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Suddenly, Misha’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn around only to see him at the top of the stairs. He looks hesitant, casting his gaze to the floor as soon as I look at him, but it looks like he can’t help his curiosity all the same.
With a warm heart, I can’t help but chuckle. “Navy Pier. Do you know that place?”
“Yes. My English teacher told me about it.”
“Have you ever been there?”
He shakes his head.
“Do you want to go?”
Misha finally raises his head, glancing at me before looking around. Sasha’s absence is clear in the quiet of the house, and I can see hesitance in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can.”
“I’ll talk to your mom, don’t worry about it.” She may cut out my guts, but I think I can deal with it. “So, are you in?”
After a few seconds of hesitance, Misha nods.
He doesn’t trust me, though, that much is clear, and all the way to the pier he remains tense and quiet, just staring out the window with his hands clasped on his lap. I can’t blame him, of course—he barely knows me. But that’s exactly what I want to change today.
As soon as we arrive, I send a quick message to Sasha to let her know that we’re in the city. After all, making her lose her mind and getting all three of us in trouble are not my goals. But I switch my phone to airplane mode as soon as the message is delivered and put it in my pocket.
“So where do you want to go first?” I turn to Misha with a grin and gesture at the bright scenery behind the windshield.
The weather is warm and sunny for December, and there are plenty of tourists all over the place. But it’s not even half as bad as it usually is during the summer, and that’s good. I don’t want to overwhelm Misha with a crowd of strangers. The stalls with street food are exuding steam, the amusement rides are flashing with colors, and the water of Lake Michigan is as cold and calm as ever.
“I don’t know,” Misha mutters with his gaze darting all over the place. Of course he doesn’t. He’s never been here!
I demonstratively pat myself on the forehead, hoping to earn a chuckle from him, and look around. Well, the Children's Museum would be a good place to start, right?
As it turns out, though, we had to make a reservation beforehand, and all tickets are sold out for today. It’s been a while since I wasn’t allowed to enter a place, but I’m not in the mood to show my gun in front of a bunch of kids, so I only glare at the cashier and walk away. Whatever. I’m sure there are better places around—and it doesn’t take long for us to find them.
It’s been a while since I visited Navy Pier, and it almost surprises me just how many attractions there are for children of all ages. Carousels, gardens, enormous cruise ships, stalls with toys and cotton candy, and of course, the amusement rides. At first, Misha only looks at them with big eyes but shakes his head whenever I invite him to take a ride, but after a long walk along the pier, I see that he’s starting to get used to it.
I don’t know if it’s the place, the sweet smells, the lively music, or the children running around, but Misha’s tension gradually weakens. Instead of staying glued to me, he starts exploring more and walking to the side of the pier to look at the dark water. He is a curious kid, so when he finally allows himself to show it, excitement quickly takes over.
Misha doesn’t yell or run around like the children around him, but he becomes more open and lively, and it warms my heart to watch him sigh with awe when we reach the end of the pier. The lake stretches in front of us all the way to the horizon, and waves gently beat against the cement blocks of the pier. It is quite a pretty sight.
“Do you like it here?” I ask when we finally turn back, and Misha finally smiles at me and nods. “Good! That’s good. Now, do you want to take a ride on this wheel?”
I point at the Centennial Wheel standing above the pier, and even though his eyes open wide and he bites his lip in uncertainty, Misha eventually agrees. But to get there, we have to survive a huge line of tourists, so I buy both of us corn dogs and ice cream and stand next to Misha so that the wind blowing from the lake doesn’t reach him. If I get him sick, Sasha will skin me alive.
“You know,” I mumble through a substantial bite of pistachio ice cream, looking at the sun slowly descending toward the horizon. “When I was two years older than you, Mom took me here for my birthday. I was training very hard at the time because I wanted to become a better Mafia member—at least, better than my best friend Riccardo.”
“Riccardo?” Misha repeats with a frown, and I guess the name is familiar even to him.
“Yes. He is the head of our family now, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still better than him.” I wave a hand, and Misha chuckles, munching on his cone. “But what I’m saying is that, when Mom and I were coming back home that day I told her that I wanted to be a pirate.”
He huffs and fixes his glasses. “Pirates aren’t real.”
“Oh, they are, but I didn’t know anything about them. All I wanted was to hop on a boat and sail to the horizon with my mom.”
“Isn’t it a lake?” Misha looks around with suspicion before looking up at me. “You wouldn’t sail far away.”
“You are too smart for your age, do you know that?” I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he huffs, but I can see a satisfied smile in the corner of his lips. Who would’ve thought it would be so easy to make him happy? “Alright, now, if you’re so smart do you see a trash bin anywhere near here?”
Misha immediately points at a bin just five feet away, and I chuckle, take a corn dog stick from his hand, and throw it away along with my napkins before returning to the line. Damn, it still looks enormous.
“Do you think we’re gonna get there today?” I glance at the setting sun before turning to Misha, and he shrugs.
