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“I said you could ask anything, and I meant it. That photo tells a story of before my life in Chicago. Before my mother made choices that would put us both on a dark path.”
“It’s you and your mother?”
“Yes. Her name is Nadezhda.” He pauses.
“She’s alive?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. She’s quite well and living in Moscow.”
“How old were you?”
“Four. It was right after the mining accident in Vorkuta, where we lived. My beginnings are humble. Nothing like what you see now.” He chuckles but the humor doesn’t meet his eyes. “The mine filled with methane gas and exploded, killing dozens of workers. My father was one of the bodies they never recovered.”
His fingers clench, tightening their hold on mine.
“It must have been so awful to be so young and lose him like that. I can’t begin to imagine losing my dad or mom.” The words turn to ash as I voice them. Sasha lost his father in a work accident. I could lose mine because of horrible choices he’s made, and it’s not at all the same. “I didn’t mean to compare the two.”
He cracks a smile.
“I know. After the accident, my mother had to take care of us. My father had been the sole provider for our family. With him gone, we had nothing. She did her best, but it soon became apparent that we wouldn’t survive much longer. She…took care of the men in our village for payment. It wasn’t until I got older that I understood exactly what that meant. She finally earned enough money to move us to Moscow where she thought she could earn more as a steady mistress to a rich businessman.”
I’m at a loss for words, so I keep quiet and let Sasha continue his story.
“That’s how I met Aleksei. His father took a liking to mother and set her up in an apartment near to his home.”
“Sasha.” Tears pool in my eyes, heartbroken for the little boy and his mother who became a prostitute to support her son.
“Don’t cry for me, Natalya. My mother enjoyed her work, which is saying something. She was lucky none of the men beat her or hurt her badly. There was one before Aleksei’s father who was evil, but my mother took care of him. She’s a tough woman, and I think she’d like you very much.”
I laugh through my tears. “So you and Aleksei grew up together?”
“Sort of. When his father learned that my mother had a son, Aleksander took me under his wing. Aleksei was eight years older than me and nearly an adult, but he treated me like a brother. Aleksander trained me. Demanded I work for him and protect Aleksei. It’s worked out well for the most part. I don’t have any regrets and I got to come here to Chicago where Aleksei rules in his father’s place.”
“So you owe him?”
“No. I’ve paid off any debts and then some. My mother, being a shrewd businesswoman, started a cleaning business.”
“Cleaning?”
“Dry cleaning and laundry. I’m not sure I can speak to any other activities, but essentially, I’m the heir to her cleaning legacy.”
“Well, that’s unexpected.”
Sasha throws his head back and laughs. “She decorated my place. Her bedroom when she visits is the one with the Winter Palace painting.”
“Then why the sadness?”
“It took us a long time to get here, and I remember being hungry and fighting in the streets to survive. Both my mother and I made choices to protect the other during those days before meeting Aleksei’s father. Those are stories for another day.” He runs his fingers through my hair gently untangling a snarl in the back. “What does my solnishko want to do today?”
“Find some underwear?”
“Nyet. I like this look on you. What else?”
“Hmm.” I tap my finger against my lips. “What’s something your mother used to make? I mean, did she cook much growing up?”
“She did when we had some money. She made borscht often, and I miss the soup on a cold winter day. Then there was golubtsy and zharkoye when we could get meat.” He pats his belly.
“Let’s go buy groceries and I’ll show you my skills in the kitchen.”
