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Maybe, in a way, I am.
But it’s too late to turn back now.
* * *
The gate at the end of the drive is open when I pull up. I don’t see any guards, and the sliver of the employee lot I can see in the back of the house looks empty. As I climb out of the car and mount the front steps, my heart is already in my stomach.
Something is wrong.
I expected Kirill to meet me on the front porch the moment I pulled up. He has a way of knowing everything going on at his property at all times. Whether he’s happy to see me or not, if he was able, he’d meet me at the door.
When I knock, though, it’s Sonya who answers. My wavering hopes are buoyed by her familiar face. That’s something, at least.
“Hi.” I raise my hand in a limp wave.
Sonya stares back at me, her expression unreadable. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh. Right.” I stand tall, trying to gather my thoughts. With all the courage I had to muster to get to this porch, I never actually planned exactly what I’d say. “I’m here to see Kiri—Mr. Kirill. Er, Don Zaitsev?” I sigh. “Kirill. Is he home?”
Something flashes across Sonya’s face. It looks alarmingly like pity. “He is not.”
“Is he just gone for the afternoon or…?”
Sonya purses her lips, and I can see her considering her options. In the end, she steps out of the doorway onto the porch and lowers her voice. “Mr. Zaitsev left the morning after Ilya’s death. He hasn’t been back since. I don’t expect him to return.”
My hopes crash to the ground at my feet. I try to speak, but my voice is thick. “You mean… he’s gone?”
“I’m sorry” is all Sonya says before she steps back inside. Instantly, I know whatever crumb of humanity she just showed me is gone. Now, she’s just the house’s caretaker again. An employee. It’s back to business as usual.
I fidget anxiously with my mother’s necklace draped around my throat. “Is there maybe a number I can get to call him?”
“I’m sorry, no.” Sonya gives me one last nod of her head and then closes the front door.
I stare dumbly at the closed door for too long, trying to make sense of what happened.
Finally, when it’s clear no one is going to open the door and announce that this was a cruel prank, I stumble down the stairs and walk around the mansion towards the beach.
I haven’t been near the water since the night Ilya died. Part of me was afraid I would hate the sight of it now. All of the love my mom had for the ocean, all of my good memories, washed away in one tragic second.
As I take my shoes off and press my toes into the sand, however, the ocean calls to me the same way it always has.
The roar of the waves. The warmth of the sand against my feet. The cool sea air, like a kiss on the cheek.
I walk to the middle of the beach and flop down. The tide creeps up higher and higher by the minute. Before too long, the cool water is tickling my toes.
“Hello there, ocean,” I say softly, speaking to the surf as a friend. “I think it’s just the two of us this time. No Kirill coming around the corner to surprise us. Well, actually, not just the two of us…”
I know he’s not here, but I look up towards the house anyway. The blinds have been drawn across the windows I know belonged to Ilya. The rest of the windows are dark.
He really is gone.
Except, not really. Not completely.
I’ll always have a little bit of him with me.
I press a hand to my stomach. A tear rolls down my cheek as I caress our baby. “It’sthreeof us, actually. Hello there, little one. I’m your mom.”
