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“It’s okay,” he says like it really is. Like he just needed an apology and everything would be good again. But I think he’s going to need a lot more than an apology from me. “And one of the strangers was my Uncle Tony! I didn’t know I had another uncle. He bought me ice cream and let me stay with him.”
Right, yeah. Angelo did say Gino had gotten him from Tony. I’d been thinking it was Alex, of course, but this makes sense, too. Tony doesn’t have a wife or kids, so he probably handed Artom over to Gino and Camilla.
My eyes finally start to clear up. I want to rush to Artom like Ana did, but he doesn’t know me any better than he knows Tony, and Ana deserves a moment with him, let her either remember him or just let her heart be soothed knowing that he’s back with us. The path forward is going to be harsh for all of us, but we’ll figure it out.
I don’t let my eyes focus on the spot where they embrace. I’m already too off kilter, and I need to do my job. I need to greet Gino and Camilla, thank them, and discuss our next steps. Review what’s happened with both Artom and Ana. Find out where she was and what I need to do to get any relevant paperwork. It’s the middle of the school year; I don’t even know how to put a kid in school or if I should hire a tutor. And if Ana’s memories are still going to be fighting her, I’ll need their help for even the small shit like making sure my apartment is safe for him until I find us a better place to live.
I hope Gino and Camilla knew when they flew out here that they were going to be stuck here for a while.
Nah, it’s fine. Camilla and Ana used to talk on the phone for hours at a time.
I wave at the chopper, and only then do I realize there’s only one person standing next to it, and it’s neither Gino nor Camilla.
Oh, fuck.
“Ana, come here,” I say as calmly as I can as Tony’s eyes lock onto mine and he grins victoriously.
Ana stands, lifting Artom like an old pro even though she’s so petite she looks like she’ll topple over. My brother and I were both stocky boys. Papa always said we were built for brawling. From what I can see of his back, Artom looks to have taken after me in that way, too.
She doesn’t say anything, just gives me a peevish look and shakes her head like she doesn’t get why I’d be acting like there’s a threat when Artom is here.
I take a step toward them, wishing I’d paid better attention to how far Ana had run to meet Artom. I don’t want to be too dramatic here, but she’s closer to Tony than she is to me, and I don’t like that.
“Artom!” Tony calls in the friendliest, fakest voice I’ve ever heard from that man. “You forgot your headphones! You should come back and put them on before the pilot turns the helicopter back on.”
“Okay, Uncle Tony!”
Artom slides down Ana’s body like this is normal, a little boy literally just monkeying around, having a good time. He presses his hand right into Ana’s to drag her with him as she starts to say, “Tony? Are you my—?”
“Brother, yes. I’ve been so worried about you, Lacey.”
She looks back at me, and the fear in her features has me relieved that I told her as much as I did about how we ended up together. She already knows Tony’s a bad guy. This isn’t so big of a deal.
And I do have a gun on me. If Tony tries to get really shady, I absolutely don’t want to kill him in front of my wife and son, they don’t need to see their brother and uncle go out that way, but I’ll do whatever I must to protect my family.
Ana stops, and her hand is firm enough that Artom has to stop, too.
“No, my name’s Ana, not Lacey.”
Tony begins to close the gap between them, his hand outstretched with a child’s sized set of noise-cancelling headphones, and says, “Is that what he told you?”
Artom’s hand slips free of Ana’s so he can grab those headphones. He’s about to put them on when he looks back at her— and at me.
Even in the shadow, it’s impossible anyone would think he wasn’t my son. God, he looks like a mirror reflection of my five-year-old self, like something out of a children’s show where the mirror shows your fantasy. My side would have been our modest, crowded homein St. Petersburg, with bunk beds for Artyom and me and a little sister— not even out of diapers yet— chasing after us, our faces dirty, our knees scuffed.
But we dreamed of living in the sky, Artyom and I did.
Artom looks at Ana, gives the sweetest laugh, and says, “Who’s Ana? Mommy, everyone knows to call you Miss Lacey. ‘Cept me, ‘cause I call you Mommy!” He plops those headphones on, like what he said didn’t just royally fuck up my world, and sticks his hand back out to her.
Tony reaches out for her, too.
She looks between us, unsure.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, zvyozdochka,”I remind her. “You can’t believe Tony.”
“How dare you?” he barks at me, all bluster, as he pulls Artom to him and places his hands on either side of the headphones as though to make sure no sound will get in. “You need to come with me, Lacey. Come home.”
“This is your home!” I yell, fighting the urge to rush ahead. I can see Tony’s shoulder holster.