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“Good. Because we have something to tell you.” Papa’s voice was sharper than usual and, making sure to wipe away the one tear that had fallen down my cheek, I finally turned to look at them.
“What?”
“Today you’re going to pack up all our clothes and put them in the suitcase.” My papa nodded his head towards the brown luggage by the door. I hadn’t even noticed it when I came in.
My heart sunk to my stomach. I’d finally gotten a friend, only to move again.
“Okay.” I tried not to show the hope I was feeling that I would still go to the same school. “Where are we moving to?”
“Far away from here.” My wishes were crushed in a single moment. I bit down on my trembling lip and stared out the window, where Alina was probably still swinging and laughing, laughing and swinging. I could barely hear them anymore. “Where we’re going, the government will give us food and a place to live. Plus, it’ll be warm, not like this shitty place.”
My mama laughed and they began to talk to each other, making grand plans about how much money they’d make. I faced the stove again, flipping over the four smallsyrnikis, when I realized papa was talking to me. “You want asyrniki?”
I swiveled, staring at him in disbelief. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” He nodded, his cold blue eyes on me. He had his arm around mama, his thumb brushing across her boney shoulder. “You’ll need energy to pack today.”
“You can have two.” Mama tilted her head upwards and towards papa, a proud look in her eyes.
“Thank—“ I shoved the first one in my mouth, not waiting until it was done cooking. They laughed as I gobbled down the rest of it, when my Papa came to stand over me. He pulled me into a hug, and I froze in surprise.
“You’ll see,detka,” he kissed the top of my head, using the nickname he hardly ever used. “There will be lots of food for moresyrnikisin Cuba.”
THREE
age9
"Knight, come here.” Abuelo's stern voice brokered no room for disobedience so I dropped the stack of papers onto the desk, racing out of his office and into the grand entranceway. Light filtered through big windows overhead, the sound of seagulls squawking in the distance as I stepped over the cream colored marble tile, my eyes taking in everyone standing there.
Both my Abuelo and Lita, my grandparents, stood inside the foyer, next to the gold and bronze Poseidon statue, along with two guards, rifles slung along their backs.
“Ven, hijo,” the deep voice of my Abuelo urged me forward again, his shrewd, penetrating eyes on me. “Say hello to Bogdan and Anna Krapivnik. They’ve just moved here from St. Petersburg, Russia.”
Standing a few feet across from my grandparents, was a matching couple. Both had boyish-thin frames and brown hair, peppered with grey. The man had large pockmark scars across his face that gave him a severe look, while the woman’s threadbare dress hung off her shoulders, revealing sharp, protruding collarbones.
Their cold, calculating eyes took me in.
I didn’t shrink under the weight of their gawking, but straightened my shoulders, meeting their stare with an unblinking one of my own. I nodded respectfully. “Nice to meet you.” I had to work to hold back the annoyance in my voice; I was impatient to finish my assignment before I could go to the beach.
They didn’t answer.
Abuelo’s bushy white eyebrows furrowed at their disrespect, but he gestured towards a young girl, standing next to them, “Now say hello to their daughter.”
"Hello." I plastered on a smile, waiting expectantly for her to answer.
The girl’s pink shirt was too tight across her shoulders, and her pants only came down to her ankles. She had two braids, tied at the ends with red ribbons, a contrast against her black hair. The braids were girly and childish, but I had to fist my hand to keep from pulling out the ribbon to see what her hair would look like undone.
She didn’t look up, keeping her stare fixed on the floor. "Hi."
Her voice was softer than expected, and her tongue flicked out, nervously running it over the edges of an interesting looking freckle on her upper lip before it disappeared back into her mouth.
“What’s your name,mija?” Abuelo bent over, tilting his head so he could hear better.
“Tatiana.”
“Tatiana,” he spoke the word deliberately, making sure to say it correctly. “Welcome to Havana, the most beautiful city in the world.” He took off his white, straw Panama hat and placed it on her head. She grabbed it, finally lifting her gaze from the floor. He flashed her a warm grin, and her face brightened, sharing a soft, shy smile with him.
“This is my grandson.” Lita, my grandma, pushed me closer to the skinny girl. “Tell her your name.”