’s a good thing I was good at it. I made him proud. I was exactly who he wanted me to be.”
“And were you exactly who you wanted to be?”
“I don’t know who I was meant to be, Bane. I still don’t know. But this is my life now, and I’ve accepted it.”
That makes my stomach clench. I want him to be happy. Maybe I can be that. Maybe I can be his happiness.
“And your parents?”
“They were murdered when I was young. Political reasons.”
“What political reasons?”
“My parents were academics. They spoke out too often and too loudly. It’s what got them arrested and executed.”
“Georgiy…I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is what it is. I’m here now.”
“You are. You’re with me.”
“I am.”
He stares at me for a long time as an appetizer is set before us.
“Pierogi. Potatoes and cheese.”
“I love cheese.”
“If you didn’t like it, I wouldn’t trust you.”
“Same,” I say as I take a bite of one. “Oh, this is good.”
“Da, it is.”
“Is it your favorite?”
“Mhm.”
“Why?”
“It reminds me of my mother. She used to make these when I was growing up.”
“She had good taste.”
