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My left foot slips for a moment, and I barely catch myself as the rest of my body shakes from panic and exhaustion. I probably should have been doing the exercises my doctor instructed me to do in order to keep my body from deconditioning. So little work, and I’m ready to call it quits.
I’m embarrassed for myself.
Another two steps forward. I’m starting to feel a bit more confident, planning out the rest of my walk as the space between me and the door closes.
At this point, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m actually doing it without anyone’s help.
I press on, reaching the doors as I release my hands from the back of the wheelchair. As I let go, I’m positive that I’ve made a horrible mistake until I realize that I’m standing up at the end of my sprint.
I know better than to be overjoyed, but I’m so elated by my progress that I would dance if I could.
Just as I’m starting to feel like I’m strong enough to head back to my chair, I lose my footing and collapse onto the floor just as I had feared I would. The tiles hurt just as badly as I’d imagined, and my legs fold in on each other as my body finds its new position in a twist on the floor.
The tiles are too smooth for me to get a grip on them. I begin to panic, knowing that I’d stranded myself in the middle of the floor with nobody here to help me up. I didn’t even think to bring my phone with me, which I regret wholeheartedly now.
I want to burst into tears. I really believed that I was ready to walk by myself, that all of my hard work would pay off so easily. Guilt and deep sadness pull at my heart, and all I want to do is bury myself.
Just as I’m ready to resign myself to death right in front of the patio doors, I hear them open.
Leo walks through, looking as confused as ever as he glances from me to my wheelchair and then back to me again.
I don’t know a word of Russian. All I can do is reach my hand up as I beg this poor old man to help me up from the floor.
He takes my hand without hesitation. I fall a few more times as my grip on the floor falters, but by the fourth time, I’m able to stand and walk slowly back to my chair.
I let go of his hand, and at first, he seems confused and afraid that I’ll fall again. But I want to show him that I don’t need it. He’ll be the first person to see me walk again after the accident.
It should be Adas, but he isn’t here.
Slowly settling back into my wheelchair, I see Leo smiling warmly, almost like he’s seeing his own child walk for the first time. He’ll never understand me, but I want to thank him a thousand times for helping me and showing me that I wasn’t alone.
I can sense that he doesn’t want to see me go, that I might fly too close to the sun in a place where he won’t be able to see me. His concern for me feels paternal and intentional.
All I can do is smile back at him, mouthing the wordspasibain case I were to mispronounce it.
His eyes light up, tears of joy filling them as I turn myself around and head back for the elevator.
17
ADAS
We touch down at a private airport near the coast, and the sight of the water from the plane makes me wish we weren’t going to land at all. Knowing what I’m here to do has me jumpy and irritable. If Marat weren’t here, I would have wanted to bring River all the way out here with me.
There’s a car waiting for us when we arrive, compliments of Santiago, my main distributor. He’s been a friend of mine since the beginning when neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing in the game we found ourselves in. He’s one of the only people I know who I’d never believe would fuck me over.
Just a few miles down from the airport is a resort where I’ve decided to station the men I’ve brought with me. I’ve chosen to stay in a separate location for their safety, even though I know that most of them would die for me in the event of a shootout.
Doesn’t matter. I can’t let them become moving targets in case Marat finds out where I am.
I’ve put myself halfway between where Marat is supposed to be and the place that my men are staying. That way, they’re close enough that I can call on them if I need them, and I can also be ready to attack Marat when the opportunity strikes.
Santiago has offered to take me out to a rodeo on my first night in Mexico. It didn’t sound like my scene, obviously, but he insisted that he would pay. He just wants to talk to me, get a better feel for how things are moving in the states.
He wouldn’t let me refuse, and he had been one of the first sources of information on Marat’s location, so I can’t deny him.
I show up at the address he sent me, and he immediately embraces me in the most aggressive way possible. The hug itself almost feels like a threat somehow, but I appreciate it anyway. I know he only means well.
“How have you been, Adas? Looks like you’ve been getting kind of fat,” he says, gesturing vaguely towards me.
