I tapped my ribs and he looked puzzled for a moment, then said, “Oh, that. It’s fine. Not even the most recent one anymore.”
“Is it all… is it all killing people?”
Misha laughed, and rather genuinely. “You people always think it’s all killing. No. Guns get drawn before paperwork, but there is mostly always paperwork before anyone shoots. What do you think we are, animals? I’m just as horrified by it as you are. But such is life. Such is Russia.”
“Then what happened with Elit?”
His mouth thinned, and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer me.
“Suppose it’s not a secret, being all over the news and all. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it eventually. The Chechens are moving in. See, there are rules, and they don’t care about rules. So their Bratva is running a little wild. They threw a little party, and we showed up uninvited. There’s nothing more to it. And you’re better off not worrying about that one. There’s nothing good there.”
“Alright.” I glanced at the bottle, but the liquid still stung my throat and threatened to come up, so I looked away. One final question. “Who is Vera?”
He grinned. “You’re just a curious one. You’re lucky the TV won’t turn on. I think the question you should be asking is whowasVera.”
That was not the question I wanted to be asking… but before I could get another word out, the front door swung open and the thunderous presence that was Vitali had arrived.
It was instinct. All instinct. I was up before I thought about it, and running, and the next thing I knew was being completelyand utterly wrapped up in his arms. They only got tighter as I started sobbing. He rested his cheek on the tangles of my hair.
“It’s alright, Kotik,” he said quietly, rocking me back and forth as my sobs turned to tears. “I’m here. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got this.”
* * *
About Russia:
Makarov– Soviet-made handgun
matryoshka– Russian nesting dolls
pechka– large traditional stove/oven, often built with an alcove where a person or people could sleep during harsh winters
17
I MissedYou
Vitali relocated us to apartments across the city the day of the outage.
No one just got up and moved—not even someone as highly regarded as the Senator. It was a lengthy process, and apartments hardly ever became available. You had to have connections to get on a wait list, and here we were with a few hours’ notice in the middle of winter—and Vitali still had somewhere we could go.
Mama protested, but even that was handled with the firm hand of not actually asking for her input. She wasn’t around for it anyway. After some calls, Misha took her to a hospital with an open bed. I didn’t ask questions as to how, only when we could go see her.
His guys showed up an hour later, and largely ignored me as Vitali gave out orders as to what needed to be packed.
Maxim and I stood by and watched them empty our childhood into boxes, leaving only its shadows on the sun-bleached wallpaper. I had no right to mourn this, because I had been theone to make the call. I had been the one who decided for us, again.
Boris handed Maxim a tub of Legos to hold on to, and thankfully, that was enough to subdue him, because the whole thing was overwhelming for me, and I couldn’t imagine how my little brother must have felt.
Plus, he wasn’t drunk. I was.
“Is this all necessary?” I asked, following Vitali room to room as he inspected drawers and cabinets for anything missed by his men. “I thought this was temporary?”
“No,” he said, “this isn’t a good district. These will keep happening. I’m putting you somewhere it won’t ever happen.”
“Vitali—”
“Katya, it’s alright.” He waved me off and reached for a tall shelf, patting it to make sure nothing remained where neither of us could see. “The school is better there. The teachers are being funded by private parties.”
“This is my home…”
