Chapter Twelve:

“Dinner was pleasant?” My dad asked mildly as we entered his spacious home just over an hour later. After my luggage had been brought in, we were standing in the foyer when he spoke the words. I removed my boots and shuddered. My blood must have really thinned during my time living in Arizona. I couldn’t handle the harsh Siberian climate any longer.

How was I ever homeless in this city!? It’s so hard to believe.

“I could not finish it.” I reminded him dryly, rubbing my thin arms for warmth. “Nerves. Too much going on here.” I tapped my temple, and dad smiled with understanding. He didn’t say much as I pushed my mushroom soup around with the spoon, and we had it boxed up so I could have it for later. Once Evgeniya left and I’d hung up with Francine, my mind began working at the rate of a hundred miles per minute. Eating suddenly seemed inconvenient.

“Yes well, it’s waiting for you when you get hungry. I’ll put some tea on. Why don’t you get yourself settled? Surely you remember where your room is.” He sounded like he was far away mentally, and I frowned slightly. I knew it bothered him deep down, coming face to face with Evgeniya again after almost thirty years. They looked at each other with a lost longing, their unfinished story lingering in between them. For a moment, I wondered if she truly regretted leaving my father. He’s a good man; He didn’t deserve the pain Evgeniya caused him. Dad’s kindness toward her both confused and angered me, but I kept those feelings to myself. In the end, he’ll handle his own affairs, and I’ll handle mine.

“I do, and tea sounds perfect. I need to Skype Francine, will you excuse me?” I hugged my father lethargically before he started for the kitchen with a wave of his large hand.

“I’ll call for you when it’s ready. I like your girlfriend very much; If you’re still talking to her, I’ll say hello before we have tea.”

I smiled a little, thinking over what he said. While my dad never expressed any negative sentiments involving my sexuality, I knew he secretly wished I wasn’t gay. For no other reason than my own happiness and well being. The fact that he approved of and even liked Francine brought warm feelings forward. I don't know if I would have moved to the United States without his blessing.

“She’d love to see your face.” I welcomed him lightly, taking the suitcase containing my laptop and heading down the hall into one of my father’s many guest rooms. The pink one, with delicate lace trim along the window curtain and the softest bed he insists is my room here. The wall is covered with pictures from my infancy, but they’re hard for me to look at. Evgeniya is in a few of them, and she looks so unhappy in each and every one. I purposely turn toward the bed, unloading my suitcase until I come up with the MacBook Pro and it’s charger. My heartbeat quickened as I powered it on and logged into Skype. Francine is active, which means she’s waiting for me. I finger combed my hair quickly, glancing in a nearby mirror to make sure I still look presentable. Satisfied with my overall appearance, I initiated the call and took a deep breath.

“Hi detka.” My girlfriend smiled sleepily from our bedroom. Her dark blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she was still wearing her pajamas. I noticed how thin Francine seemed right away and felt my stomach twist into a knot. Did she stop eating?

“Hello, bunny.” I began carefully, rubbing my chin and studying her discreetly as she made herself comfortable against our many pillows. Francine suffers from Anorexia, a well known eating disorder, and was undergoing outpatient treatment for the disease up until a few months ago. Since we’ve lived together, I’m always cooking her favorite foods and monitoring her weight to make sure she’s not losing. My girlfriend’s sleepy expression melted my heart into a puddle. I longed to wrap her up in my arms so we could fall asleep together. Being away from her was pure torture. “I miss you.” I admitted sadly, sagging my shoulders. I won’t bring this up now; She looks tired. Here we have evening time in Tobolsk, so it’s early morning in Phoenix; Francine isn’t a morning person. She probably stayed up just to talk to me. “I hope I’m not intruding on your sleep, detka?”

Francine shook her head reassuringly, taking a small sip from the water bottle resting on her black nightstand. “It’s my day off. I’ve been hanging around Liza. She’s not in good shape, Vash. I still don’t understand why Brody would up and leave her.”

I didn’t understand it either. Was it because of distance? Maybe Brody didn’t want to worry while she’s needed elsewhere for the time being. No matter the reason, I felt terrible for Liza. I knew how much they both loved each other; Brody must have thought this was for the best....but why!?

“Is Liza still there with you?” I asked, shrugging out of my jacket and laying it neatly at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping on the couch. Her drinking is worrying me a little...but her girlfriend just broke up with her. I’m trying to be that good friend and let her have it...for a few more days at least.” Francine positioned her elbows on our bed, resting her chin in her palms while she swung her black sock covered feet back and forth.

She’s restless, I know the next question she’ll ask. Sure enough as I’m nodding, she continues.

“What happened during dinner? With your mom showing up?” Francine sounded curious, but presented her question gently. I sat back down, right in front of the screen so she could watch my facial expressions. I know she likes to, because I speak more with my body language than with words.

“I don’t know,” I started in frankly. “It’s odd that she was there, on the same night I flew into Tyumen. I thought my dad set this up, but he promised me I was mistaken. He’s never lied to me before so I just accepted her presence and focused on eating.” I paused to sigh, and ran both hands through my dark hair. “Now that Evgeniya knows I’m here, I’ll be pestered non stop until I eventually go visit at her residence. Dad thinks it’s a good idea to meet my siblings, but I’m not really interested. The age gap is drastic, and I no longer live in Russia. I’ll return to the United States and never talk to them again.”

Francine chewed the inside of her cheek and made a few sounds to let me know she was listening. “I understand that, but detka aren’t you the least bit curious about them? I remember you telling me how you wished you had siblings growing up.”

Curious? No. I didn’t want to hear about how Evgeniya and her new husband wanted Dmitry and Alexandria. It’s not their fault, and I have no ill wishes for them...but what could they do with a twenty seven year old gay sister? Especially one who fled Russia for a better life? Nothing. The feeling is mutual, I have no need for them either.

“Bunny, when I said that, I meant I wished I had siblings my age. Someone to confide in, someone who would protect me from all the bullying I received as a small child. Since I had no mother or father, I hoped for a sibling. Not by blood, but bond." At my explanation, Francine nodded to show understanding.

“It might turn out to be not as bad as you think though, detka.” She pressed, and I felt my back stiffen as I sat up straighter. “You flew back to Russia for a reason, you know? Your dads there sure, but I think there’s part of you that really wants to know why your mom did what she did. It’s ok to wonder, you have that right. Sometimes we have to look at the bigger picture instead of focusing on the smaller pieces to complete a puzzle. You’ll regret this someday if you don’t do what you came back to Tobolsk to do, Vasilisa.” Her tone was kind, but firm. She was talking to me the way she does when I’m acting stubborn.

I knew Francine was right, maybe I just hoped she wasn’t all this time.

********************

It was after ten by the time I was ready to leave my dad’s for a few hours. He retired to bed about an hour ago, and it’d been even longer since I ended the Skype call with Francine. I assured her I wasn’t mad, I just had so much to work through still before agreeing to see Evgeniya again. A hot shower helped to wake me up, and I changed into a pair of black jeans and a plain maroon colored sweater. Since it’s so cold, I unpacked my leather jacket and threw that on top. My hair is fixed with gel, and I’m wearing my favorite black combat boots. Frowning at my complexion in the guest bedroom, I finally looked away and grabbed my old car keys from the kitchen table on the way out. Dad held onto them for me, and kept the vehicle insured.

In case you ever move back home. He joked halfheartedly. Well, I’m visiting so close enough.

Opening my WhatsApp, I wrote to Zoya, one of my former friends I’m meeting at a local bar.

SMS: I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Read.

SMS: I’ll buy your first drink. I brought cards.

I started the ignition of my black Lexus IS-250 and sent a quick reply back before taking off out of my dad’s eight car garage.

SMS: A beer is fine, I gave up vodka.

The whole drive there, I didn’t glance at my phone again. My head hurt too much to listen to music, and the weather was so bad I had to be extra careful on the road anyway. I hadn’t talked to Zoya Sokolova since I left Tobolsk, and wondered how she was doing as I tapped my black leather gloved fingers against the steering wheel. She was a few years younger than me, a naive lipstick lesbian who was always chasing after women who already had girlfriends. I warned her of this behavior many times before, but it wasn't until one of the girlfriends had enough and split her lip open in a physical altercation that she really understood what I was saying. I can't stand homewreckers, but Zoya kept up with me at the bar and isn't a sore sport at Durak (Russian card game, similar to "war". The object is to shed all your cards before the other players.) So for these reasons, I continued to keep her company.

I pulled into a available parking spot in front of Pyatnitsa, the old bar I used to go to all the time and forced myself to exit the warmth of my car. It's rusty exterior made me anxious, and I tried not to think about how drunk I used to get here. As soon as I opened the doors, I immediately noticed the dim atmosphere and began searching for Zoya. My eyes fell on a small woman, dressed in a cherry red petticoat and black tights nursing a frozen strawberry margarita. Her platinum blonde hair had been arranged into a neat bun. I felt my legs go numb. As I was about to leave, she turned around in her stool. Her amber eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Vasilisa!?" That familiar raspy voice made me want to stab my eardrums.

I cursed internally. She already spotted me, I couldn't leave now. I'd look like a coward. As my EX girlfriend continued to gawk at me, I gave her a slow nod. I hoped my expression was completely blank.

"Hello, Olya."