Page 22 of Night So Silent
The corner of his mouth curls slightly. “I like your story better.”
“What’s the real one? If you’re not a chess master on the run, that is.”
“Who taught you how to play chess?” he asks.
“My dad,” I sigh. “He’s an electrical lineman, like my brother is now, and this is what he did when he came home from work, especially after traveling. He said it helped him relax while still keeping his mind sharp.”
“My mother taught me how to play chess,” Sergei replies after a long silence. “She likes the silence, too,” he adds with a glint in his eye.
I arch one eyebrow. “Oh, is that where you get it? Well, please let her know that her efforts were a great success. Is your dad the same?”
“One might assume so, because he spent so much time in remote forests. My father is very serious, but much more gregarious,” Sergei replies. “He worked for the government as anecologist, but we lived in a small town, far away from the cities. I had never been more than 100 kilometers from my house until moving to Canada.”
“Why did your parents decide to leave Russia?”
Sergei eyes the pieces and, after a few seconds, makes his move.
“I was sixteen when the war began. But my friends and I didn't know what was going on and we didn't care because we were just kids. Until, one day, my father came home and told my mother and I that we had 90 minutes to pack a bag because we had to be on an airplane and out of the country in 24 hours.”
“Out of the country?” I echo with eyes wide.
“I didn't argue because when my father says to do something, you do it. He told us to leave our phones, laptops, even our watches—all electronics that could be tracked except for his phone. Then we got in the car and drove for hours, through the night, to the airport. I asked where we were going and all he said wasvacationandto the mountains. But I’d never been on a vacation in my life.”
“But you were leaving Russia?” I study the board, looking for a clear path. “Why wouldn’t he tell you where you were going?”
“He didn't want to tell me in case we got stopped and I'd have to lie. On the plane, my mother stared straight ahead while it took off. And then as soon as the seatbelt sign turned off, it was like a switch flipped. She blinked, looked out the window, and then closed her eyes and began to cry. It was very shocking because she does not cry about anything. You solve your problems and don’t complain.”
“That would be very jarring to see your mom like that.”
“Yes. Then I had to sit for hours on a flight to Dubai, freaked the fuck out because my parents weren't acting like my parents.” But then Sergei cracks a smile. “And I didn't even have my phone to listen to music or watch a movie.”
“Oh,no!” I laugh.
That's the universal struggle of being a teenager, isn’t it? Fleeing your homeland and leaving your phone behind. A total travesty.
“But even then, my parents didn't tell me what was going on because we didn't stop, not until I set foot in Vancouver. They wouldn't even let me stop for a goddamn cheeseburger at the airport McDonald's.No. No time. We have to go.”
Finally, I move a pawn. “So, what did you do after you landed?”
“We stayed at a rental for a month. My father was on his phone all day. My mother finished her emotional outburst and was back to normal by the time we landed. Then she wanted to take me to the national park to go hiking.”
“Hiking?” I can barely stifle my smile. It’s not funny…but it kind of is.
“Hiking.” Sergei smiles back. “But I refused. I demanded to know why we were in a different country. I wasn't going to do anything until they told me. My father said,there's a war going on.To which I replied,who cares?We didn't live anywhere near the fighting. Who was going to come to our town? My tiny little life was in shambles and they wouldn’t even tell me why. I couldn’t even call my best friend, Anatoly, to tell him about it.”
“Did your dad finally tell you why?”
“You must understand, I never dared raise my voice to my father. And the way he looked at me…” Sergei glances up with a pointed look.
“Uh, oh.” I return the dubious look. “Was he angry?”
“My father is not a sentimental man. He lives by the laws of the forest. But, that day, he said,Sergei, my precious son,which he’s never called me in my life. Then he told me that the morning after we left, soldiers came to our town and took all the boys and men over the age of 15 to go to the front line.”
Sergei moves his knight.
“I never spoke to Anatoly again. All my friends were gone. And they’re all probably dead.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
