Please, let me wake up from this nightmare.
When I opened my eyes, nothing had changed. This wasn’t a dream I could wake up from, and Babulya was truly gone forever. Tears streamed down my face, and I was helpless to stop it.
Ryan cupped my chin and tilted my face up to meet his eyes.
“I can stay here with you if you want,” he offered.
“No,” I whispered as I wiped the tears from my face. “Your mom is right. We should go.”
It was just an empty shell that we were leaving to be buried underground and forgotten. It wasn’t really my babushka in there. I had to believe that she was somewhere better. Maybe she was reunited with the love of her life, and she was smiling down at me with my grandfather at her side.
Ryan kept his arm around me as we walked back to the car that the Logans rented for the occasion. I let out an insane-sounding laugh at the thought of doing something as mundane as getting on the subway the moment that my babushka’s body was lowered into the ground, as if this were just a normal day and not the day that my entire world collapsed.
My laugh dissolved into hysteria, and Ryan’s parents looked at me with concern. Ryan just kept his arm around me and took it in stride. I knew he would be here with me regardless of anything that happened. If I started running through the streets and screaming, he would chase after me.
Ryan’s unwavering support helped to steady me. Ryan and I weren’t just friends; he was my other half. We were frequently paired together in performances because we worked so well together. I trusted him absolutely and knew he would never let me fall - both literally and figuratively speaking.
I tried to take a deep breath, but I was still shaky. There were a million different emotions running through my mind right now, but none of them felt right. What was the right way to feel when you realized that the last bit of your family is gone forever, and you were now alone on this earth?
Just as I had that dark thought, a black SUV pulled up, and four men got out. I ignored them at first, because I assumed that they were visiting the cemetery for their own family member, but when they stopped in front of me, I paused.
An older gentleman in his sixties stepped forward and held out his hands towards me.
“Ekaterina, I came to offer my condolences and to say goodbye to my dear mladshaya sestra,” he said in a thick Russian accent.
My jaw dropped in shock. Was this man truly Babulya’s brother? How did he know who I was?
Babulya had told me that she left her family behind to marry my grandfather, but I had no idea she even had a brother. I knew her parents had passed away when I was just a child, and I thought I was the only family she had.
The Logans kept moving to the car, and Mrs. Logan shooed a reluctant Ryan along with them, leaving me to face the stranger alone. They must have assumed I knew him. Because all Russians knew each other, right?
“My name is Sergei Mikalov,” the stranger said in a deep voice.
“Spasibo,” I murmured to him. “Eta ochen’ mila s Vashey starany.” I took the stranger’s hands in my own and gazed up at him, trying to see any family resemblance to my beloved babushka.
“You speak Russian?” he asked with a pleased look on his face.
I nodded. “Babulya preferred it.” I hesitated. “She never mentioned a brother.”
He gazed at me for a moment, the planes of his face hard and unyielding.
“I stayed behind in Russia when she and nashi roditeli came to the US,” he finally said. “I followed years later but respected her decision to stay out of the family business.”
My hackles rose, and I let go of his hands. From the way he spoke, I had an inkling of the type of business he meant. Not everyone in the Russian community was a law-abiding citizen, and there was an extensive network of men who engaged in criminal activity. They considered themselves to be a brotherhood, but those on the outside called them mafia. My babushka had hinted at her father not being a good man, but I hadn’t expected this. I should have known from the way this man was dressed and how the three other men flanked him respectfully that something was off. His companions were guards, their eyes alert for any danger, which indicated that he was higher up in the Bratva. I had to be very careful here - I didn’t want to disappear.
Babulya had escaped to America with her parents in the seventies, but she left the Russian community in Brighton Beach when she got married. My grandfather had been of Russian heritage, but he was born and raised in Brighton Beach. She loved him so much that she left her world behind and made him the center of her universe. After he died, she just wasn’t the same, but she still never reached out to any family despite her loneliness. If she’d known she had a brother in the city, it must have been extreme circumstances that kept her isolated and alone.
I gave Sergei a tense smile. “Spasiba za to, shto prishli sevodnya. May I show you to her grave?”
He looked over my shoulder and toward Babulya’s final resting place. “Nyet, ni nada,” he murmured. “I would like to say my goodbyes in private.” He glanced over at the Logans. “I will respect Svetlana’s wishes not to draw you into my world. But surely a young girl needs family?”
Ice crept up my
