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My fingers shake as I roll up the sleeve of my shirt, starting with the cuffs, and I don’t stop until it reaches past my elbow.
I rest my arm on the desk and expose my forearm to the ceiling. My father lets out a long exhale and taps the ash into the tray. “The next time you think about shirking your duties, look at your arm and remember what happens when you defy me.”
He brings the end of the cigar down on my forearm, pushing and twisting into the skin. I close my eyes and wait out the hot pain, but the smell of burning flesh hits my nose.
Soon, the site grows numb, and when my father is satisfied, he lifts the cigar and disposes of it in the ashtray. I glance down at the circular mark on my skin, surrounded by similar, white scars faded with time.
“You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, Otets.”
Chapter 5
Willow
Galina has me stand in front of the full-length mirror in my room. My school uniforms arrived this morning, and they need to be tailored.
“They are too big on you.” She tsks. “David, I thought you said she wore size small?”
My father leans against the doorway with his arms folded. “That’s what she told me.”
Since our blowup fight at the Ambassadors’ Dinner two nights ago, we haven’t said more than a few words to each other. The tension in the house is palpable, though Galina pretends not to notice.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
I take a good look at myself in the mirror, which I haven’t done in a long time. My focus was on how thin and frail Mom had become over the past year, but I didn’t notice I was wasting away, too.
The girl in the mirror isn’t one I recognize. My brunette hair used to be shiner, healthier. And my brown eyes, peering out from dark sockets, weren’t always so dull. There’s even a sickly pallor to my skin.
No wonder Aleksandr Kurochkin didn’t want to sleep with me. But his rejection still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I will take in the skirts,” Galina says. “But I will have no time to finish the shirts by tomorrow.”
“That’s fine,” I answer.
She starts pinning the skirt, and I stand as still as a statue to avoid being pricked. My eyes glance over my shoulder in the mirror, where my dad stands. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and then he retreats into the hallway and disappears.
When she finishes, I take off the skirt and hand it to her, the white button-up shirt hanging loosely over my underwear. She gathers up the uniforms in her arms, along with her sewing kit.
“I will iron these for you. You will look perfect for your first day of school. Not to worry.” She smiles at me in the mirror before leaving, and I cross over to close the door behind her.
I shrug off the navy blazer, which has the school’s red lion crest embroidered on the chest, and I unbutton the white shirt underneath. It comes with a tie, but maybe I can get away with wearing it loose, like Serena from Gossip Girl. At least I can pull off the knee-high socks.
All I want is a hot bath before crawling into bed tonight, so I throw the clothes over my vanity chair and slip into my robe.
When I open the door, I catch a glimpse of my father and Galina standing in the hallway. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and this simple action says everything.
He and my mom divorced a long time ago, but he loved her once. So why does he act as though her death means nothing to him, touching another woman when Mom’s body is barely cold?
He’s happy, and I’m miserable. And I fucking hate it.
With as much force as I can muster, I throw the door open the rest of the way, making it rattle on the doorframe. My dad jumps, and his eyes dart to me.
His face grows two shades paler when he sees me. “Willow, let me explain—”
“So, I was right. You really are screwing the maid.” My hands ball up into fists, digging my fingernails into my palm to keep me from going ballistic.
“I will not have you speak about Galina that way. Apologize to her. Now.”
