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“Wha… Why, sir?” I feel like this is a bad dream.
“Because I am your papa, as your mother said.”
Maman, where is she? I’m afraid to ask, afraid of everything, so I just whisper, “Okay, sir.”
The man walks ahead, and I follow him through twists and turns in the huge house. I don’t know how I’ll remember my way around. We turn a sharp corner, and there’s a wide staircase with red carpeting like I’ve seen in movies. Is that what this is? Am I on a movie set?
When the man climbs the stairs, the whooshing of his pant legs drowns out any sound I would make following him. It takes him a moment to realize I’m not behind him. I can’t move.
“Child?” The man stares curiously at me from over his shoulder.
“Mamansaid I do not go upstairs in a stranger’s house.”
“I am not a stranger. And this is not a strange house. I am your father, and you live here now.”
I feel dizzy. How can this be happening? Yesterday I woke up in my bedroom in Troyes, the sun shining and birds chirping, eating my favorite breakfast with Grandpapa, the person I loved with all my heart afterMaman. Now, I’m stuck in darkness with a strange language and smells. I don’t like this. I don’t want to be here.
A man holding my suitcases appears at my side. He speaks to the man in white in that language again.
“Da,” the man in black says, and jogs up the stairs past the man in white.
“Those are my suitcases.”
“He is bringing them to your room. Yulia will get you whatever else you need.” The man in white turns and keeps walking.
I follow him since all my clothes and toys were brought to the second floor.
Muffled music fills the narrow hallway, and the man in white throws a door open. “Anastasia!Lower that awful excuse for music.”
I wonder if he’s speaking English so I can understand.
“Oh, Papa.” A girl with beautiful long blonde hair like me comes to the doorway. She’s wearing jean shorts and a bright, flowery top that sits off her shoulders.
I self-consciously pinch the tips of my plain tan coat, feeling awkward and out of place. Her legs are long and smooth. She’s only two years older than me, but she looks so grown up.
Mamandoesn’t let me shave my legs yet, and they are very hairy. A sister. I have a sister? Maybe she’ll show me how to shave my legs.
“Who’s that?” Anastasia points at me.
“This is your sister, Katya.” The man uses that name I don’t like.
“What?” Anastasia’s eyes bulge. “Is she adopted?”
“Nyet.”The man shakes his head. “Anastasia, go wait in my office. I will explain everything to you. You are old enough to know the truth.”
“When the song is over.” The girl slams her door shut.
I giggle. I’m only twelve, but I can tell whoever this man is, he’s very powerful. He lives in this big, nice house surrounded by men with guns. But his daughter isn’t afraid of him.
Maybe I don’t need to be afraid of him either.
The man who says he’s my father turns to me. “Your room is there.” He points to a door across from Anastasia. “Yulia will help you make it however you want. Go.”
“Go?”
“To your room.”
“What… What about school?” I was really looking forward to my second year inle coll?ge.
