Page 15 of Mafia and Scars

Things in Russia ended very badly for me. I quickly shake my head, telling myself not to let my mind go there. Moving to America was meant to be a fresh start for me. A new beginning. Meeting Geliy felt like a fairytale at first. He was older, attractive, and Russian—a welcome familiarity after I moved to a foreign land. Then Sofia happened. Unexpectedly, but a blessing all the same. We got married and tried to make a go of things.

We have two children now—six-year-old Sofia and nine-month-old Leon. But after Leon was born, the end of our relationship came about. Geliy is ex-military and ex-special forces, and he definitely has some deep issues. He found it hard to settle down to normal life and was always taking security-type jobs away for weeks at a time. He said that his contracts required him to keep all details of his security work confidential, even from his family, but he said that was normal in his line of work which he claimed was working as a civilian contractor for overseas military forces.

But just after Leon was born, there was a car chase with someone trying to run Geliy off the road while the kids and I were in the car with him. Geliy discovered afterward that it was a Russian government agent who was trying to take him out because he was working for one of their enemies. Geliy has no loyalties and will work for whoever pays him the most, but what happened was utterly terrifying. And for the first time, I truly realized how dangerous he and his workreally are, and I knew that I couldn’t risk my safety or the safety of the children. He refused to change his job, saying that it was the only thing that kept him sane and feeling alive. I’d put up with his cruel comments about my weight and his blatant disregard of my feelings, but I knew I couldn’t accept that sort of danger in our lives, especially not after all the danger in my past that I escaped from by coming to the States, so that was the end of our relationship.

But whatever has happened between us, he still loves the kids. And I’m doing what I can to move forward, and I’m going to do it with a smile. Things might be a bit bleak right now, but we’ll make it through. That’s what I want to teach my children. That no matter how bad things look or feel, there’s an end to the darkness—and the storm too shall pass. If my life has taught me anything it’s that. Keep going. Keep your head up.

It’s a lesson I learned the hard way—that sometimes you have to choose joy as an act of rebellion against the darkness. My sunshiny nature isn’t naivety. Gennady tried to break me with his cruelty, but every smile I give my children, every moment of lightness I create, is proof that he failed. And Sofia knows that her mama’s sunshine is real—and that it’s what keeps the monsters away and makes the world safe enough for little girls to dream.

I pull out my phone and scroll through the photos from Sofia’s last figure skating lesson. Her face is pure concentration as she attempts a simple spin, tongue poking out slightly. It’s the same expression I probably had back when skating felt like flying instead of surviving.

That’s what I want to give my children—the joy I felt before everything went wrong. Before coaches became tormentors and dreams became nightmares. Sofia loves to skate, but she skates for fun, for the pure pleasure of movement. I’ll never let anyone steal that from her the way they stole it from me.

I close the photos and open my notes app, scrolling through my ongoing list: “Someday Goals.” Buy a house with a backyard for the kids. Take them to Disneyland. Learn to cook something other than pasta and sandwiches. Maybe even skate again—really skate, not just teaching others—somewhere no oneknows my history.

It’s a silly list, maybe. But starting that list and the hope it gave me is what kept me alive in that Russian facility, and it’s what keeps me going now. I’ve learned that if you don’t actively choose joy, the world will bury you in its darkness. If I let my star stop shining, the darkness wins. So, I choose to believe insomeday, even whentodayis hard.

The captain announces our descent, and Sofia stirs beside me, tearing me from my thoughts. “Hey, sleepyhead,” I say in a soft voice.

She murmurs incoherently, rubbing her eyes. It’s nearly evening now in Moscow, but she fell asleep hours ago.

I click my seatbelt back on, trying to push the knot of anxiety from my throat. There’s no going back now. No turning around and saying I’ll find another way.

Thirty minutes later, we’ve landed. Sofia’s hands are balled tightly around her small backpack as someone brushes past her. She flinches and quickly steps nearer to me. We slowly follow the line of people out of the plane. The air is just as biting and bitter as I remember. Sofia tugs her coat a little closer as we exit the airport. Taxis and vehicles line up outside as the overcast clouds block out the remaining sun.

Sofia’s head swivels from side to side to take in all the sights and sounds around us. It’s a big change from the States, that’s for sure.

“We can find some food first if you’re hungry?”

“Okay, Mama,” Sofia murmurs, nodding at me even as she peers around at the sights. The area around the airport is filled with crowds of people, and we need to find somewhere a little quieter. Walking four streets over, it’s finally less crowded. I spot a small diner and guide us toward it. “Better?”

She nods at me, and a small part of me relaxes as the waitress tells us to sit down anywhere.

“Do you know what you might want?” I ask my little girl.

“Do they have burgers?”

“Looks like it,” I say, examining the menu. The Cyrillic words bring back too many memories, both good and bad. While Geliy and I never really talked about it, we’ve both brought a little bit of Russia into the upbringing of our children.

Sofia’s gaze moves down to the menu between us. “Can I have a juice too?”

“Sure thing, baby.”

The waitress, a woman with dark curly hair and bright eyeshadow, slides up to the table. She takes our order, pops her gum, and disappears to the back.

“So, what do you think of Russia so far?” I ask Sofia.

“It’s…loud.”

“It was pretty loud at the airport. But where we’re going most likely won’t be. I made sure we’re staying close to the rink, and it’s kind of away from the major stuff.”

“Okay.” She goes back to tracing the letters on the menu like she’s been doing for the last few minutes.

She nods again as I check my phone. With the time difference, I know not to call right now to check on Leon, but the itch to do just that gnaws at my gut.

Geliy should be fine. He’s Leon’s father after all, and it’s not like he doesn’t know how to take care of a baby. But I still can’t stop my concerns gnawing at me. Initially, I planned to bring Leon with me too, but he was unwell, so leaving Leon with Geliy was the only option if I were to travel to Russia to take this job and avoid homelessness.

“Are we going to call?” Sofia asks, startling me a little.