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Waiting in a school pick-up line is not something I expected to have to do. The line of average-looking cars extends nearly the entire length of the school and down the small street. It doesn't appear that many students are taking the bus. To combat the late afternoon heat, I keep the windows rolled all the way up.
I haven’t made as much progress today as I would have liked. It seems that whoever Helena is pretending to be here is a fact well-concealed. She must be working with somebody. I doubt that she would have been able to cover her tracks this well if she were doing all this by herself. Not because she isn’t resourceful per se, but because she simply doesn’t have access to the right sorts of resources out here.
There is something bigger happening here. No doubt. So I will have to get to the bottom of things.
I run my thumb over my bottom lip, my elbow resting on the driver's side window. My car sticks out like a sore thumb, but I could never part with it. Sitting here idly is grating on my nerves. Too many people lingering around and making small-talk instead of picking up their children. Before long, I spot Henry. He’s speaking to the same kid with the circular glasses that I noticed before.
Has he made friends already? Thoughts of my current mission slip to the side as I focus on the exchange between the two kids. Henry spots my black car and smiles at his friend before hurrying over to me. He’s already so much more relaxed than he was this morning. I was worried over him for nothing. Ofcourse,he would adapt to anything I throw at him.
The car rocks from one side to the other softly as Henry throws himself into the back seat. His smile only grows as he pulls his backpack off and buckles up.
“Good first day, I presume?” I ask my ward.
“Yeah! Just you wait until I tell you everything! It’s so different than New York.”
“I’m on the edge of my seat with suspense.” It’s not even that much of a lie. I have to actively fight from smiling too wide. I pull forward slowly, inching forward as I keep my eyes trained for one particular body to leave the school.
“Uh,hello? You promised me food!” Henry counters and folds his arms expectantly across his chest.
“That I did. Good catch.”
I think I’m going to miss her. Perhaps she’s already left or staying late.
Suddenly, just before we have to pull out of the parking lot, I spot a blonde leaving out the back door. Helena is headed toward the saddest-looking car I’ve ever seen, but I get what I need.
Her license plate number.
CHAPTERFOUR
Helena
Idid it.
My first successful day living as Sofia Petrov has been a complete and somewhat miraculous success. She’s a part of me now.
I can do this. I canreallydo this.
I'm filled with a renewed sense of hope. I've got the radio on low in the car, and for the first time in a long time, I'm tapping my fingers against the steering wheel to the beat. I have no idea what the words are or who is singing them, but I wiggle in my seat in time with the music. I just can't stop myself. Today was abigvictory for me. I actually enjoyed it. I liked the students. I enjoyed getting their feedback on various issues. Talking to them is fascinating.
With the first day of school over, my next visit is to Abram Sidorov. He’s the closest thing I have to family out here. At least, he’s the closest thing to family I’m willing to claim. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He was there for more important life milestones than my father ever was. Despite being best friends with my father, Abram had different priorities. I’m more grateful to him than he will ever know. There’s nothing I could ever say to put to words how much I owe him.
He was my father's most trusted man. When I was old enough to venture out into the world on my own, he trusted no one else to keep an eye on me. Abram was my bodyguard and confidant throughout my adolescence, and he remained so long after my father died. He's the one who saved me with Nikolai that night. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here.
He nursed me back to health in secret, and when the time came, he arranged this whole new life for us as well. Abram is renting a small, two-bedroom house just past the only real subdivision of the town. Naturally, he is doing so under a false name. The street that he selected is mostly abandoned, which suits us as well. Abram likes his privacy as much as I do.
I pull into the garage and shut the door behind me. I shove the car door shut with my hip and wince at the creaking noise that it makes. Someday, I will adjust to not having a driver anymore. I step out of my basic, nude heels and leave them on the mat before the concrete steps of the garage. This small house is such a drastic downgrade from all those I’ve known before. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to not having security posted at every entrance and people watching my every move.
But that isn’t to say that this doesn’t have its own appeal. No giant drafty rooms filled wall to wall with pointless artwork. No stuffy, overdrawn meals that you have to dress up for. No obligations to fulfill. Soft music plays from a thrifted record player in the small living room, but it still manages to fill the house. From the kitchen, I can hear Abram singing the words to a Russian country song under his breath. His heavy accent blends the sounds as he cooks.
I think he enjoys living at a slower pace. Even with his back turned, I can see the slightly off-beat way that he bobs and wiggles his hip to-and-fro to the music that he’s singing along with. His movements are slower now, slightly unsteady as a result of the arthritic hip he keeps denying having. Abram’s the sort of man who thinks he can tough anything out and, naturally, never asks anybody for help.
It’s really no wonder that I’ve likened him to a superhero in my mind since childhood.
A year ago, I would have done anything to keep myself from a life filled with unflattering yellow lighting and having to clean up after myself. I’m not too proud to admit that I was beyond spoiled. Hell, I was thedefinitionof spoiled. Even still, there’s a sense of calm that comes over me as I move barefoot into the kitchen.
Whatever Abram is cooking, it smells delicious. There’s an intoxicating blend of spices and what seems to be a sauce simmering on the small range top. He has never seemed out of place, no matter where I’ve seen him over the years, but he really seems to have come into his own here.
He must sense my presence because he turns with a wooden spoon still in his hand. “Ah! Zaya! You have come home so soon!”
