Page 47 of Fate and Family

The adjustment to life in America isn’t going well. My childhood was filled with money and power. Bullies never dreamed of hurting me. But all my bank accounts were frozen and seized after my “death” in Russia. Power is laughable here. Ian and I are nothing.

We’ve been surviving off the kindness of the Four Families. My uncle has avoided all contact with us or Uri. We’re living in an apartment owned by the Italian faction. Not only is Joey our landlord, but he’s also my boss. When he learned I had experience running a club, he hired me to look after his… business. I didn’t realize it was a sex club until I showed up. He just said it was a great back door opportunity. I think there’s a joke here, but I guess Katya was right, I’m not that funny.

That’s what she said. That’s the joke. I knew it could come to me.

But I work nights, which means I’m home for Ian after school. It’s the mornings that are the issue.

Every day it’s been a fight to get him on the bus. Kids are cruel to anyone who’s even a little bit different. Between the trauma, language barrier, and his lack of interaction with peers at home and at school, he’s got tons to talk about with his therapist.

Alana makes sure all three of us see a therapist at least twice a week. She got Ian in with a specialist in childhood trauma who speaks Russian. I see Dr. Muria in the same practice and she did house calls while Uri was bedridden.

But it’s the women of the Four Families who have blown me away. The tiny redhead, Waverly, comes over every other day to check on Uri and restock our food. The aunts bought all three of us clothes—nice stuff too. But it’s been Alana who has been our bedrock.

Even now, as Ian hurls the green turtle action figure across the room, Alana doesn’t flinch. She leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching everything. She’s not at risk of getting hit by any projectiles. Ian’s mad, but he’s not stupid.

She sighs. “Contrary to popular opinion, around here, the public schools are better equipped for Ian. All the teachers are certified in their field and they have better resources for ESOL students.”

I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about. Honestly, I thought my English was decent until I came here. But everything I thought I was good at in Russia has been a huge gut punch.

Ian’s tiny fists ball as his whole body tenses like it’s ready to explode. “My bag is wet.”

Uri exhales and dips his head. “Shit.” He stays quiet for a moment. “The older kids stole your backpack and dumped it in the toilet, didn’t they?” He says all of this in Russian, and Ian crumbles to the floor, sobbing.

My heart breaks as I scoop him in my arms and hold him tight. I feel so useless. I can’t protect him from anything. What kind of man am I?

I don’t hear Alana cross the room, the heaving sobs are too loud. But I feel her knee on my back as she strokes Ian’s hair. “One week.”

He wipes his nose on my shoulder—most of my shirts have kid boogers on them. He sniffles and my eardrums rattle. “Huh?”

Her Russian isn’t that great, so she looks over to Uri to translate. “I have a work trip I need to go on, but when I come back, I’ll fix as much of this as I possibly can.”

Ian digs his chin into my neck. “No go.”

He hates it when Alana leaves. He figured out whatever Alana does for a living, it’s dangerous. And if I’m being honest, I hate it too. All three of us relax a little more when she’s in the room.

“I have to go. But when I get back, I promise you, things will be better.”

She presses her lips to the top of his head before standing to whisper something to Uri. He squeezes her arm as she walks toward the door. It’s the closest act of affection I’ve seen from either of them. Ian cries harder once the door closes and it’s just the three of us.

Uri turns on the TV and finds that turtle show. Ian lifts his head off my shoulder long enough to wipe his nose on my collar. He unlatches himself from my neck and sits in front of the television.

I check my watch. I’ve got an hour to shower and get to work. “You two going to be alright?”

Uri walks into the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal. Since coming back to America, he eats cereal for dinner at least twice a week. It’s an act of rebellion. There’s no way his fatherwould’ve let him eat the cheap high-fructose food at dinner. Now that Uri’s back, he’s going to do whatever he damn well pleases—as long as Alana says it’s ok.

“Yeah. We’ll be fine.” Uri pours milk into the bowl. “But don’t be surprised if you come home and find Ian in your bed.”

Nights have been rough for him. Lots of nightmares. He’s clung to me for six months and refuses to sleep alone. In the beginning, Uri was still on bedrest and having nightmares of his own, so all the emotional burden fell on me. Still, I hate all of this. I pat Ian on the shoulder and head off to the shower.

Every step we take, I keep feeling like I’m failing him. He barely speaks English, he’s being picked on at school, and he cries every night. Friends his own age? No one. Every once in a while, Waverly drags us to a dinner at her dad’s house. Waverly’s little sister was there last time. Ian and Shae sat next to each other on the same couch, watching some show about a cartoon dog. Neither of them seemed interested, but watching something was easier than talking. So, I get it.

I change into my work clothes: black pants, white button down shirt. I’m not in the Playroom tonight. I’m working the bar because someone called out, and I figure I’m not in a position to tell Joey, “No.”

Alana procured several forms of identification for me. While my license is “real”—it won’t be flagged in the system if I’m pulled over—I still drive cautiously. But I’m also used to Russian drivers, and the dash cam videos on the corner of the internet exist for a reason. The only ID I use on a regular basis is my Bulk Club Shopper card, and that one, I live in terror of losing. If I lose that, my whole world will come crashing down again.

The bar already has a few clients milling around, some of the regulars gathered at various high-top tables. Jade is already behind the bar. She’s got tattoos on the length of her arm and tonight her hair is bright purple. Last month, it was bright blue.She’s one of the club’s teaching subs—she’ll scene with regulars and act as an instructor to new clients. I get why she’s popular, she just doesn’t do it for me.

Uri suggested I get on one of those dating apps. You know, try to move on from having my heart shattered into a billion pieces. Alana even said she could use some algorithm to help me meet my soulmate. Like I’m fated to be with someone. Ha! My life has left me more jaded and cynical than before, and honestly, working here doesn’t really help. I’ve watched people share their most intimate moments with a partner, but some come in the next week with someone new.

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