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The funeral begins in the morning, highlighting the tenacity of my brother’s ambition, love, and sacrifice throughout his short life of thirty-two years. There are speeches given, some by people I’ve never seen or heard of before, but I can’t get possessive of Misha at his own funeral.
I thought that the weeks leading up to this day would have given me a chance to form a buffer between my emotions and my outward self. I feared the day that I’d have to fight the urge to break down as I gaze into a board of photos placed near his urn, but the tears won’t stop if I allow them to take over.
Saying goodbye to Misha makes the wound in my heart feel even deeper and harder to access. The knowledge of his death was enough to destroy me irreparably forever, but now all I have left are memories. I have the same photos as everyone else, but the weight of losing him will crush me more than anyone else here.
Forever.
That’s my burden now.
After the service, I lock myself in one of the bathrooms and lose my composure for the first time since Vera left. I hate to even be thinking about her right now, but she’s given me no choice.
How could she leave me during the lowest point if my entire existence? She knew what I was going through, and she knew she was the only one who could help carry me through it before she chose to be so selfish.
It feels sobering to consider that every single person here, including me, is only out for themselves at the end of the day. Whether it be for greed, power, or adoration, everyone is playing a game called the Social Contract with each other. We provide meaningless platitudes and energy to advance the needs of people who would step over us if we were lying in the street.
Misha would have known better than to get involved with someone as young and fickle as Vera. He had far fewer girlfriends than I ever did, but the ones he kept around always seemed more established and well-rounded.
I’ve even seen some of them here at the funeral today, wandering around the auditorium with a forlorn, lost expression on their faces.
Would anyone ever look that way over my death?
Certainly not Vera.
All I can hope for her is that she finds what she’s looking for, but I know she never will. She’s had the first major experience of her life with me, and no vacation or job on earth is going to replace that for her.
Someday, she might figure that out. For now, I’ll let her live her life.
I hate myself for wishing she would come back. She’s already made herself more than clear to me – her hypothetical future is more important than what we had together. Why would I want to be with someone like that anyway?
I wait for Yan in his rental car, dreading the awkward silence that will fall over us as soon as he steps inside. He’s never been the type to give meaningless accolades and reassurance, but I’m afraid he might try due to the circumstances.
When I see him approaching, I pretend to scroll through my phone. The last thing I need right now is eye contact with anyone.
He opens the door, easing himself into the car as he readjusts the mirrors and seat position.
“It’s these damn cheap cars they’re making these days. They look nice, but the motor in the mirrors and seat never fucking works right,” he complains, fighting with his seatbelt as his anger takes over.
He doesn’t look at me as he starts the car, and for that, I’m grateful.
The first few minutes of the drive is silent, but he manages to ease into conversation once we’re on the highway. “I was expecting you to bring that girl with you. Vera, was it?” he says, cursing under his breath as he misses the exit.
I wish there was something I could do to spare myself the uncomfortable confrontation within my feelings, but I’m trapped in a car with Yan until we get to our hotel thirty minutes away. He wants me to deal with this head-on, and he isn’t going to let up until he feels like I’vedone the work,as he says.
“No, that didn’t pan out. Different priorities,” I say, intentionally keeping my words short and to the point.
Yan senses my hesitation, but he’s not anywhere near ready to let this die. He must have sensed something about Vera, because he’s never failed to be actively disinterested when he knows I like someone.
“Tell me about that.”
A deep sigh escapes me, and I’m lucky I was able to keep myself from rolling my eyes at him. “I’d really rather not.”
“You need to talk this out, Ruslan. Talking about a girl that broke up with you will be easier to do than process what just happened. You need to keep your mind and your emotions moving, or they’ll get stagnant, and you’ll be a shell of yourself forever,” he replies.
I sink into my seat, feeling my heart growing heavy at the thought ofprocessingmy feelings about Vera. The word itself feels so sterile, and it doesn’t even begin to describe the depth of my sadness.
I take a deep breath, facing away from him as I stare out the passenger window. The landscape around us has changed from a small town to a vast expanse of hills and farms. It feels so desolate and empty, and I’ve never connected more with my surroundings than right now.
“It’s not important to talk about her,” I say. “She doesn’t want to be with me because she wants to have a normal future with a normal house and a normal husband. I don’t think she could handle the bratva life, not like I did before at least. I had a lot of hope for her, but I guess she didn’t.”
