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"Martin, slow down," I say into the phone, trying to absorb every word my manager is excitedly sharing with me in the background. "Tell me more about this show."
"Trust me, Tatiana," he replies, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "The production is going to be nothing short of stunning. The costumes, the sets, the lighting – it's all truly a work of art. You'll be performing alongside some of the most talented singers and dancers in the world. This is the kind of event that will take your career to new heights."
As I listen to Martin's description, my heart races with impatience. The thought of participating in such a spectacular performance sends shivers down my spine. I can already imagine myself standing on that magnificent stage, enveloped by the applause of the audience. It feels like a dream, one that I desperately want to make a reality.
"I'm going to call you with more details shortly. Pack your bags!" Martin sings into the phone, ending the call.
"Mom, Dad, can you believe it?" I ask them, unable to contain my enthusiasm any longer. "This could be a turning point for me."
Their expressions, however, are not as thrilling as I'd hoped. My dad furrows his brow while my mom wrings her hands together, her eyes clouded with worry.
"Sweetheart, we're very proud of you," my dad begins, hesitating slightly. "But Russia is so far away, and you'd be traveling alone. We don't know if that's such a good idea right now."
"Your father's right," my mom chimes in, her voice trembling. "You know how dangerous it can be over there. We traveled through there for a while in our younger years, remember? When did we find you and bring you to America with us? It's dangerous, Tatiana. What if something were to happen to you?"
I understand their concerns. I was just a child of three when my parents, of Italian descent, adopted me. To date, they tell me that they knew I belonged to their family from the moment they laid eyes on me. By that time, both my birth parents were gone from this world.
We came to America and found a middle ground in English, learning the language to be fluent.
I want to believe Russia is dangerous in their eyes, but the world has changed since. In my heart, I think they are worried about something else, something deeper. They might fear I'd fall in love with Russia and not want to come back, or perhaps worry that I'd want to learn more about my roots and forget them, but that's just not true.
I can't let fear - neither theirs nor mine - hold me back from seizing this opportunity. Taking a deep breath, I gather my thoughts and prepare to address their worries head-on.
"Mom and Dad, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not a child anymore," I tell them, my voice firm yet gentle. "I know how to take care of myself, and I have people like Martin looking out for me. If I let fear dictate my choices, then I'll never reach my full potential."
As I speak, I see the conflict in their eyes – the desire to protect me warring with the knowledge that they must let me spread my wings and fly.
"Besides," I continue, hoping to ease their minds, "it's not like I'm moving there permanently. It's just for this performance."
Silence fills the room as they exchange glances, weighing my words carefully. I hold my breath, waiting for their response, praying that they'll understand and support my decision. It's the only chance I have at reconnecting with my roots.
"Trust me," I continue, reaching out to give each of their hands a reassuring squeeze. "I'm more than capable of handling myself.Besides, I'll be in and out of Saint Petersburg before you even have time to miss me."
My father's gaze meets mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and concern. "I know you're strong, Tatiana. We just... we worry. You're our little girl, after all."
"I’m not so little anymore," I correct him gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I promise you, I'll be careful. I'll go straight from the airport to the opera house, perform, and then head right back. No detours, no distractions."
As I speak, I can see them slowly beginning to accept my decision. They nod reluctantly, their love for me forcing them to trust my judgment, even if it means letting me go halfway across the world without them.
"Please, guys," I almost begged, shaking with excitement.
"Oh, Tatiana," my dad finally says, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and apprehension. "We trust you. Just promise us that you'll be careful."
"Of course, Dad," I reply, feeling a wave of gratitude and relief wash over me. "I promise."
"Alright," my mom says finally, her voice barely audible. "Just... call us when you get there, okay? And whenever you can, while you're away."
"Of course, Mom," I agree, touched by their concern and determined to prove that their faith in me is not misplaced. "I'll call you as soon as I land and every other chance I get."
With their reluctant blessing, a renewed sense of eagerness courses through me. My heart races as I think about the opportunity in front of me – not only to perform at such a prestigious venue but to prove to myself and those around me that all those years of learning to sing meant something worthwhile, that I could be one of the greats someday.
"Thank you," I whisper, hugging them both tightly. "I love you both so much, and I promise to make you proud."
As they hug me back, I feel a surge of determination flow through me, propelling me forward on this new adventure. And, as I step back and look into their loving eyes, I can't help but feel that, despite their fears, they believe in me just as much as I believe in myself.
“Okay, so Mom, Dad, I’m calling Martin,” I say, peace washing over me, knowing that this is the right choice.
"Martin," I say with a deep breath, the decision firm in my heart. "I accept the invitation to perform in Russia."
