11. Soren
I ’m barely through my front door when my phone rings. Groaning, I kick off my shoes and make my way to the living room as I pull the device from my pocket. Just once I would like to get home and simply…be.
Checking the display, I groan again but answer it before the voicemail picks up, unwilling to listen through that lecture right now.
“Hey, Ma,” I say, dropping down onto the sofa.
“Synok,” she says. “Is that you? It’s been so long since I’ve heard my son’s voice, I can’t be sure.”
It’s hard not to laugh at her dramatics. Ilyona Knightly is a lot of things, but subtle is not one of them.
“It’s been a week, Ma,” I say patiently.
“A whole week! That's a lot of time for an old, lonely mother.”
I scoff. “You’re not old or lonely. Tetya Kat is there, isn’t she?”
My mother makes a noise and I can picture the eye roll that accompanies it. “Please, as if your auntie is any substitute for you, my one and only child.”
I sigh. “Are you finished?”
She hums. “I don’t know, are you properly feeling the guilt?”
Laughing, I settle into the sofa, kicking my feet onto the coffee table. “Yes, Mamochka. I’m sorry, I’ve been busy settling in and getting acclimated with the new job.”
She huffs. “Don’t mamochka me. You don’t think I know your tricks, Zaychik.”
“Where do you think I learned them from?” I ask.
Mom laughs and I smile at hearing it, the carefree sound welcome after my long day. “Tell me, Zaychik, how’s your new job? Are they treating you well? Do you think this will work?”
Closing my eyes, I try to gather my thoughts while also shoving my interest in Doc to the side. “Yeah, it’s good so far. It’s only been a few days, but everyone’s been welcoming. It’s not what I expected, but I like that. It feels as if I’m going to fit in there. They’re all batshit, though I did expect that.”
Mom laughs. “From what I hear, that’s not a surprise. But, they’re good people. Ivan wouldn’t have sent you if he didn’t think they would accept you.”
“Yeah, I know. Have you heard from Papa?”
She sighs. “No, but I can guess at what he’s going to say when he finally catches up to me.”
“You don’t have to answer, you know that, right?”
“You think I can’t handle your father? I’ve had a lot more practice with him than you have, Synok.”
“I know, Ma. But we both know he’s going to be demanding and more aggressive than usual when he doesn’t get what he wants. I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”
“Soren Ilya Petrov, are you saying I can’t handle myself?” My mother’s exasperation can be heard through the phone, and I wince at the look I know she’s giving me, even from the other side of the state.
“No, Mamochka, I know you can. I just worry. You know as well as I do what he’s like when he doesn’t get his way.”
She huffs. “Yes, well, if he has an issue with you changing careers and affiliations, he can mind his own damn business. My zaychik is allowed to do whatever makes him happy. I’ll be sure to tell Nisha that, too. As for your affiliation… He’ll have to take that up with Ivan. But are you sure this is what you want, Zaychik?”
“Da, Ma, it is. I don’t know any other life than the mafia. I got into medicine because I wanted to have a place, that it’s not with Uncle Ivan doesn’t mean I can’t be useful here.”
She makes a distressed noise, but I can’t do anything more to reassure her. Being born into the Bratva is very different from willingly immersing yourself into it. There are certain expectations placed on you–especially when you’re the Pakhan’s nephew. My choice to leave wasn’t an easy one, though all of us–my mother, uncle, and myself–understood that if I didn’t leave, they would kill me. Because I may have hidden who I am for this long, but I’m not the type to spend my life in a closet.
Taking a place with the Amatos, with the blessing of my uncle, is the only thing keeping me alive right now. My mother is very aware of this, as much as she doesn’t want to be.
“I don’t like it, Zaychik.”
“I know, Ma.”
She sighs and we sit in silence for a moment. “So tell me,” she eventually says, cheer in her voice. “Have you met anyone?”
Doc flashes to the forefront of my mind, but I push him away as I answer. “No, Ma. I haven’t had the time.”
“Make the time, Sory. You won’t be twenty-five forever, you know. There’s plenty of time to be a fuddy-duddy.”
I snort. “The hell you get that term from?”
“What about one of the triplets? I think Petrov and Novikov go well together, make some cute babies.”
“It’s Knightly, remember? We’re trying to keep my affiliation with Uncle Ivan on the downlow.”
“Good luck with that, Zaychik. You were and will always be a Petrov, no matter what your name is. Why do you think I never married your father?”
Ignoring her, even though I know she’s right, and my connection with the Bratva is a not-so-hidden secret, I say, “And we’re just friends, the four of us. I don’t want to have babies with any of my friends.” Mostly because all three of them are batshit crazy.
“Well, there should be someone. Don’t waste your time on just your career, or looking over your shoulder, Synok. That’s no way to live. Take it from someone who’s spent far too long doing that very thing because of the choices they made.”
“I know, Ma,” I reply quietly. “It’s just not that easy for me, for many reasons.” None of which I’m comfortable getting into with my mother.
“When you meet the right person, none of that will matter.”
“Yeah…”
Once more my thoughts turn to Doc. Is he the right person ? Hell no, but for the first time in my life, I want to be a little reckless…