My dad laughs. “Solnishka,he won’t forget anything, and if he does, he can just run to a store and buy what he needs. He’ll be fine.”
“It’s just a pain in the butt to have to do that,” my mom says. “And bring extra underwear. You can never have too many pairs.”
“Can’t you?” I ask. If my mom had it her way, I’d show up in Oregon with a phone charger and twenty pairs of underwear. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll pack everything I need. I’ll even remember my toothbrush.”
She smiles over at me. “I know you will. You promise you’ll call if you need anything?”
“I will,” I tell her.
“And just because they’re aBratva,” she says, whispering the word Bratva in case the grandkids accidentally absorb that while they’re sleeping, “it doesn’t mean you need to, you know, work or anything. In fact, you shouldn’t.” She looks at my dad, “He shouldn’t right? Isn’t that against the rules and a definite no-no?”
“A definite no-no,” my dad says, trying to keep a straight face and failing.
My mom points a finger at him. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. I don’t want our son getting involved in dangerous business that he doesn’t need to be involved in.”
My dad reaches out a hand to squeeze my mom’s thigh. “He’ll be fine,solnishka.I promise.” He looks past her to me. “Don’t get involved in Medvedev shit unless you have to, yeah?”
“Sounds good to me,” I say.
I hear the soft huff of air my mom gives while my dad stifles another laugh.
“Well, I guess that’s as good as I’m going to get,” she says.
My dad opens his arm and she quickly scoots over to cuddle up against him while Mira continues to sleep on his chest. Hekisses my mom’s head, and I hear him whisper, “Damien will be safe. I promise. He’d never do anything stupid.”
I’ve grown used to my mom being overprotective and worrying way too much. She and my aunts have always done it. I understand their concern, so I’ve never gotten mad about it. I imagine it’s hard enough having a kid, but having one and then sending them out to help run the family Bratva must be terrifying. Even holding my nephew, I wonder how in the hell my brother’s going to do it. Roma is still so small in my arms, so innocent and vulnerable, and the thought of him doing what I do one day is hard to fathom.
Of course, we were all this innocent once. My cousins and I had a happy, carefree childhood. We had no idea what our dads did for a living. It wasn’t until we were much older that we learned the truth. We all adjusted. We all learned to do what was necessary to keep our family safe, and one day Roma will do the same. The best thing I can do for him is make sure we have our territory on as tight of a leash as possible when it comes time for him to join the ranks. None of us want to hand over an unsafe city. We’ve kept ourselves safe because people fear us too much to fuck with us. We just need to keep it that way.
I help put Roma to bed before going to my own room. I’m exhausted, and it doesn’t take long to fall asleep. I don’t bother trying to fight it because I know my nephew is going to wake me up with the sun. Roma and I have a system. When he stays over, I leave my door open, and as soon as he wakes up, he comes to get me so I can make him breakfast. Before it was safe for him to come and get me on his own, I used to set my alarm so I could be there when he woke up. It’s our own little tradition, and I can’t wait until Mira is old enough to join us.
A tiny pair of hands pull me from sleep, and when I open my groggy eyes to see Roma’s smiling face, it’s impossible to be irritated about the fact that the sun has barely risen. So, insteadof scowling and pulling the sheet over my head for a few more precious moments of sleep, I ruffle my nephew’s sleep-messy hair and ask him what he wants for breakfast.
“Cereal,” he quickly says. “The one that looks like little cookies.”
“Ah, the healthy one then?” I ask while I get out of bed. He follows me into the bathroom and watches me brush my teeth and then laughs when I tell him to turn around so I can pee. Still in sweats and a T-shirt, I grab my phone and then walk with Roma to the kitchen. He goes straight for the pantry, rummaging around until he finds the box he wants.
“Grab the yellow box for me,” I tell him. “The one with the old guy on the front in a blue uniform.”
“With little red and blue berries?”
“That’s the one,” I tell him while I get the milk from the fridge.
Roma lugs the boxes over so I can fill both our bowls. I get a tray, since he’s still pretty messy, and to erase the guilt for the sugary cereal, I add a banana and a glass of milk for him to drink. I make a large coffee for myself and carry the tray of food into the living room. Getting comfortable, we both dig in and watch cartoons.
We’re on our second bowl when the others wake up and join us. When Luka and Lara arrive, they find the adults laid out on the couch, Roma hyped up on sugar and dancing to whatever cartoon song is playing, and a happy Mira sitting in her saucer seat and slobbering all over her teether toy.
“Looks like you all are having fun,” Luka says, laughing when Roma hears his voice and comes running to jump in his arms. “I see your uncle fed you enough sugar to wake an elephant up,” he says, making Roma laugh even harder.
Lara pats my shoulder when she walks by and says, “He loves his mornings with his Uncle Damien. The psychotic sugar rushis worth it.” She leans down to kiss Mira’s head before looking at my parents. “How’d she sleep? Was her teething bad?”
“She was perfect,” my mom quickly says.
“Slept all night long,” my dad says, “and woke up with a big smile.”
While the others walk to the kitchen to grab some coffee, Luka sits down next to me, watching his son grab his dinosaur toys and start playing. “So you’re headed to Max’s?”
“Yeah, I finally talked Ev into coming with me,” I say.
