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“I didn’t. That’s why my father is coming.”
“You stole his watches?” Dom’s features crinkle as he furrows his brow.
“No,” I say slowly. This is so embarrassing. “I stole his money to buy the watches.”
“Why?”
What can I say? To make me feel safe? It sounds so pathetic.
I can’t explain my motivations, but I love these watches. They are like an anchor for me. I don’t even wear them. I wear my vintage Tag Heuer, daily. Ironically, it was a gift from my father, and it made me feel special and as if he actually did love me. He gave it to me when I was sixteen, and I think that’s where this all began. With each purchase, I relive the moment of receiving something from him that made me feel cared about.
I used to glance down at my wrist and get a sense of connection with my father and my family through the watch sitting there. Then one day, I saw a vintage Omega in a store, and I went inside to look. I tried it on and loved how it looked. Then the jeweler began to tell me all about the watch’s history. It was an old piece from the 1960s. Apparently, the first guy who owned it had been a race car driver. He then said something to me that stuck with me ever since. He said he felt as if some of that man’s ambition and courage and drive resided in the very steel of the watch itself.
That watch is sitting there in my box with all the others, but it wasn’t anywhere near as expensive as the rest. I managed to buy that one with my own savings. I never wore it, but I took it out most days and looked at it and stroked my thumb over the cool metal links. Whenever I did, I felt as if I was somehow filled with the strength of the man who originally wore it.
In Russia, many of us have lived with poverty for a long time. There is an uncertainty to life in the country, no matter who you are. It’s not like here in the West, where for decades now people have been given a false sense of security. No one in Russia feels safe. Not truly. Certainly, no one within my family feels safe.
Our family has been run throughout history by a series of tyrants. At any moment, you could find yourself thrown out of the clan. Left alone, with no one to help.
My obsession only grew stronger when I had my Omega cleaned and serviced. They told me how much it had gone up in value, and I saw an asset as well as something that gave me personal comfort.
This realization, along with the way it made me feel connected to a secure past, meant that I soon began to get the itch to buy another. The problem was I had no more money. Many years ago, however, my mother had given me the details to a bank account. It had a lot of money in it and was held in Switzerland. She said it was an account of my father’s that he kept in case they had to flee the country. She was giving me the details in case I ever had to run. She told me in no uncertain terms to never take money out of it unless it was life or death. She had said to me, Kirill, my child, you must not take money from there ever, unless you are fleeing for your life. Because after you take the money, you will wish you were dead if your father finds out.
My mother clearly thought me a better person than I am. She gave me the account number and online banking details, with all the codes and passwords I would need to take out money.
It was too big a temptation for me.
Many months after buying the Omega, I saw a Rolex that I fell in love with. I went to look at it every day, pressing my face up against the jeweler’s window. I didn’t have the money to buy it, but the urge was riding me hard. I suppose in a way it was like Dom gets when he needs to cut himself. I was stressed and worried, and my father was being abusive. I felt as if owning that watch would put an end to the turmoil.
The knowledge of that account burned a hole in my gut, and I kept thinking back to it. I told myself I would just borrow the money. I told myself my father wouldn’t notice, because he had bank accounts all over the world, and that was just his escape plan account. A nothing. A tiny thing in Switzerland he’d probably forgotten about. He wasn’t going to check it regularly. He was too busy making deals, killing rivals, and building his wealth and empire. I would pay the money back when I could, and that would be that.
The only problem was, I never paid that money back. Once I’d done it, it seemed so much easier the next time. Every single time I took more money, I promised myself it would be the last time. No more, I’d say to myself. This has to end. Then one day I’d be walking down the street, and something would catch my eye. I’d obsess over it, and fixate on it, until I had to have it. That feeling would build in me, that tension and that need for release. The only thing that would make me feel better would be buying the watch. Then, of course, afterward, I would crash as the fear hit. I would tell myself that this was the time I’d gone too far. This was the time I’d be found out.
The watches only grew more expensive, the build-up more dreadful, the rush upon buying the timepiece more intense, and the comedown even worse.
I’m surprised it’s taken my father this long to find out.
“Kirill,” Dom says, putting his hand on my arm, “your father is going to kill you.”
“I know.” I shrug. Then I laugh, but it sounds strained and false. “He really might this time.”
“We’ll go get my dad. He might be the world’s biggest asshole, but he’s not going to let your father murder you on his college grounds.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Mackenzie has to be the priority. You need to go after her. I am sickened by my actions because it means I cannot be there for her when she could be in danger.”
“Tino is with her. At least, I assume he is.”
This news surprises me. “Oh? So, she’s okay?”
“No fucking idea. The bastard has turned his phone off.”
A fresh twist of worry goes through me.
“Call him again.”
He does, and it rings this time. Dom puts it on speaker phone.
“Yeah?” Tino answers as if he’s all chilled out.
