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Sometimes, I hurt, wondering how he could’ve abandoned us. It’s been almost four years, and my uncle’s top-notch contacts haven’t been able to find a trace of him.
Even if Anton was injured, it wouldn’t have taken him years to get better, right?
Short of Mike’s idle chattering and cheerful sounds, another cloud of gloomy silence overtakes the warehouse
I stroke his hair, greedily feeding off his bright energy. It’s hard to believe that I was once like him—carefree, cheerful, and utterly unaware of the disaster that was brewing in the background. Those times feel like forever ago.
“We’ll have to limit these meetings now that you’re in special ops,” Uncle Albert announces.
My fingers come to a halt in Mike’s hair, and his father must pick up on the change in my demeanor since he elaborates, “It’s not safe.”
“But I can at least see you and Mike once in a while, right?”
“No, Sasha. Leaving the base to meet your supposedly dead family members will only warrant attention. That’s the last thing we need.”
My chin trembles, and I hate having the sudden urge to cry. The wound that’s been pulsing beneath my flesh for four years gnaws and rips at the surface.
It’s like I’m in the middle of that blood all over again. I’m losing the remnants of my family, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Maybe once every few months?” I try in a voice so weak, I’m surprised he hears it.
My uncle shakes his head again. “Not while you’re in the Special Forces. They have stricter rules and stronger intelligence. I’m just glad we can still bribe the medical examiner and give you some privileges, but everything else is dark waters we shouldn’t tread near.”
“Then when can I see you guys?”
“A year, or a few. Depends on whether or not you can find the one who ordered the hit within the army.”
The pain in my chest grows and inflates. “He was a commandant, no? I won’t be able to get close to him unless I’m promoted several times. That will take years, if not decades.”
“Is that time not worth it?”
“It’s not about time, it’s about not seeing you again.”
“A small sacrifice to make.”
“Does…Babushka know about my future estrangement from the family?”
“She suggested this.”
“Oh.” My feet falter, and it takes everything in me to remain standing. I’ve never been my grandmother’s favorite grandchild, but she loves me. In her own strict, somewhat patriarchal way.
It’s no secret that she prefers boys. Girls are a liability—a means that could bring disaster and dishonor to their family—as my estranged aunt did when she eloped.
I’ve always felt like Babushka dislikes me for being saved by four of my male cousins, who all died. Her eyes tell me she wishes we’d traded places. But when I spoke to Uncle Albert about this, he said I was thinking too much.
However, he’s an expert conflict avoider. Of course he’d try to build a bridge between her and me. As he did with Papa and my third uncle.
“You’re still one of us. Even if the world knows you by a different name, gender, and appearance, I’ll always remember you as my Sashenka.”
“Uncle…”
“Say your name out loud, so you’ll never forget it.”
My lips tremble. It’s been so long that it feels foreign on my tongue. “Aleksandra Ivanova.”
“Sasha…Sasha…” Mike chants in my arms, and I smile.
When Uncle Albert attempts to take him away, he throws a fit and refuses to leave. He even announces that he’s not on speaking terms with his father.
