I turn to Gabe and nod once. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Right now. Let’s go. Before I change my mind.”
“Nika—“
“Seriously, Gabe, get up and take me to see my mother right this instant, or else I’m going to chicken out.”
He gets to his feet and holds out his hand. “Let’s do it then.”
CHAPTER 29
NIKA
It’s strange how places tend to look alike. Central avenues with shops clustered around big blooming trees. Restaurants, post offices, walking paths. Further out are houses, tight and dense close to the main streets, spreading out and sprawling a bit as the population gets sparser. Forests, undeveloped land, big warehouses, farms, and more homes, all cut through with roads and streets. The signs change, the languages are different, the styles, the architecture, but towns are the same all over.
It’s late afternoon. Kehl is a moderate town on the Rhine and looks a lot like the villages near Paris, though everything’s in German. The streets are narrow and old, and the houses are spread out further away from the city center. We took the train and the whole trip was barely over two hours, which blows my mind. Two hours to reach another country. Two hours to find my mother. All this time, she was two hours away.
The house is fairly plain. Two stories, white stucco exterior, a heavily sloped reddish-brown roof. The grass is cut, the bushes are trimmed, and there’s a bike leaning against the fence. I keepmy eyes on it, trying to picture the person riding it, but the image won’t come into focus.
“Are you sure this is right?” I glance over at Gabe. He’s standing to my left, squinting down the quiet street.
“I’m positive. That’s her house.”
“Is she home?”
He only shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“There’s no car. Maybe she’s not home. Maybe we could—“ A thousand excuses snap through my head, but they’re all silenced as a small black sedan rolls down the street and pulls into the cramped driveway.
I watch in stunned silence as a woman gets out.
She’s older. In her fifties. But still beautiful. Long, thick hair, the same color as mine. A small nose, sharp chin, full lips. I have her cheekbones, her height, her figure. She’s trim and in good shape. I’m transfixed as she opens the trunk of the car and starts taking out groceries. She carries in two bags at once, leaving a few more behind, unlocking the side door with a bit of a struggle before disappearing inside.
“We should go,” I whisper, starting to move away before she comes back out, but Gabe’s hand presses against the small of my back, keeping me in place.
“Talk to her.”
“I can’t.”
"Walk over there and talk to her. You’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be right here.”
“Gabe—“
“Listen to me. You’re strong. You can do this. Cross the street, say hello, and introduce yourself. You’re going to be okay. I swear it.”
I look up at the sky, at the soft clouds drifting over blue, and I want to get the fuck out of here. I want to run until my legs fail. But she comes out again, hurrying back to the open trunk for the last of the groceries, and I know this is my chance. If I have to knock, I won’t do it.
She’s right there. My mother’s right there.
I take a step forward. Gabe nudges me gently. I take another, and another, and then I’m walking straight across the street toward her.
She doesn’t notice at first. She fumbles with the trunk, closing it clumsily with her bags balanced against her arm, and as she adjusts and starts moving to the house she spots me standing at the edge of the grass, watching. She offers me that vaguely friendly press of the lips, ready to turn away and head inside?—
“Excuse me. Um, are you Helena Egorova?”
She freezes. Her smile instantly evaporates, replaced by pure panic. She takes a step back, looking around, gripping the bags tightly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know any Helena.”
