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She seems a little disappointed, but she doesn’t try to convince me to change my mind. “Okay. It’s whatever you want, and you know of course that you’re safe here for as long as you choose. I’ll go tell him. I just… Are you sure?”
I can practically feel Misha’s presence like a tractor beam, dragging me towards the house against my will. I want to see his face. I want to smell him and remember when things were good.
But I can’t. Not yet.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
99
MISHA
“Uncle Misha?”
I turn around to find Ilya standing in the doorway of the sitting room. His shock of dark hair flops over his forehead, sweaty and unruly, and his eyes are bright and intelligent. He looks exactly like his father did when Maksim was this age. It feels like gazing into the past.
“You’ve grown a foot since I last saw you,” I remark, waving him over. “How did I miss that?”
Ilya’s face clouds over. He doesn’t move from his spot. “Because you haven’t been around.”
That’s a gut punch. One that I should have expected.
He shifts in the light and I see that there’s a stubborn set to his jaw. He’s angry with me. And he has every right to be.
I beckon him over to me again. He hesitates for a moment before he walks over, chin held high and proud.
“I know I’ve been a lousy uncle,” I admit.
He looks at me like this might be a trap. Like he’ll be in trouble if he agrees.
“The thing is, I’m not as brave as your father. I can’t face things head on the way he could.”
Ilya shakes his head. “Papa always told me that you were the brave one.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. Another gut punch. This one was less expected. “He did?”
Ilya nods. “He told me that he was the thoughtful one, you were the brave one, and Aunt Niki was the fearless one.”
Maksim never said any of this to me. Now, all I can think is:what other thoughts did he keep hidden?
“My mom says you don’t come over anymore because you’re busy. Aunt Niki says it’s because you’re sad.”
I cringe. Leave it to Nikita to get to the heart of the matter.
“What does Grandma say?” I ask.
He shrugs. “She doesn’t say anything at all.”
My mother is the shining example of not saying anything you can’t take back. She held her tongue the entire time she was married to my dad. It’s not surprising she’s managed to hold it while I’ve shut them out for the last year.
“I’m going to do better from now on, Ilya. I’m going to be here more often. You won’t be able to grow a centimeter without me noticing. How does that sound?”
Against his better judgment, he gives me a small, hopeful smile. “Good.”
Someone clears their throat in the doorway. Cyrille is standing there. I can tell by her glassy eyes that she was listening in.
“I thought you’d be elbow deep in video games by now, Ilya.”
“I’m going, I’m going, I’m going,” Ilya groans, getting to his feet. “Bye, Uncle Misha.”
